Barely anything

Sometimes my desires scare me. I have never really been scared of silence but I am afraid of the fear of silence. I am scared about not wanting space, freedom and choices. I am scared of regret, of guilt, of screwing up. Most of all, I fear wanting to go back. I haven’t gone there yet. Because I am scared of wanting to come back. I am scared of not knowing myself enough to leave home and live alone. What if I hate my own prolonged company? What if I start craving for the company of others’? What if I cannot deal with the silence in my home? What if I start craving for familiar noise? The TV, footsteps on the stairs, the sound of the gates being opened and closed, the doorbell, the smell, the warmth, the cold, the things I never noticed before- walls, the color of my bathroom window, the dust on the ceiling, the carvings on the door, the Sunday morning dosas, the quiet evenings of days I stay back home, the desire to leave home and run?


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