How can I explain purposely setting foot on a path so blatantly treacherous? Was the fun in the fall?

I mean, who wants to trudge through life, doing everything just right? Taking no chances means wasting your dreams.

you fly until you crash two days two nights no sleep, no food, come down off the monster YOU CRASH REAL HARD

I know he did horrible things in the jungle. Things no amount of alcohol or pills could erase. War stains soldiers, all the way through their psyches, into their souls. I understand that, and could almost forgive him for taking his own life, to quiet the ghosts. But I can never forgive him for taking my mother with him.

I am different. And I don't understand exactly how. And I don't understand just why.

Or might the soul clone itself, create a perfect imitation of something yet to be defined? In this way, can a reflection be altered?

Red and raw like my brain, unable to shut down, thoughts crashing like electrons orbiting a nucleus of deuling emotions.