Saturday, September 29, 2007
My Fears
I'm not afraid of anything. - Well, that's not quite true. Actually I'm afraid of practically everything.
It all starts when I wake in the morning. Am I still me? Remember what happened to Gregor Samsa? I rush to the mirror for reassurance. Who is that wizened, wrinkled and ravaged stranger staring back at me? It seems only yesterday I was a teenager. What happened and where was I when it happened?
Next come the terrors of the kitchen. I fear the orange juice will have begun to taste rotten. Is the milk sour? Is the butter rancid? Is the bread moldy? Am I to have no peace?
Do you realize that all the little events of the day to come carry an opportunity for disaster. Is it any wonder I fear to leave the house. Pass the Prozac please!
Imagine how much worse it would be if I didn't have that portrait of myself in the back room. You know, the one that shows all the scars of my many transgressions. (Oops! I seem to have wandered into someone else's story. Sorry Oscar!)
It all starts when I wake in the morning. Am I still me? Remember what happened to Gregor Samsa? I rush to the mirror for reassurance. Who is that wizened, wrinkled and ravaged stranger staring back at me? It seems only yesterday I was a teenager. What happened and where was I when it happened?
Next come the terrors of the kitchen. I fear the orange juice will have begun to taste rotten. Is the milk sour? Is the butter rancid? Is the bread moldy? Am I to have no peace?
Do you realize that all the little events of the day to come carry an opportunity for disaster. Is it any wonder I fear to leave the house. Pass the Prozac please!
Imagine how much worse it would be if I didn't have that portrait of myself in the back room. You know, the one that shows all the scars of my many transgressions. (Oops! I seem to have wandered into someone else's story. Sorry Oscar!)
