It scares me. The dark of night, the depths of it. The world that revolves within it. A halo of darkness, the unknown that could brew itself up into a merciless storm in a heartbeat – or perhaps glimmering gold.
It scares me. The scale of it, a universe not yet existing in my head. Mountains to be scaled and yet a journey unknown. In the horizon, an impenetrable winter of heartbreaks and solitude. A world of pain, but hope comes with no map.
It scares me. The audacity. The pride, the sheer thought that it could be done despite my flaws. The unwarranted leap in logic, and onward into the sea of mysteries. It is as if fear had no place, but here I stand. Frozen.
Frozen, because I am on borrowed time.
Frozen, because I would hopefully be pummeled into shape.
Frozen, because I have nothing but a dream.
Frozen, because I’m not ready.
I’m not ready. Everyone’s up on stage and I’m hiding in the dressing room. Curled up into a ball, frozen in desperation. Not ready to throw it all away, not ready to walk a solitary path – not ready for the inevitable, gradual fall.
I’m scared.