I fear not my own death or even my living life, but I do fear that one day I’ll wake up and regret these feelings.

I fear not the night or even the Sun rays of the morning, but I do fear the thoughts the night brings or the idea I made it another day.

I fear not the loud noises of the day or the slight humming of the air, but I do fear the silence that even drowns out the humming and making my head pound.

I fear not the disappointment of myself or even the negative thoughts of myself, but I do fear the disappointment of others and saying out loud all the negative things at once.

I fear not the mystery of life or even the mystery of death, but I do fear that I’ll be going alone or that I’ll end up alone.

I fear not the unspoken words or even the gestures, but I do fear that I will speak to much or that my slight flinch will say something more.

I fear the things I can’t control.

I fear the things I have done.

I fear the things I have said.

But most of all, I fear myself, my mind, my life.