one bad apple

The “what if” game. It’s not a fun one to play or a good one to even consider. But, sometimes… We trick ourselves on a daily basis trying to make the importance of each little tiny decision fade or rise forth in the sea of minutiae that creates our waking existence. Decisions like what color shoes to wear, tea or coffee, sandwich or yogurt, granny smith or gala, fade so easily and others, oh others come pounding on the door minutes, days, weeks, midnights later. What is the chemical shift in our brains? Why does the synapse fail and leave logic homeless wandering in the cerebral cortex alone and cold? Wernicke certainly left a fire burning in the small area he carved out. In the millions of innocent and seemingly inconsequential turns and corrections we navigate, how is it that one bad apple, one single rotten spot can spoil the whole bunch? I don’t know and yet, I think I’m done with apples.

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