May 2017
Children are inclined to fear what they do not know. And as they (we) grow into adults, inclination turns into a program. It's simple: Don't know it? Then don't **** with it.
As an adult (teenager or whatever, adult. Period.), I am afraid of heights, but that seems like a rational or rather, a natural fear. Everyone's a little afraid of heights. But did you know that it's not the height im afraid of? Why?
Because I know how high a building is. I know that this building is fifty feet tall, I am certain that the building beside it is 30 feet tall. Height is something that I know, so why would I be afraid of something I know?
Do you really want to know what I'm afraid of?
Falling.
The uncertainty of the word "falling" gets to my head a lot. Falling into what? Falling out of what? What's falling? Who's falling? And the aftermath: Where will I land? Will somebody catch me? Is a rescue team waiting or will I become splattered like roadkill.
This is what I feel about love.
I do not know love. I've felt it, yes, from the gentle touches of my mother. From the somewhat friendly hugs from my brothers. From the casual touches shares between my friends and I. From the sometimes proud look I get from a hard to please father.
But I've never seen it.
You know how that saying goes right. "You gotta see this to believe it." How do you believe in something you haven't seen? How will you not feel fear in something you cannot see?
I know what you're thinking. "You can't see air, but are you scared of it?" Well, let me explain. Air can be produced in labs or packed in cans (don't think I haven't seen the news about China and air pollution). Air is blown into a balloon so that it can inflate. Air is blown so that dandelions can be free. Can love do that?
Getting to the point, I am afraid of love because I have not seen it on the people around me. I feel love from my mother's gentle touch but her eyes are empty, void, perpetually sad. I know she's seeking for a life outside the four corners of our home, but she's afraid to leave. I feel love in the somewhat friendly hugs of my brothers, but I see no compassion from the way they talk about the world, how callous they treat the women around them. I feel love in the casual touches I would share with my friends but I see no love in the way they lash out at me, their words cutting me carelessly, leaving me with jagged edges. I feel love in my father's sometimes proud looks, but I see no love in his heart, who without remorse ripped the family apart and set eyes for the nearest pretty young thing.
I only saw destruction, felt love but saw ruination. I feel, but I cannot see. And I am inclined to be afraid of the things I cannot see. Maybe this is why I like to destroy myself so much, because it's the only thing I've ever known.
As an adult (teenager or whatever, adult. Period.), I am afraid of heights, but that seems like a rational or rather, a natural fear. Everyone's a little afraid of heights. But did you know that it's not the height im afraid of? Why?
Because I know how high a building is. I know that this building is fifty feet tall, I am certain that the building beside it is 30 feet tall. Height is something that I know, so why would I be afraid of something I know?
Do you really want to know what I'm afraid of?
Falling.
The uncertainty of the word "falling" gets to my head a lot. Falling into what? Falling out of what? What's falling? Who's falling? And the aftermath: Where will I land? Will somebody catch me? Is a rescue team waiting or will I become splattered like roadkill.
This is what I feel about love.
I do not know love. I've felt it, yes, from the gentle touches of my mother. From the somewhat friendly hugs from my brothers. From the casual touches shares between my friends and I. From the sometimes proud look I get from a hard to please father.
But I've never seen it.
You know how that saying goes right. "You gotta see this to believe it." How do you believe in something you haven't seen? How will you not feel fear in something you cannot see?
I know what you're thinking. "You can't see air, but are you scared of it?" Well, let me explain. Air can be produced in labs or packed in cans (don't think I haven't seen the news about China and air pollution). Air is blown into a balloon so that it can inflate. Air is blown so that dandelions can be free. Can love do that?
Getting to the point, I am afraid of love because I have not seen it on the people around me. I feel love from my mother's gentle touch but her eyes are empty, void, perpetually sad. I know she's seeking for a life outside the four corners of our home, but she's afraid to leave. I feel love in the somewhat friendly hugs of my brothers, but I see no compassion from the way they talk about the world, how callous they treat the women around them. I feel love in the casual touches I would share with my friends but I see no love in the way they lash out at me, their words cutting me carelessly, leaving me with jagged edges. I feel love in my father's sometimes proud looks, but I see no love in his heart, who without remorse ripped the family apart and set eyes for the nearest pretty young thing.
I only saw destruction, felt love but saw ruination. I feel, but I cannot see. And I am inclined to be afraid of the things I cannot see. Maybe this is why I like to destroy myself so much, because it's the only thing I've ever known.
