Moderation

It's difficult to realize certain things about yourself: That you have flabby arms. That you're not nearly as smart as you originally thought. That the feelings in your pants are collectively referred to as 'homosexual tendencies.'

Me, I'm immoderate. I have no self-control. I can always see the limit, pretend there's something there to prevent me from saying the next sentence. Why should I take two more steps toward three Maglite's trained on me by uniformed arms? Why should I have one more? Why should I stop smoking once I've started?

But I can never come up with an answer before an answer happens. It's a total lack of foresight. The absence of a plan. The way a tornado rips through town and leaves only the child molester's house standing. He didn't want to live any more than the rest of the town. He just did.