I don’t often watch the news. For years I’ve found it depressing, everyday is another tale of death, murder and sadness. Sometimes I’d rather stay wrapped up in my blanket of invisibility and naivety and forget the world is currently embroiled in such constant devastation.
Friday night however, it couldn’t be escaped. I watched it and it upset me. I cried. I’ve shed many a tear all day. I’m no longer de-sensitised. I’m scared.
I’m scared for the places I may never get to see, because it’s too dangerous.
I’m scared for the people I may never get to meet because they’re not permitted to enter our great Isle.
I’m scared that I’ll leave the house one day and not come home.
I’m scared that the carefree attitude I once had, will be marred by a future full of anxiety.
I’m scared that the only future I can see is bleak and smeared by terror, suffering and heartache.
I’m scared that the people we rely on to make positive change, only have one narrow vision.
Mostly, I’m scared that I may never get to hold your tiny hand. I may never hear your first words, or see your first steps. I may never see the joy on your face as you discover things for the first time. I’m scared I’ll never get to see you grow up, learn, achieve, develop and love.
How can I bring you into this world, knowing that ultimately, I’m completely powerless to protect you.
I’m scared that your existence will only ever be in my dreams and my imagination.