I'm still afraid of vacuums. They pose a threat, sizing me up to suck in my existence. Actually, I may be more afraid of loosing this fear than I am of afraid of loosing myself. I'm not fearless.
I'm in constant worry over the sake of actually loosing my fears. They are all I have in connection to the freedom of youth. Nobody stops a child from believing. Since I've shed my baby fat and balled up fists of tears, you think it's right to take away my eyes of innocence? You tell me I am either right or wrong; there is no sense being creative.
I'm afraid of this darkness adulthood presses upon me. I hope my flashlight never goes out.
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