Jan 7
Eyes of Fear
Can you see her? The way she laughs as she twirls, effortless, unstoppable, her rhythm pulling me into her storm.
I stand still, frozen, trapped in the shadow she casts. Do you see her? There, in the grey-blue of my eyes, watching, waiting, whispering commands I cannot ignore.
Do you see the fear? She hides in the depths, lurking in the quiet spaces of my soul. If you dared to look closer, you’d feel her too.
She steals my breath before the day can claim it, her hands wrapped tightly around my chest, pressing until I am hollow.
The scent of fresh bread, warm tea, sweet juice – they mock me. My plate stays empty, my glass untouched.
I hear her voice screaming: "Not that bread. Not those calories. If you eat now, if you take more than you deserve, you’ll become too much – you’ll be too much."
I‘ve always been too much —
The phone rings. A message lights up the screen. I don’t answer. I don’t look. I don’t want to know. I don’t want to hear what disaster awaits me this time.
I want to step outside, but the door is a fortress, its hinges groaning beneath the weight of my hesitation. The world beyond is too loud, too bright – a sea of faces, voices, laughter. Every glance feels like a verdict, every word a whisper about me. They know my flaws. They see my cracks.
My thoughts spin endlessly, a hurricane with no eye. I need to buy groceries, but I wait for nightfall. The dark hides me better. Fewer people. Fewer eyes. No one to judge the weight of me.
Fear dances, her laughter echoing in every corner. She knows no fear herself. She drags me to the darkest places, relishing my trembling. Her favorite season? Always Halloween.
Fear rises before the dawn, her shadow stretching long over my bed. She wakes me before the sun, her voice a relentless drumbeat: "I am here. I will always be here."
Once, she was meant to protect me. But now, she tears me apart.
I fear her, the way she whispers my failures back to me, the way she plants doubt like seeds in my mind, until I can no longer tell where her voice ends and mine begins.
How do you silence a shadow that breathes through your soul? But even shadows cannot exist without the light they fight to obscure.
Perhaps, somewhere beyond the darkness, a spark still waits for me.
Can you see her? The way she laughs as she twirls, effortless, unstoppable, her rhythm pulling me into her storm.
I stand still, frozen, trapped in the shadow she casts. Do you see her? There, in the grey-blue of my eyes, watching, waiting, whispering commands I cannot ignore.
Do you see the fear? She hides in the depths, lurking in the quiet spaces of my soul. If you dared to look closer, you’d feel her too.
She steals my breath before the day can claim it, her hands wrapped tightly around my chest, pressing until I am hollow.
The scent of fresh bread, warm tea, sweet juice – they mock me. My plate stays empty, my glass untouched.
I hear her voice screaming: "Not that bread. Not those calories. If you eat now, if you take more than you deserve, you’ll become too much – you’ll be too much."
I‘ve always been too much —
The phone rings. A message lights up the screen. I don’t answer. I don’t look. I don’t want to know. I don’t want to hear what disaster awaits me this time.
I want to step outside, but the door is a fortress, its hinges groaning beneath the weight of my hesitation. The world beyond is too loud, too bright – a sea of faces, voices, laughter. Every glance feels like a verdict, every word a whisper about me. They know my flaws. They see my cracks.
My thoughts spin endlessly, a hurricane with no eye. I need to buy groceries, but I wait for nightfall. The dark hides me better. Fewer people. Fewer eyes. No one to judge the weight of me.
Fear dances, her laughter echoing in every corner. She knows no fear herself. She drags me to the darkest places, relishing my trembling. Her favorite season? Always Halloween.
Fear rises before the dawn, her shadow stretching long over my bed. She wakes me before the sun, her voice a relentless drumbeat: "I am here. I will always be here."
Once, she was meant to protect me. But now, she tears me apart.
I fear her, the way she whispers my failures back to me, the way she plants doubt like seeds in my mind, until I can no longer tell where her voice ends and mine begins.
How do you silence a shadow that breathes through your soul? But even shadows cannot exist without the light they fight to obscure.
Perhaps, somewhere beyond the darkness, a spark still waits for me.
