I (used to) steal shit.

I don’t know why, but I did.  For some reason, over the course of one year during my development, I had this compulsion to steal things. I was a bonafide kleptomaniac. 3rd grade man, I was straight-up ruthless.  I gave my best friend a wallet for his birthday, and then I stole it back. I already had a wallet! Savage…

I literally can’t relate to this little fucker, I don’t understand him and his motives whatsoever. Maybe it’s good, and maybe it’s a sign I’ve grown and changed a whole helluva lot in these last 22 years, but I do find it odd how foreign my former actions seem. Things are nice, and I appreciate the hell out of a lot of items that enhance my life, but in general, I find the acquisition of stuff to be a minimally interesting and  motivating factor in my life.


I say I don’t steal now, but is that true? Am I really being honest? Not sure how many incriminating examples I want to give here, but I can easily think of a handful of scenarios that contradict this statement. One time, Amazon double-mailed me an item I purchased. I “forgot” to send the extra one back. I certainly didn’t correct the cashier when they favorably mischarged me for my groceries. As a justification, I tell myself it’s restitution for the times I overpay. Though who am I kidding, if I actually notice I’m incorrectly paying extra, I’m sure as shit saying something.

So, who am I now, just an average adult with slippery morals? At least back in the third grade, I knew I was a thief. I could admit it to myself.

This is where I should resolve to be better and express my commitment to acting with more integrity. But I cannot in good faith say that I won’t eat a milk chocolate malt ball I acquired in the bulk food section of the grocery store while still shopping and prior to paying for it. I know the creature I am, and maybe I just can’t change him…..

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