What Then?

I’m scared. Scared that without an omen or a sign, the skies would transform into a ferocious storm that would mercilessly destroy everything that makes me who I am. I fear that the storm would shred me off my strength and that it would cause complete annihilation, devastating, dilapidating the path beyond repair. What then?

 

I’m still scared that I might be too blind to see the winds gaining speed and the foam on the waves. If I were to be unprepared for the storm, then when the storm pulls in, I’d fall too hard to pick myself up. Let say, that I had an ounce of strength to look up and around, but when I look around trying to see beyond the devastation, what if everything that makes me who I am was shattered into tiny smithereens? What then?

 

Maybe to console myself, I tell myself that I’m not meant to read the signs and that all happens for the best. I repeatedly remind myself that when the door slams shut on my face, God would open windows for me. I also try to find beauty and happiness in simple things but then I relapse into the fear of the storm that maybe impending.

 Maybe it’s perfectly normal and maybe there is nothing out of the ordinary about dreading what is around the corner. Deal with it, I tell myself, because I’m completely and absolutely helpless with fate.