The only things keeping me awake are the freshly brewing pot of coffee and the thought that waking up this early might one day make me more like my father. I couldn't sleep last night, as anxiety and fear led me to conjure up irrational fears of dark shadows moving about the house. Ever since i was a kid my imagination has been my worst enemy when it came to falling asleep. I remember mapping out escape routes from my house, for when it was invaded. The men, dressed in masks, always came through windows. I'd usually have enough time to wake Alan. The men would never see us crouched under the bed or perched on the dresser in the corner of our bedroom. My next objective was the wooden Louisville slugger in the closet and a suicide run down the hallway, just waking my parents in time to escape through their bedroom window.
There is something about windows dangit, that provide the hope for escape yet the terror of prodding eyes, still haunting me in an open space in the dark, where my back is not protected. maybe its a fear of being outnumbered or suddenly trounced by a ninja breaking through the sliding glass door, or maybe its the fear of what i can't see, and the thought that it can see me.
Quite possibly the hardest thing to realize is that my childhood fears have never left me and haunt me every time i ponder my future that i don't know the outcome, and that the outcome already knows me. Maybe that should bring hope, but for now i lay awake at night.
*If life is a forest, our hope should be rain
but i think hope is lost in our fear of flames
