Conversing with my chaos
It’s scary.
Scary to write.
Scary to do the most beautiful thing in this world for me.
Scary to defeat my fear and be brave.
Scary to brace myself, to find myself again.
Scary to find words flow from me when I thought the clouds couldn’t rain again.
It’s scary, to find rust can be removed.
Scary to know there’s love even when you are at your worst.
It’s even more scary to be loved when you are at your lowest for the fear that you aren’t worth it.
To be able to remove the brick at the bottom of the lego, but to know its only to rebuild it, is scary.
Its scary to be human and succumb into a whirl of self pity.
To be able to look through the mist only to find it clear for an afternoon, puts the mind at a scare.
But, you know what’s the best thing about being scared?
To be able to look at the world before you were and know you cannot be too scared to scare it away.
You only have to frighten it away, for that’s how you stop a hiccup.
And that’s all this was.
A scary hiccup that can succumb to a fright of sanity.
(“Conversations with Chaos” is my debut novel. People tell me that it’s pretty good. You should read and let me know, too. Get your copy here and then we could get some coffee)
