there is something about not knowing what you’re getting yourself into that resonates a feeling of fear and a longing for wonderment. to be honest, not really knowing what you’re getting into has the benefits of, well… not knowing. wondering around blind in a maze with your hands stretched as far out as they can go, feeling for the next corner. i think i have become accustom to walking blind, or at least fooling myself into doing it. it is the fear part that has really become something real as of late.
the fear of not knowing how. not understanding what it’s going to take. the fear of not having the drive or the passion. the fear of something new. uncomfortable. alone. the fear of moving ahead. how do i start? who do i talk to? what if they reject me? what the hell am i doing all of this for?! i have started to rack my brain for the plausibility of a dream. and at the moment the candle is dim and the wind is high.
there is always that dose of anxiety before you jump… i think that’s where i am right now. it’s that burning sensation in the middle of your chest. the gulp lodged in your throat. your clinched fist… because you know the next step is a jump and there is no looking back.