the philosophy of fear.

sitting alone on

a red linen couch.

the crackling crunch of a

dim T.V. 

beaming up at me.

pitter patter

pitter patter,

the scurrying noise of 

familiartiy.

a desolate, despairing disposition.

i love it. 

i am well acquainted

with this situation,

in a state where all 

responsibilites are 

history. 

in a state where i 

do not have to provide, 

satisfy, or contribute. 

i am content. 

until, 

the floor begins to rumble,

the T.V. starts to rock back and forth

and the red linen couch begins to shudder. 

the deep crescendo gradually amplifies its 

tempo and dynamics as

the walls start frantically whirling,

the cabinets start to convolute

creating a centrifugal warzone.

the orchestra is in full swing,

sweat dripping off of the conducter's baton 

until, 

i am standing there.

dozens of indifferent eyes

staring mundanely up at me. 

how will i satisfy the expectations 

that i have innately set for myself?

will the amount of preparation

and effort be substantial? or will

it all just go to waste?

sweat, anxiety, panic, distress.

i flush all of those mindsets 

down. 

i cannot dissapoint myself. 

i take a deep breath,

look at my notes,

and begin my seven minute 

presentation about

a skin related disease

to my fifth period biology class.