The Fear


It is fear that makes us drink when we’re already drunk.
It is fear that makes parents pick up their kids from school.
It is fear that wakes us at night to touch the person on the other side of the bed.
It is fear that makes us subjective, compliant, lenient, trustworthy, kind, unpredictable, rude, good or bad, phoney.
It is fear that makes us pick up the phone.
It is fear that makes us fall in love.
It is fear that makes us say “don’t go”, “never”, “forever”, “really”.
It is fear that keeps us awake until the sun is up.
It is fear that gives us no reason to get up from bed.
It is fear that makes us come up with arguments, create art, start conversations, be silent in love, cry when we are not alone.
It is fear that makes us care for everyone we don’t admire.
And it is fear that we prefer to be loved simply by those we care for.
It is fear that makes us want, and it is fear that makes us wish.
It is fear that moves us; it is fear that defines us.
It is fear that makes us believe that everything matters.

It is the fear of this eternal
This unrevokably facsimile each and every time “something”, getting lost

Blood and souls, to hell with them:
There is no more time left to be afraid
And I stop.

P.S. Redemption lies in the loss of expectations. Otherwise, if you are lucky, comes a day when you finally let go.

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