Predictions

I don’t want to label it,
A self full-filling prophecy,
Those times when you just,
“Know,”
Something is going to happen.
Because I believe that we “just know,”
Things are going to happen all the time.
Then on the off chance,
What we worried about,
Does happen,
We tell ourselves,
“I knew it!”
And use that as an excuse,
Not to be brave,
Or adventurous,
Or to just live sometimes.
We shut down ourselves,
Out of fear that we might be,
Just like Nostradamus,
Able to see into the future.
And then every single worry,
Transforms us more and more,
Into a hermit crab,
Wrapping a shell of past prophecies,
Around us ever tighter,
Until we find ourselves,
At home in our discomfort.
When we are young,
Those fears,
Those false psychic powers,
Those visions of future calamity,
That rest at the borders of our imagination,
Have not yet proven themselves,
Occasionally right.
So we live without fear,
So much that we actually take the time to live,
Not simply use our time to stay alive.
Not that risks.
Are the things that prove to a person.
That life is happening around them.
But my opinion is.
That avoiding the opportunity.
To say yes.
To the things that worry you the most.
Is the same as giving up your freedom.
Because you had an errant thought.
That slavery might be pretty fun.
And,
Despite the glaring differences,
Between worry,
And oppression,
When a person lets worry,
Take over what could have been,
A life worth living,
Because they chose to believe,
That a few bad days,
Gave them the power to predict,
Each of their own minor tragedies,
Then they are,
Effectively,
Giving up their freedom,
To enjoy themselves.