As a young lad, pre-teen, i used to spend as much time as possible outside of the home. It was where freedom was to be found, where rules are suspended and boundaries are challenged. Imagination created our reality. We became cowboys or Indians for an hour, firing make believe bow and arrows shooting guns with a finger and cocked thumb. Swiftly morphing into Germans vs English, running around making machine gun noises while jerking our arms to simulate recoil, ducking behind cars or hedges to pull the pin from a grenade, using one hand and your teeth, before throwing at the enemy.
Having a conscience, to me, means, not only been aware of your actions on other people, but to actually care about the consequences of those actions on other people. Care been the operative word.
I have not always had a conscience, It would probably be better to say i had one but i ignored it. I can’t exactly remember when my journey into crime began, but probably around the age 6-8 when i used to go with the older kids raiding apple trees, and no matter how sour those apples tasted to me they tasted way better than any store bought ones. Getting chased off by irate owners only added to the thrill. My first of many experiences chasing the Adrenalin rush through been a bad boy.
How i describe myself. I’m the neanderthal, the hunter gatherer, the provider, the protector, the lover, the alpha male. Friends come and go enemies are for life.