I can’t stand next to brick walls. I have this brainless fear of a brick making its way out of the wall and falling onto my head. I recognize the cement, I see all the faults in my rationale, but I am so sure that some day one of those bricks will fall out, and that'll be it for me.

Death by brick.

I'm not scared of much else. I'm not scared of authority, I'm not scared of my parents, I'm not scared of people leaving and I'm definitely not scared of the future. Before all this brick nonsense, I pondered briefly that maybe, I don't have it in me to be scared. Maybe I was born without the part of the brain that feels fear. In that moment, I was invincible. I don't quite remember where I was, but I do recall becoming very aware. I looked at all the people around me, thinking about what each one of them feared: monsters, the dark, bugs, death.

I was better than them, I was better than all of them because I was deaf to it.

The next day I sat down next to a girl in the school library and whispered, "Hey what scares you the most? I'm required to ask for this project I have." That was honest bullsh*t, but she didn't notice. She just looked at me with this sad smile and proceeded to tell me her whole entire life story. She was scared of liars because her mother lied to her when she was 10 or something and said she'd never divorce her father but then she did. She went on to tell me about how awful it actually is and how having two Christmases would never make up for it.

I think I stopped listening around there.

Started thinking about my mom and how she told me this morning my room was a mess. Thought about how she would probably yell at me when she gets home. What she doesn't understand is my room is my brain, and when I feel functional, I'll clean it, but right now, my mind is everywhere so I'd feel wrong if my belongings weren't everywhere as well. I also don't spend much time in my room which is in parallel to the fact I distract myself with my friends because if I don't, I'll dwell too far into my brain and dig up some stuff that'll bring me back into a depression. Hence why I sit sulking in the dark of my room when I'm home.

I think a lot can be told through...

"You know?"

Oh God, she was still talking to me. "No, I don't know." I left after that.

I didn't want to see the repercussions of my insensitivity.

I wasn't scared of it; I was just too lazy to deal with it.

The next day I got lunch at this diner. I sat at the bar where a cheery old man was sitting. I'm not really good at estimating age, but I could tell he was somewhere close to the end. I started wondering if he was scared of dying and all, like if he sits around and dwells on the fact that he could die at any moment.

"Sir, I was just wondering, does anything scare you?"

He started laughing and said, "Just about everything scares me nowadays."

I started laughing too, but what he didn't realize was that I was mocking him. I felt bad for him and all, like how awful is it to be scared of everything? But this old guy needed to buck up. Life isn't easy, and you'd think he'd have learned that by now.

"Why does everything scare you?"

He kept smiling but something about his aura seemed to darken.

"I don't want you to think I'm whining son because I'm not. I am very appreciative of all God has given me, but God did not just give me this good life I have now. I had to see the devil. I had to stare him straight in the face and beat him. There isn't much I can think of that is worse than war. I felt like an animal, living to kill. War itself has stuck with me my whole life. My doctor tells me it is PTSD. The smallest things set me off. I see myself in war. I feel like I am there more than I was when I was actually there. I believe that is the devil. He is a sore loser. He sees I still walk in the light of God despite having seen some of the worst things. I have beaten the devil, but I will always live scared of war."

I felt disgusting. I felt like the devil himself. I had put myself on a higher pedestal than this man just because I was not scared of anything. I was a coward sitting in front of this man. I had seen nothing and have no right to think I am better than anyone else. I am an awful human being.

"You're a strong guy, you know that? Let me buy your lunch."

I reached over, grabbed his check and paid the bill. I didn't even buy myself anything, and I couldn't now. I felt nauseated.

I walked out in a hurry, considering how I could ever redeem myself from this downfall. I was hurrying home just wanting to be in my room and debate what a terrible human I am. I started jogging through the neighborhood near mine. There was a lot of construction, but I didn't have time to admire the work like I usually do. All I did was bask in this disgusting image of myself. Tears started blurring my vision. I ran into something, being so distraught by my crying. I just couldn't fathom how I'd been so wrong.

I looked up see where I was, and then it hit me.

Disclaimer: This is a work of fiction. All resemblance to actual people, places, things, or incidents is purely coincidental.