Louise Spence
158.365
I can only confess, I'm afraid. Of what, I don't know; of whom, or why, seems foreign to me. All the explanations in my mind have solutions. I have nothing tangible to fear - the future is looming but it will be okay, no matter what. The downs in life will be followed by ups. I'll carve my own path in the concrete and alter what is set in stone and I will be different, just like everybody else.
So why is the dread in the pit of my stomach so inescapable? Why does it consume me some nights and reduce me to tears at the foot of my bed and break down all honesty until even I don't know why I'm there? What am I scared of facing? I have not lied, nor stolen, nor broken. I have not taken anything that was not mine to take. There is no dues I owe or penance to be paid and yet I feel like something is coming for me, to collect a debt I cannot gather. It cannot be love, I'm sure. I've already paid the cost of that happiness when it took a piece of me and claimed it for its own. I have nothing left to give that repoman, should he come knocking at my door. It would require immeasurable happiness first, before I could have enough to lose. And even then, I'd have to muster courage to allow that happiness in. I don't want to be wary of footsteps on my bedroom floor yet isn't that inevitable? They can only be followed by the swift footsteps of another; the heavy pounding of the debt collector knocking for his price.
That cannot be what I'm afraid of, not today.
And yet,
maybe.
Yesterday, with Hannah, was the first time I've ever been caught tresspassing. "Quick! Should we just... jump the fence?!"
and today I was in a slightly public area, so I saw like, four people. A little couple walked up to me, possibly in their sixties, and the man said, "clearly a girl after our own hearts!" I laughed and asked if they were photographers, they said yes but they didn't have their cameras on them today. I explained my 365 etc and they were charming and then they left.
Hm. Struggling with a few things. Predominantly, right now, french. My exam's tomorrow. Perhaps a little late to begin revision.
158.365
I can only confess, I'm afraid. Of what, I don't know; of whom, or why, seems foreign to me. All the explanations in my mind have solutions. I have nothing tangible to fear - the future is looming but it will be okay, no matter what. The downs in life will be followed by ups. I'll carve my own path in the concrete and alter what is set in stone and I will be different, just like everybody else.
So why is the dread in the pit of my stomach so inescapable? Why does it consume me some nights and reduce me to tears at the foot of my bed and break down all honesty until even I don't know why I'm there? What am I scared of facing? I have not lied, nor stolen, nor broken. I have not taken anything that was not mine to take. There is no dues I owe or penance to be paid and yet I feel like something is coming for me, to collect a debt I cannot gather. It cannot be love, I'm sure. I've already paid the cost of that happiness when it took a piece of me and claimed it for its own. I have nothing left to give that repoman, should he come knocking at my door. It would require immeasurable happiness first, before I could have enough to lose. And even then, I'd have to muster courage to allow that happiness in. I don't want to be wary of footsteps on my bedroom floor yet isn't that inevitable? They can only be followed by the swift footsteps of another; the heavy pounding of the debt collector knocking for his price.
That cannot be what I'm afraid of, not today.
And yet,
maybe.
Yesterday, with Hannah, was the first time I've ever been caught tresspassing. "Quick! Should we just... jump the fence?!"
and today I was in a slightly public area, so I saw like, four people. A little couple walked up to me, possibly in their sixties, and the man said, "clearly a girl after our own hearts!" I laughed and asked if they were photographers, they said yes but they didn't have their cameras on them today. I explained my 365 etc and they were charming and then they left.
Hm. Struggling with a few things. Predominantly, right now, french. My exam's tomorrow. Perhaps a little late to begin revision.