thought(less)

I live in a world of self-inflicted uncertainty. I know I cannot trust myself to act within the bounds of social norms, or even self-preservation. It is an accepted understanding that at any moment what I enacted with unwavering logic will inevitably be unraveled into absurdity. I must always walk, never run, or my own unawareness may bolt away with my body. In response, my life becomes an ongoing series of stuttering starts and stops; a wary deer afraid to rest in the grass, lest impulsivity pounce upon it and consume my consciousness. The constant vigilance means every action is considered before it’s initiated. Habits can never be truly made, so they cannot be trusted. Knowledge cannot be assumed, and must be cited, lest I succumb to a moment of ignorance that, had I not been impulsive, would have never occurred.

A lack of impulse control is so much more than “a sudden, unreflective urge to act”. That infers an ability, or opportunity, to resist the aforementioned “urge”. It goes well beyond conscious thought. It isn’t merely an urge that needs sating. It is a physical response to an external stimulus before that stimulus can be codified into cognizance.

It is also deceptive in its confidence. In the moment of action, there is such a certainty that no other response would be as equally measured and reasonable in its validity. There may even be a moment of pride at just how well the situation was undertaken.

Until it so obviously was not. 

In the glaring clarity of the mistake, confidence dissipates, replaced by a stinging interrogation of self-doubt. The misjudgement seems so salient post-impulse, it’s absurd that anyone would have made such an error. It was a foolish mistake, stupid, thoughtless, crafted by someone who is equally so. That’s what is easiest to believe. If it goes unchallenged, it eventually construct the mind in a prison of its own making. A sentinel over its own, untrusted ideas. 

After all, sentience is sluggish when compared to the reflexes of instinct.