I find myself watching the sea view from my office. November Eight, a bit cloudy, feeling coolness with
a t-shirt.
Sliema on a side, Valleta on the other, open sea in the middle.
Elbows resting on the railing of the terrace.
“Will I fucked up? It’s November and you’re with t-shirt and shorts. Look the view, where you will find another one like this? And if it’s cold there? And if you don’t like it?”
From zero to one hundred, the head is crowded with thoughts, one calls the other, an answer become the next question.
I call to help the logic that tries to build structure, one block on top of the other, a pyramid of sureness. “It’s gonna be allright, everything is reversible, you reason, doesn’t make sense what you’re thinking, calm down, …”.
It’s not enough: the head keep generate questions, beats strong, I have the feeling I don’t touch the ground anymore. Is it for sure the fresh wind or the metal railing in contact with nude arms, but I'm shivering.
Beats, beats, beats.
And then...I stop.
I stop to tease myself and I accept it. I accept
this fear. I welcome it and I do it smiling, for how strong it is.
I let ithug me, seeing it on my nude arms.
You will be welcome, I will never refuse you and I will smile always at you, my dear fear.
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Nov 06, 2019
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