It's like waking up to a bad dream
It's nice, to know that things might be put to good use when I am done with them. Dropping off the load of old but still useful stuff to the thrift store felt like I was lightening my life by as many pounds. The clothes and things were gone, but not to take up space in some landfill - at least for now.
Leaving, I pulled my car around the back of the drive in a long, slow arc. I glanced over, half-interestedly, at the RV and boat storage lot languishing behind the secondhand store. Taking note of details, I saw the lot was packed with vehicles in varying conditions. The fence that surrounded them was topped with barbed wire and razor wire. It would take some amount of determination to get over.
What the fuck?
Somewhere in my tired mind, a switch flipped on. The space began to fill with anger, a burgeoning steady anger joining my realization. Why the hell do we need fucking razor wire on a fence around a dinky little storage lot?!
I can understand the fence. The owner has to demarcate the property, to keep people from walking through and so on. The only reason, though, for fortifying that fence with shit that will rip your ass off is if there are people who earnestly want to get in there and vandalize or steal someone else's property.
I don't consider myself to be an exceptionally good person. I have my ethics, and I generally follow them. I would never, ever set out to take or damage things that don't belong to me. Who the hell are the people that think such actions constitute a good time?! Where do they come from?
People are essentially benevolent. They love, they feel compassion for their fellow human beings. There is nothing to change that. How deep, how far must that essence be buried for someone to feel justified in smashing a car window to take something? And for what?
I pity the person who, last Friday, broke into my car. I can call my insurance company, and with minor inconvenience have the window repaired. Then I move on. That individual cannot ever undo the choice to sacrifice his soul. There won't be a check coming in the mail redeemable for "one shred of dignity."
The world is not as I would have it. But then, it never was. Sometimes it's just a little hard to take, the knowledge that everything is spoiled.