a short story that takes forever...

once the initial deception is accepted, it is so easy to remain deceived, to become further deceived, to become completely deceived.
it happens this way.
there is a forest full of bear traps betwen your house and work.
this, in itself, has never presented a problem. it's always been easy enough to get up a little earlier and simply take the paved road that goes around the borders of the forest.
but eventually, the question comes.
in the beginning, it seems so little like foolishness that we are content to formulate a supporting belief almost without thought, accepting each rationalization without question.
"after all, it's shorter to get to work if i go through the forest. if i'm careful, there's no reason it should be unsafe. i could get an extra half-hour of sleep in the morning. there's trafic on the road, anyway, there's probably just as good a chance of getting run over as getting stuck in a bear trap..."
it doesn't occur to us, at this point, to question why we wouldn't want to go through the woods, because all of our resources are fully occupied with making it seem not only okay, but better than any available alternative.
and so, one mornig, tired and mildly rushed, we slip into the shadows under the trees, believing we're making a good choice, that we'll come out ahead.
almost immediately, the correct question finally comes. "is this wise?" but now, of course, it's "too late". after all, there's not enough time to go back without being late, and even if there was, you're already partway through the forest, and going back again would mean having made the risk for nothing. wasted risk is tragic, after all.
and so, impressed once more with our brilliant logic, we continue. and, having sated the question of the wisdom of our actions, we ever so gently and inconspicuously lower our guard.
it would be easier to avoid the bear traps if they actually looked like bear traps... but they don't... there is no gleam of silver teeth and snapping strength to dissuade us to step, instead there is the shimmer of desire, the pique of curiosity and interest, the sharpness of wit and clever vice. it's easy not to step in a bear trap... but stepping into the world, stepping into the bright colors and exquisite tastes of our various poisons, is easy.
and so, walking merrily along, paying no heed to the things in the forest that do not belong there, that are not wood and moss and fern, we walk carelessly right into something much stronger than we are, and our walk through the forest that was only supposed to be a shortcut is violently halted.
the trap hurts at first, because we're unused to it, but at the same time, the pain wakes us up, fills our body with adrenaline, with sensations that we have never experienced, and in a strange dark way that we were never meant to experience, we like it.
the thing about pain is, eventually, the body gets used to it. this is our body's great deception, becoming accustomed to something to the point where release would actually cause more pain than simply enduring our slavery. release, after all, means losing not only the trap, but probably a goodish quantity of blood, and perhaps the use of our leg as well.
staying, on the other hand, will eventually mean death.
but still, our mind ticks away in it's cleverness, consumed with convincing us that the easy way is honestly easy. "it's better to die here with my vice than to live without a foot, to have to spend x number of weeks in hospital, to have to face telling everyone in my life about my foolishness, to live with the fact that i lost that foot, that blood, that face, and have nothing to show for it. at least this way, i have something."
and so we while away the hours in the forest, contentedly polishing our trap, waiting for starvation to set in so that we can be free from the consequences of our poor judgment.
so... here's the thing...
how on earth do we pull that trap open? how do we decide, once it's off, that it needs to be destroyed?
there was a girl at our church, and while i thought it was extreme and a little over-the-top, i had to admire what she managed to do. she had a fragmented guitar from a kiss concert. a cool keepsake, to be sure. but she decided, at one point or another, that it was weighing her down. and so it passed, she came to the church with the splintered noose, tossed it in a barrel, and burned it. i would have thought to sell it, perhaps... but then i'd think that if i could give it to someone else, there's no reason why i couldn't have it... and soon enough, getting rid of it would cease to matter, and it would hang on my wall and whisper to me about the woods, about my foot, about the way i used to like the pain.
it's easy to burn things we hate... or even irrelevant things. it's burning the things we think we love, the things we want, or believe we need. that's what's hard. it's easy to throw out a pack of cigarettes. it's hard to quit smoking. it's easy to break a bottle of booze... it's hard to be sober. it's easy to shatter a disk. it's hard to stop objectifying. it's easy to refrain from making a phone call or two... but getting rid of unhealthy friends is nearly impossible.

so here i sit, still stuck, hating the teeth in my ankles but not knowing what to do about it... not knowing how to make that final decision, that final break, and just accept the fact that my foot will never be the same. it's what i long for, the freedom, but i want it all... if i'm going to be free to walk on crutches, i want to be free to run. i need to find the will and desire to be content with walking, to be content with the injuries i've caused myself, knowing that they will remind me of how far i've come... it's perspective all over again, where i want to be able to see my freedom for what it is, but all i can see is the impediments i drag along with me.

but i'm still learning.
one of these days, it will sink in, and then... oh then... let the burning begin.
i just hope i have a big enough barrel.