Tag Archives: fears

Come what may, these fears do stay.

I am afraid.  In a sense I have always been afraid–of where I will end up in life, of whether or not I will be alone, of what I kind of person I will become.  But my biggest fear in life lately has been learning to accomodate myself in your absence.  It’s a nightmare.

As time exceeds old limits of our last encounter, I grow wearier every day.  I miss you, and long to tell you so.  It’s a challenge to crawl into bed at night and feel anything but empty.  I still cry for you.

I never understand what admitting these kind of things ever does for me.  I never know how to deny you.  I feel like I am forever holding onto you when I am someone you let go of a long time ago now.  You don’t even try and keep in touch on a friend basis anymore, and so I am happy that you don’t feel as burdened and consumed as I do.  I am glad you are making something of your life.

It’s not like my life doesn’t look any differently than the last time we met.  I know that I am growing too, inspite of everything.  But it is a stinted growth.  It is growth that is inhibited by fears of leaving the viability of us behind me.  Even after all that has happened, I am still afraid to leave you behind.

You would maybe find this quandary of mine to be funny.  Sad maybe.  Unneccessary.  But I don’t mind.  I am obliged to consider your place in my heart every day, and it is a task I have never relented.  I once considered you to be a reflection of myself–a soul that found answers where I could not, and fell limp where I stood taut.  That has never changed.

I have not forgotten our intricate dynamic.  The way we were never with a stranger in the company of one another.  You were a leader and a bit of an egoist–you shared yourself and I indulged.  It was as if I were designed to love your every whim and make it into my own.  To follow your direction but herald new meaning and breathe life into independant thoughts and shared memories.

And so as it currently stands, it is my understanding that I was born into this world to be that person for you.  I am here to be your other–and if you don’t feel the same for yourself, it has happened on my behalf anyways.

So I am still waiting for you.  I am afraid that I will wait for you for forever.

Winnie the Pooh


Reasons for my rhyme.

What are they?  This poetic, dramatic life of mine–for what reason does it persist?

I am depressed.  I am longing and broken and have nothing short of no will at all.  But I’m still here.  Life keeps going.

I’m just a cog.  I just fit into my little nook and keep the world rotating for as long as I should not break.  I am expendable.  I am replaceable.  I serve the axels their coffee and wish them well in their endeavours.  Life keeps going.

I sit alone.  I am anxious and I am lost.  I speak my heart, but I am not validated.  I am not acknowledged.  I am not mature, I do not know feeling, I am not sentient.  I’m still just that silly cog feigning stress.  All I need is some oil.  Life keeps going.

Life just keeps going.  I’m of no consequence.  I’m not a problem so much as an inconvenience.

This is the way I live.  I do not feel excitement.  My joy is menial and rehearsed.  I do not know the life you know.  I do not know the strides and the success and growth you have achieved.  I do not recognize them.  I do not understand them.  I fear them.

My life began the day I met you.  And I’ve been living my life as moments since I met you.  I wonder if there’s even been one day I have not thought of you.

How can it be that the closest I’ve felt to being alive was being with you?  What did you really offer me?  What was it about you that has made me so aware of my vulnerability to myself?  Life just keeps going and I can’t make it stop.  Every day you fade further and further away.  My life is fading.

Maybe you have nothing at all to do with this.  Maybe I have nothing at all to do with this.  I don’t even care.  I just want to know myself.  I want to know what you know.  I want to not be afraid anymore, of who I am and what I am capable of, and what I am incapable of.  I just want to know that my place in this world is warranted.  I don’t want to continue living if only for the few who would be sad.  I want to know more than that.

Attainable innocence.

I find myself in a state of constant wonder and fear.  I wonder what my future looks like.  I wonder what kind of people are kept within that future.  I wonder if there will be another somebody who will hold my heart.  I fear that there won’t be.

I wonder though, should I ever find myself facing someone I would potentially develop feelings with, I wonder if I will ever feel the same innocence as I did with my first relationship.  I wonder if first kisses, and first touches, will be as memorable and as comfortably uncomfortable.  I wonder if new flames will share that same vulnerable, beautiful light as the first.

What if it doesn’t?  Will it mean he’s just not the one?  Or will it simply mean that innocence is inconceivable in the eyes of those who have been broken?

I just want to feel whole again.  I want to be naive to the reality of cruel intentions.  Selfish intentions.  I want to know that there’s a person out there who holds a part of me that I have lost.  I want to know that there is still a place in this world where innocence is attainable.