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I’m afraid of loosing myself. ~°

I’m afraid to forget these days when I am real, honest, opened to the world and to everything that this world offers to me.I’m afraid, I can stop dreaming to be drowned in the routine and nonsense, so-called adult life.

I’m afraid I will look at people and feelings as an auction lot with determined price. I’m afraid I can lose everything that I live for – feelings, emotions, art of living.

I’m afraid to stop smiling and go along the street with the stony motionless mask on my face.

I’m afraid I can lose the fire in my eyes. That fire that inspires me to work, write, love, fly above the greyness of life. I’m afraid I will forget the faces and names of those people, who gave me something kind and pleasant. Their eyes, hands, words. 

I’m afraid I will never feel pain, love, joy, inspiration because I know that I’m getting wiser, careful, colder and more cynical every new day.

I’m afraid of learning from my mistakes. This is the way to become impatient and indifferent. I’m afraid I can lose something slim and light that I have – my tenderness and become cynical about everything.

I’m afraid of loosing "myself".

Of course, the new faces, new names will come: new sorry, hello and forgive.They can be better. But, I’m afraid the fire in my eyes will never be the same, turning into the blinking light and no one can read the truth from the beating of my heart.

Of course, I will miss myself  me   who is real.


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