Scared

I'm scared that who I am, the society I live in is crumbling, a sandcastle in the surf. I'm scared that who I am isn't consistent and I'm not sure if I ever knew who I was (standard that). I'm scared that I did at one point but it fluttered away. I'm scared that I won't be capable of acting when necessary. I'm terrified that I will. I'm scared of indecision. I'm scared that repercussions will be oceanic, sending ripples in every conceivable concentric direction (but more so that there will be none whatsoever). I'm scared that my life, my culture, my world is skidding ass-over-tea kettle into a sparkling rimmed void, and that the last thing I hear will be a satisfied belch from said void.

I'm scared that my life is a waste. I'm terrified of my emotions but even more so that I'm a budding sociopath watching my emotions wither in the callous human sun. I'm concerned that I'll be wholeheartedly embraced for that. I'm scared that I'm just a dream and someday someone will crave bacon and eggs or have to take a piss and I'll drift off into a vapor and dissipate completely. The likelihood is higher that I'm a nightmare and the worst is forthcoming. Surprisingly, that really doesn't freak me out that much.

I'm worried about later and all the echoes it sends back. I'm scared of infinite possibilities inherent within existence - more so the horrifying ones rather than the wonderful ones, but they're kinda freaky too. (Will we ever evolve?) I don't want to be forgotten, but I'm not sure I want to be remembered either. I'm afraid of failure and mortified of success. I don't want to know what happens to me either way. But if it does, will it alter me physically, mentally and emotionally. Will my metamorphosis be a butterfly or a dung beetle (sorry roaches). I'm not afraid of dying, or getting cancer or terrorists. Should I be? That probably should scare me.

I'm wary of chaos and live in terror at the idea of order. I'm scared to leap when I've looked and even more so that I can predict the outcomes accurately. I perturbed by the idea of certainty circumventing uncertainty and kicking me right in the happy sacks. I'm utterly horrified at the prospect of anything beyond random patterns to the universe. I'm down for Kurt Vonnegut's Church of God the Indifferent if no other choice but to be religious.

What if I never sleep again, that freaks me out. But when Dream has me in her embrace, I still want to wake up and roll out of bed. I'm scared that the world never will give two shits about the nasty case of crabs it has, and when said crabs run out of food and oil and poison their own surroundings or incinerate themselves - unless the black hole beats us to it - that we won't even register as a sub-footnote in the end notes of the universe. I'm also entirely certain this will happen. I'm also certain I'm living the exact opposite lie than I desire to - now that's freaky.

The list of fears is ominously long: scared to love, scared to hate, scared to care...Confrontation gives me hives. Reality and its repercussions are fucking my brain up. Dating and relationships - now there's a manufacturing plant of fear and repression. I'm spooked out that I'll wake up one day and really get it through my thick skull that I'm an image package designed by a sarcastic, nihilistic art culture that offered me up as a living joke (not a god, this is a human package). That's a punchline I don't relish.

I'm frightened of my own potential and of finding out that I have none. My friends scare me more than strangers. But i love them for it - now that's fuckin' tweaked out. I'm scared that some day I'll look in the mirror and a dullard's face will gawk back at me. I'm afraid it's already the case, though. And ism's, ism's make me wet my pants: narcissism, nihilism, fascism, patriotism, solipsism, onanism, organism...shit I could go on and on (spose I already have) , but let's face it I'm just SCARED!

Wait a minute. After sloshing all these words onto paper - well pixellated paper anyway - it's like being 5 and pulling the old rusty chain in the basement. 60 faded watts of incandescant illuminates everything. I'm not really scared of these things. It's all in my head.

Now that's scary.

So this is where it all begins

(So I have decided to feast anew on the wacky notion of introductory statements. My prior introductory statement was a little bit too akin to the Fuck You mindset I exhibited when I first began my blogging experiment. Realizing that now a few people have actually stumbled across my blog, and were possibly confused by my opening statement, I present the redux):

Anew the day breaks, and its freshly becoming one of those days: the ones where your keys fall into the toilet, your boss seems extra-intolerable and your pants seem to have shrunk one size in the wash. Or perhaps its been a lovely day, where the sun smiles upon your shoulder, your smart-phone gains its own personality - a rather delightful one - and your body melts into the dashboard of your car, allowing you unusual distraction from your commute.

Either way, you're here now, and you really are capable of choosing whether you wish to peruse, exit or imbibe. Either way I hope you stay; put your feet up, watch a horror movie or sample a story from my day or my subconscious.

Welcome. It's your life - for better or worse - and I can only distract you from it. Hopefully with positive results.