Desire is a dangerous thing. Almost as dangerous as hope.
The moment you feel a hunger in your soul for something, it can own you.
I do not enjoy being owned, but I am bent.
A longing bows me towards the life I want, the girl I want, the peace I want,
But I resist it
Simply because I know that I could not withstand the hope that I might have it.
It is a delicate balance to be struck, though, because without any desire,
Without any tightening of your chest to guide you through life, you are.... cut adrift.
This can be scarier than being tractor-beam pulled toward a situation you can see ending badly, because then you are pulled toward nothing.
Nothing has gravity,
Nothing has weight, and it dismays you to find that although you no longer have to run
From your secret, devastating wishes
By drowning out the silence when the sun sets,
You must still run in the same way, but this time from the knowledge that you don't know what to wish for.
Desire is a dangerous thing.
Dangerous in presence and dangerous in lack.
Do you understand how fragile it is that we are human? How vulnerable? How shaky and unsure?
This skin that barely holds us in imprisons us well, because we are just a little bit more afraid to leave it
Than we are terrified to stay.
It is a dangerous, dangerous thing to be a person.
To want anything.
To want nothing.
There is no safety. It is a truth that will always rub me like a rock in my shoe that I can't dislodge.