Do I dare to convey my emotions?
To go out on a limb and shed off that which is expected of me.
The mere thought sets off a sensation of bugs crawling in my abdomen.
To hold my tongue and silence my actions, would that make me nothing more than a lie?
Though, in the lie, there is comfort.
It is what makes my safe haven, that which walls me from the "what could" and "what if".
My protector and warden.
Is paranoia all that it is?
These feelings of dread and terror might as well be self-inflicted delusions.
Altering that which I perceive to be a risk.
Or is it justified to be that which I sense?
Should I remain, halt myself to escape destruction of hope.
For that's what it is, that's what I cling to.
Changing that which is, will mean it can never be what it was.
In fear of the worse, I deny the better, keeping the hope alive in refusal.
Refusal to take actions, refusal to speak up, refusal to change.
All for the sake of hope. Hoping that when the lie ends, the better will happen.
It leaves me to think.
Do I stay dormant, embraced by the dream which could be?
Or do wake up, experiencing that which is, for what it will be?