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.
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