Fear can be a self-fulfilling prophecy. It creeps in along the walls and like a shadow in the night casts disfigured and haunting monsters across the floor. It pretends to be something it is not… pretends to be bigger and darker and worse. And in the darkness sometimes I believe it.

I have learned that things deteriorate quickly when left to fester, unanswered… unchallenged by any kind of light or reason. That “indulgence” on my part has cost me dearly at times. It has cost me more than I am prepared to accept. Yet still its spell has power now and then… usually when I forget that I do too.

Power and responsibility. I should know better. I should be stronger. And wiser. But I curl up and hold on too tight nonetheless to that, which I think I know. Things get distorted when one tries to make perceptions and expectations dictate or shape life around oneself. It is wrong. It is a projection. Not an observation. It is a believable lie… or with a prettier term… wishful thinking.

Fear – nameless and faceless as it may still be to me – is not the enemy. I am. I don't have to do it. I don't have to go along… or be held back. Fear is a choice I make… and one I really should start reconsidering….


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