The first moments

were certainly the hardest. The convulsions seemed endless, like the disturbed river’s ripples by a skipping stone. My body was on fire, and my mind raced through life as if someone had jammed the fast forward button with a stick. My breath hastened, my heart palpitated  my eyes felt like they were about to pop out of my head. I wanted to rip them out. Rip out my heart and end this all. End the pain, end the memories, end the…

silence. 

It was then when everything made sense.

We live our life in fear, running from what could over take us, fighting to get to… what? Death.We lose siblings and loved ones to death, and yet we as a nation fight over paper, oil, and control. We fight till we kill the very ones we love, and though we do mourn and take grace to what we for that moment, once the moment has passed, our lives are still lived in the fear of losing paper, oil, and control. How many nights did I spend fearing the day whence fear is impossible, dreading every moment as it brought me closer to that fated day. Yet what did I do in those moments? Nothing. I let my life pass on by, for fear had me so tightly by my throat, I was unable to even see straight. But now…Now I am fear itself. Now I embody the very thing I worked so hard and long to avoid. That very thing has joined me as one. And now here I stand, living for the very first time. In death. My need for paper, oil and control has dissipated. This was my world and my time, and now I am taking it back.