The trip is getting so close now. It's tuesday night, and I leave saturday.
My mind has repeatedly been pushed and pulled out of a sea of worries.
I find myself fearing that there will be no warmth when I arrive, that people
will be mean to me because I look so much different, and that I act differently.
Fear can place terrible lenses in which to look at the future.
It can terrify you enough to the point that every second the only
seemingly safe thing to do is to cling desperately to the present,
which is constantly blowing out of your grasp like a stack of precious
photographs being swept out by the wind into
the darkness of the omnipresent past.
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