For many things I do, I have excellent reasons. For many others, I really don’t. Recently, it seems, there are more things I do out of impulse, and quite arguably dim-wittedness. When it came to the genepool roulette of life, I always hoped I had gained at least half the honey pot in common sense—perhaps I was wrong.
Emotions can be fickle beasties, and can grow a soul of their own, puppeteering your body into unbidden giggles or spontaneous frowns. They can slink and sidle onto the visage, commandeering your countenance without providing the major general with a moment’s notice, and manifest freely as thoughts without a filter—unless you teach them not to.