I’m afraid. I’m afraid of getting lost along the way. I’m scared like a little kid.
What is life? What is its purpose? What should I do next? These are questions that only a certain type of people ask: people who have had a hard life.
And this fear turns into terror, into involuntary self-terror that sometimes grows, amplifies just as the voice of an am who speaks into a microphone to an entire stadium is amplified. Who wouldn’t be in my place.
At the same time, paradoxically, I am not afraid. The other me is not afraid of anything, not even of God. The other me is dark, a black angel, an angel of charm pain and suffering.
When you feel sad look into my eyes and you will smile, and you will feel better, because you will feel understood.