My Shotgun Is Missing from My Life

In: Other Topics

Submitted By Nibes
Words 671
Pages 3
The Mossberg 12-gauge shotgun represents raw power. Power, both in the sense of the energy it emits when it is fired, and in the feeling it gives you when it is being wielded. It is a resource for entertainment, gathering sustenance, or governing nations if used correctly. On the other hand, it can be used as a form of control over objects and environments around you. With those who may not be able to contain the darker sides of their inherent human natures—the urge for power or dominance, the sense that having more is better, succumbing to the ideality that wealth and material things brings power and respect, and giving in to the temptation to simply take it now, rather than work for the possibly unattainable, wanting to know what it feels like to take a life—it can be an item of darkness, tempting the weak-minded to give in to their savage nature. The firearm was first designed to kill. To win wars. It can both taketh and giveth. It is a mechanical device, smooth, sleek, and to some, sexy. The feel of it in your grip, the weight of it, the smell of gunpowder when it is fired, all inflame the senses. It is a weapon of destruction that demands to be revered. It’s not so much that this item, in and of its self, is important to me. It is what the item sybolizes to me. It represents my past and the poor choices I made long ago. It stands for the consequential loss of my freedom, my Constitutional right. Something that can never be found, nor recovered again. I am a felon, you see. I am no longer allowed the right to bear a firearm for the rest of my life. I am less a citizen of this great country than I am a criminal. That “label” is stamped in my dossier until I breathe my last air. A constant handicap on my life. To those who hear of it and don’t know its origins, I am a murderer, a rapist, or a bank robber in their mind; as much as I feel like in my mind, a look…...

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