To love the fear, to love the absurd.

It's 4:16am. What feels like a slumbering cold winter night, seeps into tomorrow's glow. I am afraid of myself. I am afraid of all of the things I will do, and say. I am afraid of who I will become if I give into the things inside of my veins, the person that hides behind my mask. If I do someday succumb to it, I think the horror will be too much for my life to bare. It might just break my mind, and all of the things that I hold dear. I think it will be so immense, that my heart may struggle to beat, my eyes will begin to fog, and the blood that rushes through my veins will blacken to a char so unnoticeable and thick that will flow no longer. It will begin to shut my lungs down, as I struggle for life to escape my being. I know that one day, this fear will consume me, but it may be the day I accept the coldness of death. Alas, I have fallen in love with such a disastrous being, to love apathy and the absurd, to love the feeling of not caring. To love without care, it makes me feel free. To be truly free, no longer burdened by society, or fear. I am free, I say to myself and I care not of the outcomes, because I am here, I am free.