Fear 9/21/13

Fear kept me from writing for a long time. I am still afraid. What if he finds me? What if he uses this against me? What if the kids one day find this, and are offended I kept so much from them? Fear is wearing on me. It rubs against me, rubs me out, erases me. Fear is defining me, ghosting me. He is still defining me. How happy he would be, how self-righteous he would feel, how justified. I am afraid to admit my fear. I want to dismiss it. I want to recite statistics on how many others feel as I feel, how many others there are like me, with the same experiences. Those others who are fine, safe, well. I want to remind myself that less than ten percent of fears ever materialize. But when do you relax your vigilance? When do you finally realize you are safe? Isn’t that how you err? Through confidence? Doesn’t fear keep you sharp, aware, safe? If you are not running, are you not then still enough for focus, and thus, a target?


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