Fear

Passage voiced by the narrator of my manuscript:

 

Fear. He’s scared, she’s scared, we are all scared. Reasons. Reasons for fear. He has reasons, she has reasons, we all have reasons. A variety of reasons. Afraid of heights, spiders, and death. But deep down, we know these aren’t our real fears. They are just phobias to label, to blame, the real reason we are so terrified. Accusing smaller factors because we are scared to admit what we really fear.

We fear our reasons.  

Hypnophobia. The fear of falling to sleep, because no matter how hard I try, I can’t. I can’t sleep, but really I’m afraid to. But I know better, I know that I’m blaming an innocent factor. I’m not really afraid of falling asleep. I’m afraid of what sleep means; afraid of the thoughts that it brings to my wandering mind. Sleeping signifies the end, the end of a day. A day I didn’t do something productive; a day I didn’t work on achieving just the slightest bit of knowledge on my reason. A day wasted. I’m afraid. These thoughts flood my body like an ocean of water, the bitterness of its salt choking me. A day wasted. I only have so many days. Days to find my reason, days to accomplish my dreams, days to live, days to make sure my life isn’t wasted. Days to become somebody. That is not the fear of sleep, that is the fear of something else entirely.

Fear is strange, one of the strangest concepts. Sometimes, I wonder if fear makes us believe we are scared of the opposite of what we really are. Like when you’re alone and you are intruded by this overwhelming feeling that someone is watching you. But, what if thats not what you’re afraid really afraid of? You’ve convinced yourself that you are afraid of the imaginary psycho-murder that lives under the stairs, the psycho-murder that only is configured in your ignorant mind when you are alone. You’re not afraid of strangers watching you; you are afraid of being alone. Fear is telling you to be scared, making you believe that someone, some unknown threat, is stalking you. But, I wonder, if that is supposed to be reassuring. The idea of someone watching you is actually supposed to be comforting. Fear telling you you are not alone, since being alone is what you fear.

Afraid of heights is the fear of falling. The fear of falling is the fear of death. The fear of death is the fear of the end. The fear of the end is the fear of leaving before you’ve found your reason, accomplished your dreams. Became somebody. You’re blaming, he’s blaming, she’s blaming… We are all blaming a variety of factors for a fear that controls all. Maybe my mind is just traveling into forbidden places, just following its daily routine and spitting out daunting theories, but I believe when I say: We are all afraid of reasons.     

If I didn’t believe there was a reason, I wouldn’t be afraid. But there is a reason, so fear will always be stalking, hiding behind every corner. But I’ve realized this. I’ve realized this a long time ago. I’ve accepted it. So fear is no longer stalking and hiding. Fear does not need to fear being noticed. From now until forever, fear and I are walking hand in hand.