liralen: Finch Painting (Default)
[personal profile] liralen
There is a large part of me that is convinced that in the end I am nothing but the sum of my fears. That nothing I've done, nothing I will do, and nothing that I can do will count, will matter, maybe especially to me. That all I'll have left are the things I was afraid to do for my whole life.

I'm not talking physical fears. I've played soccer, fenced, fought, and heard gunfire. I've swum, ran, climbed, jumped, flown, driven like a maniac, and gone through childbirth with no drugs. It's not pain, or physical living or dying that scares me.

It's the fears that wither the soul. The dying of faith. The slow dripping away of self-confidence and courage. It's like being unemployed or disabled, but far worse. It's being completely physically, socially, monetarily, mentally able to do something but just putting it off for another day...

At the heart of it is a terrible uncertainty. I have no central desire. I have nothing that I want to do or be more than anything else. I can do nearly anything. I want to do nearly nothing, especially if it's for myself. For me that seems a great sin to not desire anything so strongly that I would do it. Or maybe it's nothing. Nothing at all. Because, in the end, if I stay the way I have been, it will result in nothing at all.

March 2025

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