Just like that, it slips from your hands. Time pauses as you watch it fall. In a sepia-tinted flashback, you see yourself peel off the safety seal from the package your phone came in. And then, you notice the gleam on the guerilla glass as it catches a streak of light from the window. The thudding of your heart as you catch it, mid-fall. You should be feeling weak-kneed and nervous, but surprisingly, you’re exhilarated. Part of you was perhaps tempted to let it fall.
You want to feel it again, that rush, that sort of half-death. So you drop it again. No reason why, you just want to drop it and catch it just before it hits the ground. Like your life, the phone is yours and in your hands. It’s yours and nobody can tell you what to do with it.
But it is not the same. You find yourself craving that lethal insanity of destruction and there’s nothing but the bitter, bitter taste of disappointment.
You want more. I need more, you say aloud as you look over your terrace onto the ground below. You’re giddy with pleasure thinking about how exciting it would be to free-fall for a few seconds before finally settling onto the ground in a crumpled heap.
And then, it happens again. You’re driving back from work. It’s late, and you’re drowsy despite all the caffeine. You close your eyes for just one second. When you come to, you see nothing but an oncoming vehicle’s headlights. You swerve to the left, just in time. But deep down, a part of you wanted to drive headlong into the truck and see what happens next.
At home, you can’t think about anything else. You don’t know where this comes from, this need to unhinge your life, this need to create destruction. Something ferocious gnaws at your insides and all you want to do is sweep your world into a heap of nothing. It’s a beautiful feeling.