Writing about common experiences is scary. Letting the world see you, is scary. We fear judgment and ridicule and effort and failure is scary. I teeter between invincibility and immobility and I am still searching to find the answer. I’ve discovered a completely new sort of fear and insanity—what if I have problems that are undiagnosed. Things that are actually wrong with me. I wasted years trying to relinquish responsibility for what I had done. Years of free pity and pain. Seems so long ago now. An impossible amount of time. Scabs and healed wounds. Are they really gone? Am I really better?
I sit quaking with immobility. Emotion fear and fear of ridicule. But there are moments where my path seems fair and open. Where my power is absolute and I unconquerable. Now I fear the cycle itself. Knowing that my power is fleeting and that the fear will soon overtake me. Should I not remember equally that the power will return too? They appear equal and opposite.
Purpose. Purpose gives me power. Power to conquer.
There are sinners and saints in all of us.
Fear keeps us selfish. Hope makes us bold. The best of us find weakness and pain in others. The last thing to really effect. That cruelty makes us frightened and it makes us hide. Hide from the world, but mostly to hide from ourselves. The one thing we hate more, fear more than anything is ourselves. We lash out at in the world what we see inwardly, what we fear the world will see too. We attack it, we openly hate it. There is it, we think. There’s the thing that makes me weak, what makes me ball up in guilt and pain and shame.
There’s that weakness and insecurity. Kill it. Kill it when you see it.
Anything to shake that weakness from you. Liars always think they’re being lied to. Thieves always think they’re being stolen from. Their internal ugliness is the most common ugliness in the world to that one person.
Whoever you are.