Fear is good for the species - without it, we would never have evolved to where we are now (well, ok, maybe it's a bad thing), or if we had, we would all have lopped our tongues off in a fan, and this would make kissing much less enjoyable.
When I was a teen, I spent more than a few minutes from time to time staring into my own eyes in a hair-spray-blurred bathroom mirror, with the door closed, and the shrieking sound of my siblings only barely dulled by the cheap hollow door, trying to burrow into my mind, looking for my “true self”.
From time to time, I would shed a tear.
I do not know now if they were mostly tears of pain and sorrow, or love and joy, but I know they made me feel…something...they made me feel something when my greatest fear was that I was not able to feel anything at all.
On those occasional trips down me-lane, there was a clawed hand of fear on the back of my neck...but you know, as often as I looked inside back then, I don't think that it mattered much.
I can control a lot inside my mind, but very little outside of it, and even though I like to dream of myself as the free God of my own universe, the truth is I am at the whim of chance and chaos every moment of the day. And when the shit hits the fan I wanted so desperately to stop with my tongue, I learn that I really don’t control much inside my mind after all.
The real answers I want are unattainable...either inside my personal universe or outside in the perceivable one.
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