I feel myself growing more distant from myself, as if I were slipping away into a haze of forgetfulness and loss. I feel myself growing older with each passing day, the tatters of my energetic and eclectic youth becoming more dream-like and less real. The pressures of being a responcible adult threaten to crush me into the dirt. I mourn for what I have lost, though it is intangible and beyond my explaination.
It is as though I am a small paper boat, lost in the deep and dark ocean. I have always been afraid of the deep ocean. It is a combination of a fear of heights and claustrophobia - you are surrounded by oppresive murky blue, with no escape, and below you stretches impossible distance. No matter how hard you try, you cannot see what lies beyond the haze of salt, but you know, you know in your bones that there are monsters there. You cannot see them, you cannot know them, but you feel them watching you, hunting you. I am frightened by many things, but deep ocean is one of the worst.
I can recite many poems that I have commited to memory, mostly hopelessly romantic sonnets or wonderfully crafted odes ("She walks in beauty" by Byron and various sonnets by Shakespear are some of my favourites), but all of these have taken me many readings and much practice to store away. There is a line from a poem I read when I was a young girl - I cannot remember the author, or even the title (although it may have been, "She Considers Evading Him") - which has stuck by me ever since I read it. Just one line, that has moved me so deeply that it resonates with my bones. I shall never forget it.
"Oh hold me, for I am afraid."