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Thursday, January 7, 2016

Small and Scared

#7

I won't die tomorrow. I won't, I won't, I won't.
It's 1 a.m., and my brain is cooking up a thousand ways in which I might. Between going to bed and falling asleep, I have vicariously lived through car crashes, natural disasters, blazing buildings, jilted lovers, fallen flower-pots and masked strangers. I have lain paralyzed as all the grenades and rifles and handguns in the world are pointed at me from somewhere between my eyelids and my mind.
But I won't die tomorrow, because all this is in my head, and I can make a difference in the lives of those for whom all this is real. Yes, the world is dangerous. Yes, saying no a to man is (should not be, but is) asking for rape and violent disfigurement and death. But I will step out, I will live.
I am human. My life is precious. I have too much to live for. So I will. Live, that is. I still don't think I can sleep -- of all those scenarios, the one I fear the most is dying in my sleep; dying without knowing. Another is dying from sickness, as my body and mind fade away.
I have decided that if I die, I want it to be clean and quick; and, if possible, painless.
But I say that only because dying is a possibility. I don't want to die. No way. Not right now, anyway.

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