Fear.

                                                     Fear.

Do you get those times when you have extreme nightmares, that you kick the bed, trip around an’ fall?

Why’d you do that?

Fear?

What’s fear?

For some hollerin’ and kickin’ doesn’t make up fear. The lump that forms in your throat and the slime that echoes through your body, is that what the feared word is?

Sometimes, questions are the answers to their own selves.

You don’t answer questions.

You just repeat them.

Fear.

The one word which puts us all into a witful trauma.

The one word that no one else has ever gotten an answer to.

The one word for no one has bothered to think upon.

Why’d you shout? Why’d you holler?

That isn’t fear. That’s decision.

Beautifully knitted one-sided decision.

Some goodbyes are the hardest. Some, they don’t hurt you.

Then? Left outs, you don’t name them. You just shriek for a while with the difficult swallowing and tears welling but what’s after? You start movin’ over.

Lump? They’re attributes. They’re your decisions.
For you don't even know if fear is supposed to be feared. 

‘That’s what humans are famous for, fabricating peculiarity.’

But no one’s ever naming fear. They’re attributes annexed to

‘Why do you fear?’

When a flock of birds is up into the mountain free air, what do they fight and fear tooth and nail?

Downfall? Or their Wings?

The answers to these questions cannot contradict the question itself,

But, it can support it.

Only when the bird fumbles with its wings, it falls.

But, what is your fear?

Love? The fear of losing them.

Hate? The fear of creating opposition.

Success? The fear of doing less.

Failure? The fear of growing up in life.

For, fear is not supposed to be tormented upon.

‘cause fear’s always there.

You aren’t.

Are you?

Syzygy

                                                      Syzygy.

With fatigue closing over me, I dropped. My eyelashes lost all its glam and fell down for a while with weariness. With tears drizzling from my closed eyelashes, I knotted my hands over to my waist and wondered in my bed. I was tired. I was supposed to sleep. But, things I wasn’t supposed to think were haunting me.

We were contrasting. Like the dark clouds and the moon, we went with each other. When we smiled, it wasn’t I who collapsed.

We were like black and white, going on with each other. All I forgot to know was that I was low visibility in there. You like colors. Maybe that’s why you put me into a pulling up aloha color.

You turned black. Turning me into the color that no one would bawl upon. You were the same black which would go well with every other tinge. 

Fine.

We were complementary, weren’t we?

No. Don’t answer. Maybe I would have to start it all over again if you answer.

My bed squeaked as I cuddled. I sweated in patches. My hair was thrown into a perfect bun as I crept silently onto the next part.

I wondered my destination. It was all black. I didn’t know where the beginning and the ending were. I put my hands up in the air and searched for the walls. I could not feel a sense of hope. I turned around. As time passed by, my vision could catch the walls.

I could see a thin line of sunlight raying inside the room. The room of despair. Suddenly, a light up inside the endless castle started flickering. I was not inside a black room. I was inside a white room with the light put off.

The light kept flickering. When it was on for a second, I wanted to know the next time it would go. When it was off, I couldn’t find my pipe dream.

Through the gutter, I was in despair to make my way out. From glimmering, the luminescence stayed on for the rest of the while.

It was all white, then. White had no bounds. 

As I turned a 360 degree pointing at the whites, there was a black door. The ray of sunlight plopped in from there. A narrow thin ray flowed in. I tripped down to the black door, amused. My index painted the door and pulled down the knob. It became harder as I pushed the door, the next option. I turned right and let my arm twitch the door. I pushed it with all of the force I had. My arms started cringing. 

The door creaked. I shouted and acted wild. But, not a tear escaped. I banged on the door for a lifetime.

Finally, the black glossy door totally shattered.

I stepped out. Into the reality. Maybe reality is just real. That is why they call that, that.

“The reality never bothered me anyway.”