# 43 || " christmas night: it clutched the light, the hallow bright "

Lately life seems like a labyrinth of patience-infused barricades, with the final shreds of my sanity resting solely on the frustration of not knowing what is around the corner and the curiousity of wondering what is. One day I won’t be as young as you say I am now, and the fear pinned to that “one day” is excruciating. Fear is so isolating, isn’t it? Maybe it could be comparable to the terror of snakes and spiders, but no, it feels like so much more. Because the simplicity of an aversion to tangible things is that you can avoid what you’re scared of. It’s easier to steer clear of something you can see.

But something like the future, something so vast and volatile like life and everything it encompasses … … what do you do when you’re frightened? I’m scared not of what is around the corner waiting to pounce, but that this maze could be everlasting, that around every corner lays only another corner, and I’ll be running faster and faster just to spin around in circles until it’s all over. At some point of each extreme, insanity and sanity overlap to form a limbo that I’ve been lingering within for as long as I can remember. I wish I knew the antidote to this perpetual vertigo, because I don’t want to cascade anymore.


christmas wish-list:
an epiphany
lots and lots of glitter
a really warm summer
to explore