a 30-minute conversation of the self

i have only 30 minutes to pursue the act of blogging as the time has finally come again for me to cross the unknown abyss. i am going to let the words flow out of my head syndicated by fear and anxiety, whispering the mantra and hoping it would save me from damnation. maybe i've yet to learn courage and freedom, as if i have been living in someone else's reverie/living inside a formless physique. there was dream made of cold and old regrets haunting the present in the pretense of safety and assurance. the ice shards of past mistakes have frozen the warm memories of possibility. maybe i've embarked again on an expedition towards self-identity and breaking through, and maybe he has been right all along when he said that caring stops the moment fear has left the heart. And now, fear, it is, must speak for consciousness and devotion. after all, there has nothing been so powerful as such to have made the self whittle away