Busy Never Fearing Dying

I realise I never feared dying.

I never feared dying.

I feared driving too fast and getting my deserved blame for it. I feared not being enough for the people I wanted.

I feared, and I feared.

Feared handling my own decisions and opening my mouth to scream in public if I ever lost control, feared what it would look like to lose control.

But I never feared dying.

I got on buses and felt the full spectrum of boredom, I never feared that, and I constantly used connecting phrases in my sentences like ‘either way’ or just the word ‘like’, and never feared that, too.

There were highlights to all of this,

Moments of great beauty like smelling the one white white opal flower in her breaking-apart hair during the caving-in night

Or ones of great agony usually caused by how much great beauty would turn out mattering to me.

I feared these things, because to fear you have to care.

And that’s what I mean, I never feared dying.

I feared losing things.