I’ve resisted writing. There is little new to say. Old terrain, worn terrain.

And I annoy myself. And how!

But it goes round. This thought.

And that.

Fueled by fear. Fear itself.

Fear of failure. Fear of embarrassment. Fear of weakness. Fear of being seen. Fear of second place, of ridicule, of pain. Fear of letting you down. Fear of expectations. Fear of correctness. Fear of rules. Fear and more fear. Fear in the day, as I fret over my place in this universe. Fear in the night, as my mind slowly consumes itself in waking nightmares.

EVERY SINGLE DAY, EVERY BLOODY NIGHT.

Oh nausea! Ennui! A restless rest and static floating!

Oh, would that I melt and become water, flowing downhill to rejoin the eternal ocean. Oh, would that my fear achieve its apparent aim, and utterly obliterate the connections that hold me together.

Obsession of obsessions: obsessed with my obsessions.

One day, I promise myself, I will release this fear and angst, baked and hardened kernel feeding my doubt. I will give it back, down through the ages.

No blame. No blame. As if the universe can be faulted for a thing!

I will return this gift bestowed upon me, the one that has consumed me, dictated my life, for thirty-five years and ten months to the day.

But right now, this instant, I am afraid.

3 Comments

  1. Fear is a wondrous catalyst and the apparent bane of an existence of contentment. It is also a tool of our survival instinct, but a disease that eats away at our social skills…

    Liked by 1 person

  2. I read this yesterday and then hurriedly started typing my feelings. Erased and retyped. And erased again. I realised my heart and mind weren’t at the same space. So I quietly went back to get them both in order. I had so much to say and I didn’t know how.

    In the meantime I read your poem at least 5 more times and each took me to times I have been afraid. Simply to be myself. I always thought nobody understood that.

    Yesterday I realised you do. You must have written this, being in that same space of fear.

    And these lines “Obsession of obsessions: obsessed with my obsessions.” gave me goosebumps. It reminded me of a time I spent obsessing about death. All I craved back then was to end my life. Facing some of the worst decisions of my life is also the biggest fear I face quite often. And it is easier said than done. Thank you for writing this. I wouldn’t have had the courage to write something like this.

    Some of the words mirror what I go through on a daily basis. This is exactly the reason why I mentioned you too in my poem “where is HOME”

    Your world of words help me see a part of myself I lack the courage to see otherwise Matthew.

    Liked by 1 person

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