My mom once told me that if I stared at the sun, I would go blind. But she never really told me why, so as a kid when I stood in the backyard and stared at the hot searing afternoon rays that made my eyes burn like a bitch, I thought of her, and of her lack of reasons of why I shouldn’t do it. She could’ve said anything, anything that might’ve made it through my thick skull and made a dent, somewhere deep, somewhere inside where right and wrong dwelt, but she said nothing that made me even want to try to listen to her reasonless words.