Fear
A reflection on dying
Today, I woke up crying. And it’s not because of anything internal, any me-problems. I think for the first time in my life, I was genuinely afraid.
I knew this would come with moving to Israel, of course. I’m cushioned by the bubble and fortification of Tel Aviv; but this doesn’t mean I don’t exist in the broader war landscape. I knew this of course, but I didn’t really ever internalise the fact that I could die here. Nothing bad will ever happen to me right; bad things don’t happen to me, right?
Today I cried because of the goddamn threat of death. To feel truly helpless, to have no control, is suffocating. I don’t think I’ve ever felt fear in its thick and carnal flesh, but today I know it cradled me with death. And though my brain has been decaying and my body withering for a while, this could be the corporeal slap that is real and tangible.
What life do I have to save? I’m not sure. But there’s some potential sitting in me that’s sitting pretty; even if it is and always will be eaten by the Misery.
I am learning to coexist with the Fear. For Iran didn’t strike today, but there’s always tomorrow. I mean ultimately it was Hope that was the only thing left in Pandora’s Box.
