Hard way

I’m dipped out of a loop across Georgia and Florida to swing over to Tallahassee to see Kim.  Not Killer Kelly Kim, the other one. 

I tried to sneak the philosophical concept of killing and its possible justifications in casual conversation.  He saw through me.  He asked me who I wanted killed.  He likes people to think that he has mob connections.  I don’t buy that for a second.  But it wouldn’t surprise me if he knew a person or two that would commit a murder for him.

I told him I was talking hypothetically.  I told him that nobody was giving me any trouble.  He said that I didn’t talk enough to have hypothetical questions.  I retorted that I have plenty to say, it’s just that around him I never get a chance to talk. 

We sat in his kitchen talking and drinking sloppy frozen margaritas.  He explained his position that if anyone was a threat to his family, he’d kill them and not have a second thought about it.  I don’t totally believe him but I don’t think he’s 100% full of shit either.

I may have to look outside the wrestling world for good role models. 

That night I lay on Kim’s couch in the darkness not sleeping and thinking about other people I could talk to about this.  I realized what I’m doing.  I want to do something bad and I’m looking for someone to tell me that it’s okay when I know that it’s not.  I can’t have someone else make this okay for me.  I have to decide for myself.

I’m trying to get clean by doing something dirty and that doesn’t work.  The question I have to ask myself is not who can make this okay, the question is can I live with doing it?

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