I had trouble with this one.
--
There are so many things that I want from this world.
I want an unbroken night's sleep. I want three square meals a day. I want a new suit, a new power source and a new place to crash after robberies. I want fame. I want to be recognized, feared, sought after, admired.
But really, more than anything else, more than anything that torments my days and interrupts my sleep, I want possessions.
Fine wine. Good furniture. Pleasurable company. Expensive clothes.
Prices rise and fall. Inflation comes and goes. Stocks crash, then rise, only to crash again. But people will always have things.
They collect them. Amass them. Covet them. Because they are valuable. Because they are beautiful. Because there aren't enough of them. Because there never will be.
And I steal them for the same reasons.
I want more and more and more of everything I own. I want even more of everything I don't own. No matter how many things I have, no matter how much they are worth, no matter how long it took to amass them…it will never be enough. I will never have enough. Not enough time, not enough money, not enough sleep, not enough wealth.
I will always…want…more.
--
I'm so used to this greed that I barely notice it anymore. It's become natural. A part of me, almost.
When I see a nice necklace in the front of a store, I get this feeling, this strange, horrible sensation. I've felt it so many times. It's familiar. It's expected.
But it never stops hurting.
This feeling…it's like there's a hole in my chest, where the heart should be, and everything is draining out of my body—blood, organs, soul, you name it. I feel empty.
And then I lay eyes on the necklace again, and it's the most gorgeous thing in the whole world. It's alluring. Enchanting. Enthralling. I have to have it. It's the only thing that will staunch the wound. It's the only thing that will fill the emptiness.
Meanwhile, the hole is getting worse—causing actual, physical pain. I get this throbbing in my chest, even though it feels like it's empty. I need this necklace. If I don't have this necklace, the pain will consume me. Sometimes I fall to my knees, just writhing in agony. Sometimes I manage to stand up and take it like a man. I try to resist. I try to look away, focus on something else. But every single time, it gets so bad I can barely stand it—
And then the next thing I know, I've broken into the store, and I'm snatching at the necklace, and suddenly the pain is gone like it never existed and the most important thing in the world is that bit of gold clutched in my hand.
And then I see a really nice tux, and the cycle starts all over again.
What is it? you ask. What causes this pain?
It's sheer, unadulterated greed.
I wonder, sometimes, if it's my drug. If you take a junkie, and stick them in rehab for a while, eventually they'll get better, right? At least for a time. Then they get out, and they try to go about their normal life. Trying to avoid the drug. Trying to not think about it. If they don't think about it, they won't want it.
I can try that all I want. I can tell myself, "X, this is it. The last time you're going to steal something. That's it. The last time. You're going straight and narrow now, my boy!"
I can tell that to myself until I'm blue in the face.
I can't avoid my drug. Material possessions are everywhere. You're addicted to cocaine? Fine. Stay away from clubs. You're addicted to ecstasy? Okay, cool. Stay away from concerts.
You're addicted to other people's possessions? Try barricading yourself in a cage, buddy.
I know it sounds like I'm cool with this. Like I don't give a crap that I can't control myself around shopping centers. Like I'm fine with the fact that every time I see something I want, I feel like my freaking chest is going to spontaneously combust. Like I'm pretty much blasé when I realize that as soon as the pain overwhelms me, my body goes on cruise control and the next time I'm back in the driver's seat, I'm on a rooftop twenty miles away and holding some valuable material object.
I'm not cool with this.
I'm not cool with this at all.
It makes me sick inside. When I can't control myself. When I find myself clutching another priceless vase. I feel sick before I get it, and then I feel a different kind of sick afterwards.
That's why I laugh when Boy Blunder suggests for me to just "try walking on the light side". I would. I really, really would. I would give up the suit, the mask, the infamy…I would give it all up in a heartbeat. I'm tired of working hard, so hard, just to be hated. I'm tired of planning, strategizing, manipulating everything around me, just to go through with something that will cause other people pain. If I had the choice, I would walk over to the Titans right now and say, "I give up. Let me join you. Let me be a hero."
I can't.
I can't control this greed.
I've tried. I've tried so hard. I've tried to ride the pain out so many times. I keep thinking, "One more second. One more second, and it will fade. One more freaking second."
One second can come and go. The pain doesn't stop until I've stolen what I covet.
And it never, ever will.
--
And now as I look down at the hands that have taken so much, that take and take and take and somehow take even more, I notice them trembling.
Just a little.
Like a leaf in the wind.
Are they shaking from exhaustion? Disgust? Shame?
I don't know. All I know is that no matter how tired, no matter how sick, no matter how ashamed, no matter how pained, I will always take more. And more. And more. And never be satisfied.
Greed is shaking and crying in a pool of your own vomit, screaming in agony from the cramping pains in your stomach, trembling from illness-induced exhaustion, but still coveting the alcohol that made you puke. Greed is having so much—so many things, so much wealth—but being terrified of running out, and amassing more and more until you're crushed beneath the weight of it all, and yet still needing even more. Greed is wanting and wanting and wanting, craving something that will destroy you from the inside out, yearning for it even when it makes you sick.
Greed is what I am, who I am, and all I will ever be.
--
Next: Envy
