See, this is my fear. The only one that is real.
It is not that I will die, it is not that I might get sick, it is not pain.
It is not a ruin that scares me. A bankruptcy, a homelessness.
I feel no fear at the thought of losing Christopher and, if you know me at all, you know that the prospect of being alone is fairly attractive to me.
No,
the only loss that fills me with terror
is the loss
of myself.
Having to live my life along the guidelines set by others. Asking others what it is that I want, what it is that I need, what it is that I should. Relying on others to tell me what life is, what God is, what I am. Looking to others for love, for happiness, for purpose, for meaning
and for redemption.
Having to go where I am told, when I am told, to do what I am told.
Having to achieve what I am told I should achieve, wanting what I am told I should want to fulfill the expectations
of others.
That scares me.
That terrifies me.
That is hell
for me.
