We, human beings, have a never ending fascination with violence. Gore sparks a unanimous curiosity. Uncontrollable rage attracts our attention over love anytime. Now, a lot of us are ashamed of such an interest. We may try to avoid this animosity, but take a look at the factors around us everyday.

The media is the master of our minds. They decide what we want, and when we want it. They decide who we will like, love, desire. And they are responsible for over half of the telepathic terrorism. Through television, movies, commercials, magazines, they expose us to brutal scenes and situations. Just as sex sells, violence does too. Not just violence, but death, injury, sadistic humor, pointless murder, and gruesome details.

When we see the human body being slashed open, ripped to shreds, crushed to a fine powder, we are convinced, proven of our mortality. When I was a child, I thought anatomy was a joke, a theory. It couldn't possibly be true that we were full of bones and veins and gooey wonder. It wasn't until I saw my first reality teevee show, “Top Ten Smash Ups” or something, that I started to believe it could possibly be true. Seeing broken arms with bone protruding from the skin, seeing blood gushing from a severed artery, suddenly it became real. And I became obsessed.

Seeing the events happen was not so much my cup of tea. I was more in to actually seeing the gore. My brother and I were wandering around behind my father's workplace one day when we were young, and we stumbled upon a dead gopher. Its body half decayed and insect ridden, my brother picked it up by the teeth on his index finger. Right as he did so, two beetles crawled out of its eyes, causing Eric and I to run screaming in the opposite direction.

A few years later, my next door neighbor hit a deer driving home at night. I rushed over to their house to see the vehicle. The hood was dented and only slightly smeared with dry blood. The windshield clutched tufts of fur on its shattered surface. And that's when I felt it. That shiver that climbs your spine with claws of cold steal, causing your body to shake uncontrollably. I had reached my limit. We all have it. We crave reaching it. But once we have, we wish we had turned back sooner.

Over time we build up a tolerance to the gore. We become desensitized to the bloodshed, the bone shattering, the cremation. Soon very little bothers us. It's just an everyday event. Injuries become hilarious (America's Funniest Home Videos), illnesses become entertainment (Untold Stories of the ER). An innocence we didn't even know we had is stripped from us. So what do we do?

We have a choice. We always have. You choose what you read. You choose what you watch. You choose what you do. It's normal to want to see the blood and guts and emotional turmoil. But you don't have to give in to that temptation. Keep in mind what's realistic, what's right, and what's constructive, not destructive, for your mind.

Petals in pistols. Peace out.