Fear Fear, such a dear isn’t it? Scorching your heart in a ghoulish demeanor, pushing your potentials backward, creating a veil in your heart, a dark veil of horror and trepidation, such abominable despair, that you shut your eyes in anguish. You want to break free from the barriers of that dreary distress, but you drown yourself, to the point of no return.

You walk along the path, they stare at you, or at least you think they do. They look you with their vexatious eyes, creating a hole in your mind, making you confined within your limits.

Fear and anxiety, oh the trouble! The luscious atrocious fatality in your life, making you a gauche creature, devouring up your innards. You want to get rid of it, but can you really? Isn’t fear the most primal and inevitable part of us? Isn’t life full of fears and anxieties? Isn’t it?

Your arrival in this world is celebrated with the utmost festivity, but what do they celebrate actually? Your arrival to the valley of dead? The fear of the reaper, the darkness embracing you? Seems like they just do that!

Fear of the gorging stares! Fear of the building stairs! Fear of the devouring dares! Fear of the oblivion! Fear of whatnot! You live through so many fears that you, my dear, become one yourself. Why perhaps you would ask me?

Are fears the ones that overcome us, or is it just a pseudo-psychedelic state of motion created by us? Some fear about this, some fear about that. But the fear is the same, creating a whirlwind of emotions and vibrations in our nonbearing mind, our virginal state of delusions.

You adhere to the smearing fear that rings in your ear, highlighting your vulnerabilities, making you faded to the dust, eating your lumps away?

What if the fear within yourself is the fear created by you? What if it is a metaphysical storm that makes your feelings and bonds impenetrable? A storm that you have to go through in order to keep yourself stable, a storm so strong that with a contradiction it can turn your perforated heart into a healthy one? Again, what if the storm necessarily isn’t a prerequisite for a budding, tolerating life? What if you are the one creating the disaster within yourselves?

With your fear and anxiety, the world seems like a maze, pushing you to the same unknown again and again, to make you lose yourself, to make you feel that sharp tingling pain in your chest, a pain so severe that tears roll from your dry eyes, making them drier. It feels like that you are in a force conducted by the Lord of Trepidations, it feels as if he squished your heart so hard that blood squirted from it.

Your fear is like a classical music montage, creating a sorrowful atmosphere with all accordingly when suddenly it begins to ring loudly, making you realize that it had never been such sorrow, after all, it had been the enigma, coming after you just as it promised it would.

You already know the inevitable, you know that they will chase you to the dark, that they will consume you slowly yet pacing, that you have no escape from them. So you jot down the stunts, gather the last piece of courage within you and face it. You embrace the point of no return. Because what else can you do really?