It's pretty easy to start to forget who you are when you've been reminded so often of who you're supposed to be.
Subjectivity is the robber in the night, taking always from the unaware.
Until you find it.
And then you fuck it up.
Or, hope to at least...
Get it before it gets you.
Hoping always that you find no fear in the moment. Yet, still failing.
Unless, maybe, you train for it?
Give up. It's a trade off. Some might say a sacrifice. But only such if what you give up is more than what you get in return.
A fallacy.
It's a selfish act.
It makes you feel good.
But, goddammit, how do you make them feel good if you can't enjoy it too?
Sometimes...
They are worth more than you.
Sometimes you are worth more than it all.
The hard part is the question.
I suppose that the hardest part is that you are never so far from dying then when you are ready to die.
Those moments are so few and far apart.
And always jealous of each other.
But the fear.
The fear...
It remains.
Fear is the greatest of emotions,
because it compounds the day.
It mocks the pain and forgives nothing.
The same nothing that is always Something.
The something you long to forget.
The something that you should.
The something that should be something.
We understand nothing because nothing needs no explanation!
But, fuck. It should.
Don't we deserve that? To stand up to fear?
We do. But not if we allow fear the power it so desperately desires.
Which I do on account of me.
Probably because I'm scared as fuck.
In which case...
I deserve it.
