The monster under my bed tells me stories. Tales of his younger years and the one time he fell in love. I tell him how the Yankees are doing and give him the best websites to pirate music from because he doesn't have a job. And if he loves music half as much as I do then I don't consider that a crime. I'll tell him all about the movie I saw and whether it was worth seeing or not.
Sometimes, when it gets really late, like so-late-that-your-facade-and-your-pride-disappears hour at night. Our talks become intimate and sober. He'll tell me the things that make him sad and all he has to hide from other people. I go into detail about my great list of insecurities and my anxiety and even though he can't relate on most of them he gives his whole attention.
And in that moment that gives birth to silence, right when the crickets stop chirping, we talk about our fears. He's worried that one day, he won't be able to scare children like he used to be. That he will never find a spot under a bed big enough to support a family. That one day the bed he stays under might collapse on top of him.
I talk about how I worry I won't be able to get an adequate education, that won't get me an adequate job, that won't give me the adequate funds which won't make me an adequate husband and father and when you equate that I'm an inadequate person. I also want to tell him I'm afraid of having a handicapped child but I don't because I don't know if he would take offense to that. And that scares me.
I continue to tell him how right now I'm an adult but I don't feel any older and I'm worried sick that I might never shed this skin and grow up. I'm scared silly that responsibility won't carry more motivation in the future than it does. I'm fearful to say more, but afraid to stop talking.
I tell him I fear God but not as much as how I fear what will happen if I don't fear God. He says he doesn't know a God, but that just scares him even more.
The future is what we fear. That much we agree on.
Right now all we have to be afraid of is if the Yankees are gonna win.
- Insolence is Bliss