i exist in a constant state of low-grade panic, convinced that everyone is watching me, judging me, waiting for me to say the wrong thing, to choose the wrong allegiance, to wear the wrong belief on my sleeve at the wrong moment — you see, i believe in peace, deeply, desperately, because i am terrified of violence, not because i think people are good, because i know they are not, and that is why i tremble at the thought of conflict, at the idea of confrontation, at the sound of shouting, because i know what people are capable of, and i want no part of it, but still, i lock my doors, triple-check the windows, sleep with one eye open, because pacifism feels noble in theory but naive in practice, and i am nothing if not practical when survival is at stake — my worldview is a patchwork quilt stitched together from whatever ideology offers the most comfort or protection at any given moment, and so i speak in the language of the cosmopolitan citizen of the world, dreaming of open borders and universal compassion, while secretly wishing for high fences and private exits, because i trust humanity in the abstract but fear the very real humans i pass on the street — religion, for me, is less about faith and more about function, so i wear hinduism like a shawl in the morning, islam like a cloak at noon, christian orthodoxy like a shield, catholicism like a confession, protestantism like a quiet rebellion, all depending on who is nearby, who is listening, who might offer protection, and who might pose a threat.