I will be honest I’m not afraid of death,

I have a belief, I have a spiritual connection

I know there is more than this.

I’m afraid of time.

The way the clock ticks, taunting me every second.

I’m afraid I won’t have enough of it.

I notice how quickly the hours in the day pass, and the weeks and the months, and years, the sun sets, the sun rises.

I can’t imagine a life without my parents, they are a soul in me when they leave, I’m not sure if I’ll ever be as bright as I was.

I don’t fear not falling in love (again) because I noticed I don’t need anyone to live. I don’t fear a broken heart because I have had one dead and weightless — I revived it myself.

I do fear isolation.

I fear the way I now look at people, that I put a cage around my heart,

When eyes meet mine I look down, that I create my own loneliness out of fear that I can’t find what I thought I lost.

I fear people won’t understand my soul.

I’m a cluster of starburst and ancient moons that I’m too different, not ordinary enough — and no one would want the sunflower in a bed of peonies.

I’m terrified that I keep these thoughts bottled up inside me, that I’m a life-sentenced prisoner in my mind, of worries, ‘what ifs’ — that this anxiety in my chest is going to eat at my heart taking away from the beauty of life in its truest form.

I fear that I have no purpose yet everyone tells me differently.

I fear that no matter how hard I work I will be a failure to myself.

I fear that I won’t feed my hunger, the depths of my mind that I want to feed.

I want the meaning to know how to end suffering, answers to the riddles of love and life

I don’t just want a career — I want a life.

To reflect at 80 years old and be proud of what I have left.

I fear the word “happiness” —

I fear people have taken away the true meaning.

Happiness, happiness, happiness, with the number of likes on a photo, the portrayal of what people think looks like happiness, a toned body, a vacation in Bali, a mansion.

The preaching of how to be happy, to medicate, to mediate, to appreciate….

I fear people won’t shut up and actually listen to what they are hiding.

Happiness is an internal journey, love, sex, and people can add to that journey but I see people have all of it the “complete package”

money, fame, fortune, love, and happiness is still missing

I fear that I will not be able to unlock the depths of me,

I fear that no one is listening that I’m screaming in a crowded room,

I fear that no one truly cares,

I fear that I care too much, that I feel too much

I fear that my heart on my sleeve is suffering,

Being bruised and picked at like a scab for the enjoyment of others —

I fear how the world is changing, and I don’t know where I fit.

Yours until I heal,

A Constant (art) Work In Progress.

Thank you for reading my beautiful sunflowers.

Would love to hear from you.