(Whoo-hoo! 1/4th of the way through these prompts after only two years!)
Um, so. My greatest fear. You know, sometimes I think about this because I've read 1984 a lot. What would my room 101 be? I mean, Winston's rat thing is pretty gnarly (as seen in GoT last season) and all, but I don't wander around constantly fearing rats. Which is a good thing, because I've actually noticed a high influx of them recently in the city. I wonder if the Bro-yotes (they wander about Wrigleyville) have moved to a new area? But yes, what would the thought police use to torture me, to break my spirit and get me to denounce all those I care for? There are always needles, which I hate, but that's half the pre-101 torture ritual, so I'd have to confront those long before I was relegated to my existential doom. So what's left?
Sometimes I think the answer is "love" or "commitment." Have fun with that, Big Brother. I think I have a horrendous fear, not of loving other people so much, but of letting them love me. Which I understand is insane and illogical, as I have a metric fuck-tonne of friends who I objectively know love me (no homo?) But also I'm afraid of being loved; it's great and awesome responsibility, to have people who are willing to open up to you. I joke about dying alone since relationships are (obviously) not my thing, but really I won't; nor do I ever really have to worry about being lonely. I'm grateful for that.
I feel like I'm losing track here. I don't care about this topic that much. I dwell on this stuff enough as it is. -shrug-
Okay that's all today. I'm sad it's not being sunny long enough for me to go to the beach. Goodbye.
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