Fear is irrational.

Fear is irrational.

I know this because, when it is away,
I can take steady breaths, and be an
anchor for myself–keep calm–whilst
preparing for the storm that threatens to
shake the only ground I know to stand on.
Survive.
Like I was created and evolved to do.

It is irrational, because, although I am of
sound mind, it becomes terribly hard to
fathom anything other than the poisonous
nectar spreading throughout my chest
from the seed planted in my gut
all those years ago.
Something that’s inside and outside of me,
all at once.
Surrounding me, as I overflow of it.

It is irrational, because, once it’s there,
I forget how to be.
Anything.
Everything I am becomes a technicality,
something that needs a handbook.
I forget that I am so much more than
what it has reduced me to.
I forget that I do not need to justify myself
for facing it.

It is irrational, because, whilst I have the care
to not wish myself dead,
in moments when it ensnares me,
death doesn’t sound so bad,
because it seems like a means to an end.
No more failing to escape it.

It is irrational, because, although I know
that what I’m facing has been faced before,
is being faced as I speak,
and will be faced long after I am gone,
I still feel like the only one.

Fear is irrational, because, when feeling it
we so often believe that we are alone,
and that we are incapable.

This is not true.
Please have the courage to remember that.

 

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