Greed, in my mind, is most commonly brought forward when discussing monetary gain. I have not had many chances in my life in which I’ve handled large sums of money in which I could handle greedily but there are a few peppered instances in my life that can only be a hint that I will, later in life, be a very bad influence, or at least a very bad person in general.
My mother is a well-known alcoholic around my house. she is no stranger to gulping down one or two bottles of thick red wine every night. This was not my problem necessarily, and I handled it very different than most children would. I didn’t cry and go to a counselor letting them know my mother was a problem, I twisted the situation to my advantage. She worked as a waitress at a local sport’s bar, and in turn that meant she had access to at least a sprinkling of booze while she was on break. Knowing this, I allowed myself o calculate when she would last pay attention to the money she took in. Being a not-so-bright individual, she stopped keeping track of tips by the time she’d gotten past twenty. If she made forty dollars in a night, she wouldn’t know. I knew this, and in turn began my addiction to filching. Every morning I would wake up as early as possibly and creepy my way into the kitchen. I’d lift the heavy buckle off the front of the Louis Vuitton purse and slip my thin hand within. I’d get hold of the leather wallet and slowly pull it out. It was similar to playing a game of operation, since the leather of the purse would squeak if I touched it in any way at all. I’d eventually retrieve the wallet and sift through for some cash. I would never taken so much that she would notice even whilst inebriated, but I never took so little that my efforts would be wasted. Before I obtained the nerve to actually access her purse I had specialized my hand at coin filching. My mother has always been pack rat by nature so she’d often have trays of coins or more commonly she’d have a tall mug filled with coins. These coins were of all kinds, and half of them were foreign, and in my adolescence all I needed was a few dollars. I’d take eight or twelve quarters and trudge my way down to the gas station back when we lived in Key West. I’d find a way to supply myself with soda behind my mother’s back, because she had prohibited me from drinking it at an early age. Slowly I grew to be numb to the idea of it. I often claim that it is not stealing it is filching, because I usually take so little. Yet as my habit progressed, I like any human being, grew bored with the small sums I was getting. It was hard to raise my nerve to take more, but it wasn’t impossible. I knew the repercussions would be a lecture about how stealing is bad, and nothing more. I remember the day I took a five dollar bill from the wallet. I can easily look back and feel my heart pounding in my chest. I felt alive, and I felt guilty. for whatever reason I enjoyed the emotions that came with taking this from her. I enjoyed fearing my return home from school to hear her yelling at me. she never did yell at me or notice, well that’s what I assumed. I’ve had the suspicion that she is noticing but doesn’t have the nerve to say anything to me. when I was a coin thief I’d find the water jug hidden away in her closet and take some spoils from it. The next week I’d go back and the water jug would be in a different location. I was almost humoured by the fact that she was either very aware it was me and didn’t have the nerve to say anything, or it actually could have been that she thought my stepdad was stealing from it for cigarette money. Nonetheless I’ve since grown into stealing twenties when the time is right. usually keep it basic and take ones unless a five is present.
I know as I do it that I am wrong, but somehow, in my conflicted mind, I have concluded that I have justice. When I have money I tell myself that I should stop this habit, but the moment I run dry I justify it in my mind and see no problem till the money is already spent. I’m beyond guilt and have begun to drift toward the enemy seas of acceptance.
Greed is a sin that I’ve found I commit most often.
I am greedy when I have money.
I am greedy when I eat.
I am greedy when I shop.
I am greedy when I love.
I am greedy when I live.
A chapter of my Novella “I Ate KFC With a Nazi”