my name is fear
i've come to realise, yet again, that thought is what brings me to my knees, brings me to misfortune and keeps me tied up, criss-crossed and painfully aware of what i am and what that is missing.
having an imagination that often runs wild in a bad manner creates a distance between struggle and what is actually actual. what really happens and what i'd thought would happen, what i want to happen and what does not happen. the summary of ones thoughts is enough to hold me back. tied to this sofa, existing only on memories and hopes that one day, all might change. that one day, i might wake up and walk outside with a different frame of mind.
the ultimate disease, the one you create, the one that is purely fictional.
the one that carries all your hopes and dreams, and yet possess the power to destruct all of the same.
leaves you scarred for life from something that has yet to happen.
my flight is this, my inner voice has too much to say.
left bled and empty, only a fraction of what used to be.
nothing left to grow new lands and experiences on and from.
sitting here, pale and paler. growing weary but stronger, more resilient and slowly becoming a bug in a huge world, that is this apartment. expanding the mind just doesn't cut it anymore, this space will still be tiny compared to what i miss.
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