Nobody is Coming.

Afraid.

I am afraid. 

Wira. Hers was a tough soul, never giving in to the fundamental instinct of fear. She could look Death in the eye and send him home to his momma. Shaped by the countless years of torment by strangers and friends who judged her by unfair views contoured by society. She was a tough cookie. Never once dipped in milk, she armed herself with her dry humour and built an impenetrable wall of scorn around what was once her heart. 

I am afraid of people.

People bustling around like bees in a hive. People in large cities, people in small countryside towns. People in retail, people in law. Bankers, waitresses, real estate agents. Individuals so wrapped up in their own, insignificant problems that they become cruel. Cruel to their own. Hating. Jealousy. Picking apart people's personal lives when theirs is in shambles. 

I am afraid of myself.

Becoming one of them. With thoughts that didn't belong to me, with eyes that saw but do not see. Morphing into a faceless, nameless vessel whose mission was to infect. Infect more innocent minds to become like mine, like theirs.

I am afraid.

Afraid to soar, flying so high, free as a bird. To wish, for everything and nothing. To love, what is mine and everything that isn't. To let go, to hold on, to spiral out of control. Afraid to be myself, someone that nobody would accept. Afraid to change, for what should be better but turns out to be worse. 

I am afraid but nobody knows.

I am afraid but nobody cares.