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If I give my heart to the only thing I put my hope in —will it hurt
when the world tells me that I am not enough? —will it villify this road I took without looking back? —will it siphon the joy— the gladness— out of my hands?
I am afraid that if I give my heart —all of it— to this one thing I could ever hope for that it's going to kill me when the world tells me that I am not enough
I am afraid of losing the only thing keeping me afloat in the vast waters of life —of the nebulous joy being siphoned under me—
I am afraid of what would happen if I give my heart to live fully only to have it swept under my feet —leaving me alone, dead and hungry
