July 3rd

I do wonder sometimes why he is with me, why he puts up with me, what draws him back to me every time I create a fuss. But then I think about how much I love him, and I see sometimes how he looks at me and I know he feels the same. As if that one look is a perfect substitute for any word in the world, from it I get everything he could ever want to make me understand. My mind is a violent devil; my worst enemy. It convinces me of my awfulness, how I could never be loved, but that one look fights it back again and again. From that wonderful feeling though, comes a deep obstinate terror, that one day, that look; my soldier fighting my daemons, will slowly fade and die, until I am alone in the dark, struggling in my own little war. But for now, I am happy.

“And by the way, everything in life is writable about if you have the outgoing guts to do it, and the imagination to improvise. The worst enemy to creativity is self-doubt.”

— Sylvia Plath

Fear

If you are afraid, then just be afraid. Do not hide it in darkness. Do not lock it away in a little wooden box. Do not stash it away in the back of your mind. Fear is organic. It will grow in silence, you will think you have forgotten it, and perhaps you do. But inside that little wooden box a tree will grow, it will grow to fruition until…Bang, bang, bang. Its fruit will drop one by one. The thuds will echo through your mind, a malevolent knocking… its trying to get out. It sparks your memory, of the friend you forgot. For a while after there is more silence, you are lulled into repression once more. But the fruit rots slowly, eating away at your little wooden box, its seeds fall through. They nestle in your mind, securing their roots in your subconscious. Growing and growing, trying to find light.

Then one day they do. Then you are in the dark. It got its revenge, that friend you forgot.