Why am I so afraid of love, life liberty and pursuit of happiness? Pity I can’t go and buy a pound of life in the shop. Get a pint of milk, loaf of bread and a pound of life, trouble is I’d probably only ask for a quarter of life, too afraid to buy a whole pound,
Have I always been so afraid of life?
It’s that slow burning internal fear that’s always there, that occasionally flairs up to a full roaring volcano.
I’m so still pulled back to the past, it’s like one of those harnesses you see on toddlers, but mine is made of backwards elastic.
I can go forward a little bit; if I strain forwards too much then I get yanked backwards so fast.
It’s all about guilt, how can I be so guilty of things done to me?
It’s like I’m afraid other people will find out about me, yet what’s so awful about that. How can the actions of one old man, so, so long ago,create such internal fear for my whole life?
Watched the BBC 2 programme sins of our fathers last night about the boarding schools run by the Benedictine order. It’s always the same, the top dogs are sorry, but they can’t explain how it wasn’t stopped or passed to the authorities.