Fear

The desk, spilled with traces of the mind- a half-drunk-from cup, an A-4 size sheet with something scribbled in blue. A pen with its cover missing, a mobile phone, the mouse-pad with stains and a mouse that doesn't scroll. Someone else's desk never feels like your own. But you're forced to borrow it for the morning because your own computer is broken down. Like our government, the system keeps breaking down too, threatening to erase all my work saved in its memory. What have I to lose from losing that memory? They just about few short stories, poetry scribbled as vent, some assignments and recos written for colleagues as favours and some photographs taken in the studio, where I appear remotely like Yono. What have I to lose, but fragments. And yet, this fear of losing!
Why is there so much fear in us humans of losing. From losing your former lover's attention to losing the one you currently love. From losing your job to losing possibilities for a raise...so much fear for everyday.
My fears are often mingled with my inability to write. It frightens the life out of me to think I might never write anything sensible. But most of all, it frightens me to think I will not be able to write poetry. For, poetry is synonymous to you.