Housed and Fed

Some people call them blessings, some call them a curse. They take everything from us, but at the same time they keep us whole. I feel pestilent when I think about them. A darkness that holds me, makes me want to break them. I know I can’t because the risk is too high the reward. I see them as both blessings and curses brought on by those who know so little and ask so much. We are told to think and act and behave according to them. We are told to bow and to stand. We are told to stay in the lines and not think outside of the box. No one really wants to follow them but we all do, to our own broken extent. You’d think at some point we’d find a way to let ourselves out of the darkness they hold upon us. Yet, here we are listening to them for our entire lives. I’m sick and tired of them. I’m sick and tired of the restraint I must have. Those who make them don’t have to follow them as closely as me and you. I’m tired of it all. I’m tired of the rules.

The detective read the note one more time before carefully setting it back down on the body. “It’s Andy Grossman.” The footsteps of the detectives partner got louder as she approached. “He was elected to the house.” He asked as he looked over his shoulder. “Yes, it was his third term. Same M.O. as the last one and same governing body. Apparently, he doesn’t like the people who make our laws. He doesn’t like the rule of man.” The detective looked at the body again and muffled under his breath, don’t we all. The man was crucified to the floor, the Star of David carved into his forehead. “Get forensics in here and don’t step on anything. This is the 3rd, you know what that means.” The detective stood as he talked and walked out of the house.