Who's afraid of the big, bad wolf and who's afraid of paper airplanes? Who's afraid of Sunday afternoons? Who's afraid of poetry, July rain, soft boots, the color red, Beethoven's 5th, spilled milk, haircuts, religion, the touch of a lover, fire, the dark, terrorism, plague, blood, death, apocalypse? Who's afraid? Who's afraid?
Who's afraid of clenched fists? Or snow?
I'm afraid, I'm afraid. I'm afraid of aftershocks, you know? I'm afraid of the afterimage and the aftermath. Epilogues scare me. "Happily every after.... but then..." scares me. I'm afraid of beginnings.
Who's afraid of falling through the cracks? Anyone? Anyone?
I know what you fear: you fear yourself. You fear your own rage. You're afraid that one day you'll wake up and be stripped of your mathematical structure and your way with words, and you're afraid that some naive, blue-eyed girl is finally going to see you for what you really are: sunlight and that's it. You weren't meant to be here, you weren't meant to play mortal with the rest of us. You're sunlight and that's it. You're not afraid of anything. You're sunlight and that's it.
Okay, fess up. You're afraid of something and you know exactly what I'm talking about. You're afraid of your own shadow because you're sunlight (and that's it) but who are you kidding, sunlight doesn't have a shadow and that brings us back to the gasp of the studio audience, it's the big reveal at the end of the episode: "Human, human, human". You're human, and that's it.
I didn't say it was a bad thing.
You fear your own shadow. Your own human heart. You're dying, and that's killing you. It's on the tip of your tongue, and that's killing you. You're only young once, and that's killing you. So you're afraid of death? Who isn't?
I'm afraid of asking question because I'm afraid of getting answers. But, please, I'm afraid but, please, I'm so curious: What do I do with my hands and my lungs? Where should I run? Why can't I fly? Who am I what should I do where is home what's the quadratic formula is there a heaven is there a hell is there a place with no greed no lust no ivory coast and hunger is there a god is this a war is there life after death? I'm yelling but are you listening?: I AM AFRAID. I'm afraid. I'm afraid. (i'm afraid.)
I'm afraid but there's no time or peace; you're so brave that you died of fear.
Who's afraid of my temper? Who's afraid? Who's afraid?
This has been the Devastation Diaries.
