it's all these things we conjure up in our heads, our insecurities and unfounded beliefs. so terrified of being vulnerable that we close off to the best parts of life. the learning, the hard times, the questions worth answering. he knew he did it, knew he worried too much about what other people thought, about the brush the rest of the world painted him with. he wanted so badly to be in control that he forgot what control implied. that perhaps in wanting to grab hold of everything around him, he lost grip of what was within him, at arms reach. people he loved, achievement he desired, perception he craved. none of it was ever really in his control, because none of it had much to do with him. but he kept hoping, punching and grasping in the dark, unaware that the light he needed wasn't out there, it was inside, same as it always was, looking for a way to pour out.