regret

Just want to repent, and take this opportunity to say something that you dare not say. The language is very explicit, and it shows my worst and least human side.

I was a repeat shoplifter with over $1,000 worth of stolen goods. If I get caught and convicted, I face up to 5 years in prison for a felony. I used to insist that dignity was the only thing I couldn't give up for money, but my repeated thefts separated it layer by layer and then brutally trampled on it.

I was 17 years old and had just received an acceptance letter from college and a scholarship. It stands to reason that as long as I go to university step by step, find a serious job after graduation, and live away from home, not to mention wealth and wealth, I can eat and wear without worrying about it. However, the mother's investment failed, and all the family's belongings were left overnight. My scholarship was barely enough to cover my first year of college tuition, but my father and I were living on his income of less than $2,000 a month. At that time, I could not afford a computer, and the mobile phone was eliminated from the market, so I had to replace the battery and continue to use it. For more than a year after that, I didn't buy a single piece of clothing for myself, and I would refuse to go out to parties with my classmates, because at that time, my father's account had only $200 left after the rent was paid. Without that scholarship, I wouldn't even be able to go to college.

Can't afford a gym membership (and not old enough), and I'm just roaming the streets on a $90 Walmart bike. Passing by a store, or the kind with a relatively high consumption level. Locked the car and stood idly in front of the induction door. Knowing that I can't afford it, the dazzling array of products can't arouse my desire to buy. My eyes wandered, aimlessly, walking along corridor after corridor. Weekdays around 9 am are always busy. The customer and a few staff members were picking items, checking out, and no one noticed me. After staring at the self-checkout aisle for a long time, and then looking at the exit without guards or sensors, I looked up and looked around at the possible surveillance cameras, pretending to be looking for something. I went to another area, went to the bathroom, passed the non-shopping exit, and rode my bike home.

I forgot what I thought along the way, but there must be a battle between angels and demons in my heart. Thinking about my studies, my future, my reputation, I have hold back, but the pressures and threats of living helped the devil. It's not a valid reason, but if I could get even a few dozen bucks, at least I could survive today. I nibble at the unsavory sandwiches from the low-income free-food box, sketching a roadmap for the entire store from memory.

After a few days, I dressed casually in plain clothes and rode my bike to the store again. I pretended to be my first "visitor", looking left and right, looking for prey. The prey locked on, looked around casually, picked it up, looked at the tag, saw someone passing by, and put it back. I shielded my body from the corner where there might be surveillance, took a deep breath, and quickly stuffed it into my pocket. In the same way, I got four stolen items, estimated to be worth over $100. I went into the bathroom, put my things into the bag I was carrying, and walked towards the non-shopping exit with a natural expression.

In the store, I seemed calm, but my heart was filled with panic, nervousness, guilt, and fear. When I went out, I breathed a sigh of relief, because when I searched the Internet using the privacy window the night before, I found that for safety, supermarket employees cannot stop customers who have gone out. I got on my bike and quickly left this "right and wrong place".

When I got home, I immediately ripped off the tag, shredded it, and tossed it in the trash can outside my apartment. Sitting in the house, looking at my "trophy", mixed taste. I thought, I can't do this, this is wrong, but when I found out that I saved a lot of money at the end of the month, these feelings disappeared.

That was my first crime, but not my last. As an adult, I enjoyed some freedom and voice, and if I had the chance, I would most likely take advantage of them at all costs. The shackles of responsibility, whatever. I've become someone I hate. The one who has no bottom line, is greedy, and is controlled by desire. Perhaps the gentle, humble, cheerful, and intelligent boy in the school was just a mask.

My IQ was good enough to not hold me back in college. After the first semester, the GPA is not perfect, but it is my true level. The long-lost vacation that followed unearthed desires that I had buried for months. I started watching porn like crazy, masturbating like crazy, imagining someone, man or woman, lying on my back and sending me into orgasm. But every time I finished, I was exhausted, and after sleeping for a long time, I was still tired. I know that I can't overindulge, and I'm prone to sex addiction. So desire turns elsewhere.

Wearing a mask during the epidemic has provided great convenience for thieves like me. Yes, I got it out of the way again. The law stipulates that the accumulation of the amount of theft can only be reversed by six months. It has been more than half a year since the last crime, and the amount of theft is also counted from zero. I didn't catch a single sheep's wool, and I used similar tactics to steal hundreds of dollars of items on and off. I'm not very clever, but I don't know if I was lucky, or if the staff chose to turn a blind eye because of fear of me having a gun, and every time I got away with it. Looking at the swag in my bag, an imperceptible, twisted grin spread across my face.

I may have contracted kleptomania, a perverted obsession with ill-gotten gains, and the thrill of stealing. I even searched for shoplifting "tips" on certain websites, analysing the feasibility and planning when it would be implemented. In fact, from one morning when I was 17 to the time when my lust exploded later, my family situation eased. My parents don't quarrel as often as they used to. My father got a promotion and got some raises. I should stop. But I don't. So far, my motive for committing crimes is no longer just life, but hobbies.

My stealing "job" went surprisingly well, and I went from a misguided prodigal son to a heinous criminal. The mentality also changed from nervous anticipation to calm and numb. I don't remember which stores were stolen, how many times, and how much, but a conservative estimate of $1,000 was enough to shut me up for a few years and ruin my family, friendships, studies, career, and reputation. Every good move made me wonder how risky it was, but when I saw the sun outside the store with my swag, I realized it wasn't a dream.

In order to stimulate the economy, the government has given out a lot of money. Prices in the United States have risen rapidly, but the real estate in my hometown in China has been declining. My father was eager to buy a house, and he always sighed, which made me restless. He also said, "Why do you still have a year to graduate", and instilled at least once a week the idea of "you can't afford a house now, and you will have to pay your salary in the future." Every day he dragged me to look for a room and see it, so I didn't have any personal time outside of study. I hate myself why I can't have some money and buy a house and my dad can shut up. I also hate him. Why do I have to find a high-paying job while other college students enjoy travel, play, recreation, and longing for the first job after graduation and discretionary disposal of the first pot of money? Be prepared to overdraft it and pay off a loan on a house I don't want to live in. I thought about renting a house by myself after graduation and paying part of my salary to repay the mortgage, but that's not feasible. How can a fledgling college student pay the mortgage and rent at the same time and support himself?

Now I can only do it step by step, mechanically doing questions and exams for the unreachable actuary certificate. There is no other way, if you fail the test, you can't find a job, how can you have the money to pay the mortgage? I vented my anger to the society, remembered my "old work", and prepared to do a big job.

That being said, it is mostly formalism. There is a lot of pressure to study, and there is no way to make a plan, so I can only act on a whim, and then I prepare to wash my hands and quit. But this time, it turned over for the first and only time.

There were so many people that day that I couldn't start. I finally found a suitable opportunity, but when I held it in my hand, it made a sound. Calmly pretending to be debugging, I quickly put it in my pocket. Just as I was about to celebrate my last success, a staff member stopped me and asked, "I saw what you installed, it looked like a stereo. But you didn't pay." Not a question, but a statement.

I pretended to be puzzled, "What, sound?" At this time, another staff member came over and said in a tone that couldn't refuse: "I saw that you were hiding, it was in your bag." When he saw the whole process, I shuddered . However, I told myself not to panic, not to be in a hurry, otherwise I would be handcuffed and I would have a criminal record for the rest of my life. I pretended to unknowingly rummaged through the bag, and sure enough, a stereo box lay quietly inside.

I suddenly realized, "Ah, sorry. I was going to put it back, but I accidentally brought it out. I'm sorry." Saying this, I shoved the stereo into the staff's hands while saying haha. But even so, they were suspicious, and after thinking for a moment, they took me to a hut and told me,

"I see you always move things. If you tell us the truth, we won't call the police."

I've never experienced this before, sitting in a chair with sweaty palms. My brain was racing, I pulled myself out of the "It's over, it's over" thoughts, and I started to test them.

"What do you want me to tell you?"

"As long as you admit that you attempted to steal, we won't go through the legal process."

I quickly recalled and found that the latter person was so determined, probably serious. I had to say, "Sorry, I did bring something out. It was wrong and stupid. I regret it so much. I won't do it again." respond. They thought about it and decided not to call the police. I was about to put my suspense down when they asked for my personal information, asked for my driver's license, and gave me a Banning Notice, prohibiting me from entering or leaving the store.

I walked out the door in a daze, clenching my fists tightly in my sleeves. damn it! Nearly succeeded. But after just a second, I started to get scared, connected to the behavior within six months, ah, dare not think about it. I shook my head to make sure they weren't following, and I was relieved. Going around the road and getting into the car, my mind is complicated. There is coursing, there is worry, and there is guilt. It is not suitable to stay here for a long time, I start the car, take a deep breath, and step on the accelerator. I was so distracted that I crossed the line and realized I just ran a red light. Drive well, I said to myself. Have committed a crime, but still don't know how to obey the law?

For my criminal career, such an end was unquestionably sloppy and unsuccessful, but certainly not the worst. Turn on the computer and marvel at the wonder of big data. The video of the ex-convict was pushed to me, and the only thought after watching it was not to go to prison. Inside is a small society, and there are intrigues that should be outside. The only difference is that there is no freedom and no hope in it. I closed my eyes, afraid that if I hadn't told the truth at the time, or if I had made a mistake, my fate would have changed dramatically. Looking at the bag without any booties, it felt clean for the first time. He touched the calluses on his hands and his sinful face again, and walked to the bathroom, letting the water run across his skin. Rub hands and face vigorously. Cleaned up, let's be human again. Whether it's to avoid punishment, or the bottom line of human nature, high-level or low-level reasons, don't do it.

That night, I lost sleep again. This time, instead of guilt and the fear of being arrested by the police, I started to think about why I'm on this path. Yes, because of poverty, there is a lot of pressure. But the next few times, not just poor, but the excuse of economic difficulties as a fig leaf, the venting of cynicism and the rampant desire. Now that I have washed my hands in Jinpen, I will face such problems again, but when I look back on the years when my hands were dirty, which night was not plagued by these problems? Prisons are for transformation, and I, who should be in prison, are outside the prison, trying to complete my transformation.

That Youtuber seemed to have some kind of magic, and I swiped her videos one by one, listening to her talk about the bits and pieces of her life in prison. Her words were vivid, as if drawing a prison in front of me. I naturally assumed myself and imagined myself being arrested, indicted, sentenced, and woken up overnight from the detention center. His hands and feet were tightly handcuffed, the chains frayed his ankles, and blood was flowing. It was stuffed into a sealed cargo box, huddled with a group of people who had committed earth-shattering cases, sultry heat, and a pungent stench. A long journey, accompanied by a dignified medical examination. Spread your legs, push your private parts away, and cough with your hands on the table. They would stare at my dick and shout "open up" and spit out. There are a lot of lesbians in prison, most of them are "bending", but in any case, my physique is only violated by them. I like women, but if I stay there for even a day, I have to be afraid of women. The eyes are full of white walls and iron windows, and the only personal space is the hard bed. Immersed in the atmosphere, I suddenly remembered that that was where I should have been. I suddenly realized that there is no essential difference between myself and the people who murder, abduct and sell drugs. No, I can't be that kind of person, and even if I am, I have to force myself to get lost.

By the way, dignity. There is no dignity in prison. If I were to be there, I would be treated by the guards as something worse than a dog. I do this for money and lose my dignity. Oh no, it wasn't, it was lost, lost when pocketing that thing. My family will despise me, but I'll be fine then because they won't expect me to pay my mortgage anymore. It's just that I will definitely feel uncomfortable, although I am not qualified. All my friends will leave me. The one I love, alas, can't pull her into the water. As for loving me. . . Will anyone still love me? But before all this happened, I despised myself, spurned myself, disappointed myself, and regretted myself. I have trampled on my dignity a thousand times before I let others take it away from me.

It took me too long to pick up my broken, rotten heart and self-esteem. Being a good person should have been the bottom line, but now it has become the goal. I want to break free and not do what other people tell me to do, that's right. The "freedom" and "wealth" that can be obtained by illegal means will perish at a terrible price. Give me the bottom line as a good person, I don't want it, then someone will deprive it, and by the way, deprive me of what only people with a bottom line deserve. The reason is simple, because this thing is wrong. Even if I was never deprived of my liberty and dignity, endless remorse and self-blame would follow me throughout my life. They are intertwined, very inconsistent, and very ironic. Ring the alarm bell, don't see grief, disappointment, disbelief in the eyes of others, and let them sting my evil heart at the same time, but also choose to degenerate, and use that scarred hand to block the only remaining ray of light.