I’ve been told that the only thing to fear is Fear itself.
I’ve never heard of anything so stupid.
In a world where every second could be your last, where every breath you take could be the one that kills you, Fear itself is the last thing that should be on your mind.
Hell, being afraid of the dark is more valid in a world like ours.
A world where emptiness reigns, darkness swallows everything, and all we have to call our own are our loved ones.
There is a hell of a lot more to be afraid of than being afraid of Fear.
I’ve laughed in the face of Fear, made jokes at it.
I’ve stormed into Fear’s home and made it my castle.
And while I can boast about these things there’s something that always gets me.
I’m alone.
Unloved.
Second son to both of my parents, I could’ve sworn I was supposed to be the favorite.
I crave the spotlight I’ve never gotten.
I practically swim in an ocean of my own tears, drowning in the saltiness.
I’m alone; I surround myself with friends and family who have a **** to give to me.
Who tell me they care and shower me with their make-shift happiness.
Some of them made me believe that they made the sun for me.
That they make it shine day after day just so I can look Fear in the eye and tell him off.
And while I do this there’s one thing I’m afraid of.
While I have all these friends there’s one thing I can’t stand happening.
I don’t want to ever wake up one day and see that the sun isn’t shining.
That Fear is a bigger man than he lets on.
That he knows what makes me die slowly inside.
I’ve been told that the only thing to fear is Fear himself.
That’s *******, cause I’m more afraid of being alone.

I remember the times we never had.
The moments we never shared.
The long nights of conversations composed of the sweet echoing of nothingness.
The days where we did nothing but we did everything.
I remember it all.
I remember the first date that never happened.
We went out to see a movie and eventually went for a walk around the block.
A walk that lasted **** near 3 hours.
I remember how sore your legs never were after that walk.
The moonlit sky, no clouds to hide the empty darkness, the sounds of emptiness echoed from every missing star.
The first kiss that never occurred happened under that sky.
Those “memories” keep playing back to me on days like this.
I take in every moment that never happened as if it was a dream sewn to the edges of my heart, I don't want to let go... But it never happened.
What's there to let go of?
I remember months passing, I treasured every moment I got to hear your voice.
The sweet honey of your words reverberating at the edges of my subconscious, slipping into reality.
I remember memories of dreams of hallucinations dipped in the wishing well of my heart.
And then I remember the bad times that never happened.
The arguments about things that would be forgotten.
The fights over things that never existed.
I remember how we made up.
I don't think I would have meant anything as much as I would have when I told you I was sorry.
I remember it all.
The “I love you's” in the middle of the night.
No reason to say it, we just wanted to..
But then I remember something that I should never have forgotten.
We never had memories of what love was.

Have you ever heard the Sky cry?
I heard the Sky cry for the first time the other day.
I've never heard anything so traumatizing.
Blue skies and cloudless days gave no signs to a sudden storm.
There was no weather forecast for this catastrophe.
There was no special news update for this world shattering event.
There was no way God could convince me that my world was about to end.
There was no way that He was going to prove to me that the apocalypse was going to come a few months too early.
My world enveloped in sorrow and pain, I watched.
I watched as rain hit the windows and streaked down them like tears rolling down cheeks.
I watched as lightning broke the calm of the day.
I watched as all Hell broke loose, I saw.
I saw and I heard.
Have you ever heard the Sky cry?
Do you know the sound a woman makes when she's told her only child is dead?
Do you know the sound of a broken man when he weeps in the middle of the night?
All hope gone from the world.
There is no such thing as tomorrow.
But I've heard rumors that there is a tomorrow, I don't want to see it.
I've heard the sound of a broken man weeping in the middle of the night.
I've heard the sound of rain thumping against my roof.
That hollow, empty sound.
It haunts my dreams.
I've started to have reoccurring dreams of nothing but black skies and rain.
When I'm alone, all I can hear is that sound.
The sound of hollowness, of broken hearts... of broken a man.
There's no hope, no relief, all that's left to do is to panic, so I panic.
My mind riddled with nothing but thoughts of what would make my Sky could turn so quickly.
What would my World could break so easily.
What would make my father cry?
I heard my father cry for the first time the other day.
I've never heard anything so traumatizing.