In the duration of a week or maybe even longer, I fell short of myself, without even blinking an eye. I could do the lab, quick-write, I complete the readings even though I stay up until four. I'm there for class yet I lose my resolve during the night and act surprised when I've shaved off ten points from a quiz, or I contaminate my own DNA for a lab. I lose my resolve somehow, and somewhere under my skin I know I'm scared. I either cannot find it even though I can admit it(sometimes) I don't mean it when I say it. I can't.

I overcame my anxiety, I repeat it as it is what I'm most proud of--beating my tormentor. It seems in my battles I let a weakness slip through the cracks. Even though my life seems normal, now I still find relics of my past in my closet, my bulletin board, postage stamps. Things of my past, dead things, that I never sought to pursue— The worst regret I could have because it is my mistakes that lead up to my present, my life as it is now. I can't hate my mistakes they make me too. The deepest regret goes to what I didn't do, it haunts me. I can't exist as the person, avoiding what scares me. What scares me?

I notice a pattern of cutting off the source before I seek the why before damage is done. I can't fully feel the greatness of what I'm experiencing if I'm looking back. I can't see how bright the Florida sun is, or the brazen salt of the gulf ocean is if all I can see is my past. I got scared.

Jennifer my best friend, we had sought solace in each other, we were separated, idealizing each other as beacons of hope. We were our solace to wait out the storm yet we got better, which we never expected.

Civil Air Patrol will always be what dissolved my anxiety enough for me to pass through the gates. It was an exposure to airplanes, volunteer work, and order. Any more attempts to describe this organization wouldn't give it what it deserves. I always wanted to do more and was afraid of my absolute greatness that could not rise any higher yet that would still be low for my expectations. I admired Honor Guard. I wanted to celebrate the dead and give them honor. I was a sucker for drill and ceremony. I saw the beauty, the poetry in it, yet I sucked at marching. I made myself not want the things I desired. It is embarrassing to describe it as a fire but it is what I felt a burning fire like an acid was my desire for such things.

One time I volunteered to draw a portrait of her dead brother with Jesus as a Christmas present for her mother, maybe even for herself. She sent me pictures. I gave her a time. I'd be finished. I finished a couple of sketches. I couldn't make them more than sketches, my hands trembled over the lines of his face, the lines coming from my hands and I couldn't do it anymore. So I didn't. I closed my sketchbook, and I never spoke to her again. I wanted to draw this boy so bad. I close my eyes and I still see him sometimes. But I was scared I wouldn't be able to capture his likeness. Even though it wouldn't be enough to subside her pain, I was scared it wouldn't be enough. I was scared to mess up before I tried and even now I desperately wished I had messed up. Some people risk falling too short yet some people don't fall enough. How can I be doing both at the same time?

I reveal my fear now as it is revealed to me. It was my fear of inadequacy that made me give up. It was my fear of inadequacy that made me inadequate. I give up on everything before it hurts. I give up on relationships before I get too invested. I give up before people give up on me. I give up on opportunities before they come my way. I don't feel sorry for myself; it is the facts.

I used college as an escape before I could be disappointed. I still believe something good can't possibly last. I stopped attending CAP meetings— I wore to attend because I knew I'd be leaving soon. I should've made plans transfer but instead, I left before saying goodbye because I knew it was over. I stopped writing letters less and less even as I received them daily until it stopped when I went to college. I didn't have stamps. I was scared we'd grow up and lose time for each other and we did.

Life is good because it is normal even with sad whims of my past that cannot be smothered. But because life is good, I love indulging like I am, it cannot persist like this for long, it is scary. Especially since it is my fear that truly ruins things. I strive for the better amidst botched exams, questions answered wrong. I get scared by my potential inadequacy which is fabricated while my reality exists as for how I fool myself into not realizing I'm settling for a version of myself that isn't doing the best I can be. I cannot be the best I can be allowing foreboding hesitation to persist or allowing my burning spirit to recede in a debt of foggy oblivion.