Sometimes I feel like I spend my life pretending to be unafraid.
Fear has always plagued me. I don’t know if it treats everyone this way, but I feel like it accompanies me everywhere. On a happy, joyous night, it lurks in the corners, reminding me these times are fleeting, and could end without warning. On a night when I am weak or vulnerable, it sits down and makes itself at home, sprawling out among the contours of my mind, until I can’t see straight. So I try to pretend it’s mind over matter, a mental game, an opponent I can outwit. But fear is a sly and wily fox, and one noise, one missed call, one bad dream can send me down the spiraling tube of fear.
I don’t know what causes it. Maybe it’s the scares we’ve faced in health and in close calls- cancer, tumors, car accidents. Maybe it’s even in the wake of sickness, when the person is well, and there is room to fear its return. Maybe it’s the pull I feel to fill in the unknown, and the presupposition that unknown is bad.