The Self of the Sadist

     I hate not knowing what’s next. It’s the stem of my anxiety, blossoming into countless beautiful irrationalities to the sadist. Someone reigning over the rain I’m left under to wade through the unknown. It’s not the abyss nor the galaxy, it’s the absolute unknown. Someday, I might just collide into another, and then? One day this human descent into annihilation? Who knows, it’s all a piece of the feared unknown.

     I’m trying to grip myself, decapitating the condescending fears. I’m afraid of sharks/tornadoes/the unknown, they had become virtues when their result respected vices.

     In the words of one winged creature to another unbeknown:

if you can hear this, don’t assume…