When I think of the future I imagine this great big hulking bridge. Kind of like the Golden Gate bridge, that I'm standing at the base of on one side. Except that it grows larger and more menacing the further along it you look. Until it's towering over my entire life, threatening to crush me. I feel intimidated by the future. Scared because I am so frightened of the idea of living my life, the way it is, for another fifty or more years. That right now might be the best it'll ever be, which isn't even saying much, and it will just be a slow and terrible decline into squalor and poverty and obscurity. That I'll let everyone I know and love down, disappoint them all, before they too drift from my life. I'm scared I'll never have the courage to fight for a better life, nor the courage to just end it. Just fated to live a long and cowardly and pathetic life.
I'm so scared my whole life will have been for nothing, and I'll have suffered a lifetime for no reason at all.
I'm just as scared that sometime between now and the end, I'll just stop caring. And just be okay with it all. And not be afraid any more. Isn't it sad that as scared as I am of living a meaningless and useless and pathetic and difficult life, I am even more scared that it will be all those things and I would be okay with it.
Being afraid is the last shred of hope that I have left.
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