“Spin, spin, Satan”
As the pentagram in front of me rotated in a counter-clockwise motion, I couldn’t help but think how silly the whole thing really was. I liked the image for what it reminded me of; it was the music I listened to, and the things I liked in those lost halcyon days. I never believed in the occult or in the existence of some sort of demonic being. I did rather enjoy offending those who were frightened of those things though. What did it really say about me though?
“I want it, but I don’t know why. I don’t think I’m going to regret it, I just don’t know why I like it.”
The man in front of me was not interested in my stories or the introspective journey I had embarked upon. He was only interested in whether or not I could afford his services. I assured him that I could. As I lay there on my stomach, trying desperately to relax and not think about what was actually happening, I pondered the choices I’ve made in life. Do I really understand anything that I do? I don’t suppose it really matters.
“Why is it that self-awareness seems like a fraud?”
“What?” he said, stopping his work momentarily.
“Nothing. Just thinking aloud.”