To be honest, I'm scared. I don't know what I am always afraid of, but it changes each day. Loneliness does not exist in my life, but I fear being alone. I have never missed a meal, but I fear I will starve. Death does not scare me, death is a way out. Life scares me sometimes; not knowing what will happen next, or how to deal with the situation at hand. I love life, but I am at times afraid of love. Does that make sense? I'm afraid that I won't make sense and people will hate my writing. I love to write, but I fear my pen will run dry. I fear God, but I am terrified my fear is not always true. I fear the dark, but enjoy the ignorance of not knowing what it hides.
Is my fear rational? Am I perhaps overreacting to somewhat small matters? Am I not supposed to be pushed forward, rather than paralyzed by fear? I guess in the end, I'm not really all that scared, just too comfortable.
Blake J.
Have you ever created a fear as an excuse for laziness?
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