Monday, June 21, 2010


It is a fear so intense that I can’t even bring myself to look at it. I know it’s there, I can feel its breath behind me, icy-cold and impossible to escape. I can even see its cavernous dark underbelly if I allow myself to look to the side just slightly, but I turn away as soon as I see its black hole of emptiness.

Instead I keep looking straight ahead, tie my blinkers on more firmly, double-knotted like I learnt at Brownies, and hope that, before it devours me whole, some incredibly brave creature will swoop down in a flash of light, its wings blowing warm air over me, and carry me away to a place where I am safe from it.

Have I told you of my fear of loneliness before?


Angela said...

You do not need to tell us. We all have it.
And yet, fear leads to nothing good. It makes you stop breathing, and waiting for signs that all the possible bad things will happen, and you become unable to live. But living is what we must, and want, and can. In the end we are all alone, you know. We can spend time together, enjoy our company, but we are still on our own. We can be like strings on a violin or a guitar, play together, but we never become one.
So, dear Shiny, accept things as they come. You will never be alone, not the way you are. But everyone must decide which way to go. Happiness can only be voluntary.

allie said...

Some incredibly brave one has already swooped down.
A great rescue mission against loneliness has already happened. Has noone told you yet?