Fear

To know the world, the way it seems
But not know what any of it means

I am at a loss. I know not where to turn, to whom I should turn, when to turn, or why to turn. After much time, I have dug a hole, one in which I am comfortable and safe. Life is static, an unending sequence of days, one passing by the next. My soul cries out in agony, demanding to break free from this existence, to spread its glorious wings and fly. To live.

And yet, a nagging voice in the distance remains, torturing me with a single enticing word: "Wait." My conscious mind reels, aware that this one idea has taken root without invitation. It is inevitable. I will wait.

I have no idea for what it is that I wait, though a part of me wants to guess. That part of me knows what it wants. I want a single, satisfying, simple, easy answer. I know, deep down, that this answer does not exist, that to wait for it is beyond futile. I cannot help myself. As long as the possibility is there, I will wait.

Is this a mirage, this thing for which I so desperately and patiently await? Admitting the answer to this question, which I know beyond a doubt, would be to give up hope. I cannot face it. I accept the consequences of my actions, instead choosing to believe that the end will justify the means. I must wait. I cannot help but feel that, if I give in, and move on, the answer will suddenly be there for me. Only it will be too late. I will have missed my chance, having given up on it.

And so I continue, day in and day out. The feelings remain, but so does the possibility that things could be different. The possibility that, however unlikely, the answer suddenly presents itself. I become accustomed to this, dependent on it, and slowly but surely build up a tolerance for this pain in my heart. Before long, I forget what what it feels like to be alive. To take in each breath and know that it means something. To be free to give of myself to others. To feel joy and elation at what amazing things life has to offer.

I know not sorrow. I know not pain. I think I do, but in truth I know neither. There is something deeper, something far worse. I know fear.