As a child and teenager, I was very curious about everything. I remember always wanting to touch and feel everything I lay my eyes upon. In my grandma’s house I used to scratch all over the cactus plants she raised. I loved the way they would ooze white sap down their stalks with each set of cuts I made. I liked to open her jewelry drawer and hear the story behind each piece, but even the stories weren’t enough. I would then have my grandma look up the gemstones from each piece of jewelry and read to me about them out of the encyclopedia.
The oldest child and only son in my family, I had also been the only trouble maker. Time and time again I had failed and let my family down. Each incident brought with it a little more permanent strain on the relationships between me and my family members. Raised as an Adventist, a strict branch of Christianity, we were taught to uphold strict spiritual and healthy living principles.
This curiosity was present as I went to college and decided to try all the new things that were offered to me. The first assault on my body and mind was alcohol. Next, I experimented with Marijuana. Many more substances were allowed a chance for my affection.
“You’re just a druggie loser, and you’ll never change!” My sister screamed as she left the room and went upstairs. “Tell me how you really feel.” I replied. I began to ask myself when was it going to be enough? Curiosity is good, and it helps us to grow physically, mentally, spiritually, and a myriad of other ways. The question I began to wonder is, “How much is too much?” When does being too curious cross the line?
After this last fight I a new idea caught my attention. Why not try living healthy, and try upholding the standards of my parents and church. Maybe they knew something I didn’t. I tossed these feelings around and eventually my curiosity got the better of me.
This I believe-Curiosity kills the cat, but sometimes spares the human.
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