I am a nest of irrational fears. I am afraid of windows and of cars. I am afraid of strangers and terrified of gatherings of more than a few people. I am afraid of cars and also of most change. I am claustrophobic and also, most recently, have grown horribly fearful of a bridge near my home.
Some of these I respect, such as the claustrophobia that dates back to infancy. However, with the world in which we live, who would ever be able to evade every fear? Perhaps that is good for us, but surely every fear is created for a reason. I do not like the bridge, I've nearly tumbled into the road twice now, but I have to bike across it daily.
Perhaps this is good. What good can possibly come of a life of fear?
Is it fitting that I should look to a poem written by a famous hermit? One who decidedly would not set foot outside. Oh, the heroes and models I aspire to become.
Afraid! Of whom am I afraid?
Not Death - for who is He?
The Porter of my Father's Lodge
As much abasheth me!
Of Life? 'Twere odd I fear a thing
That comprehendeth me
In one or two existences -
Just as the case may be -
Of Resurrection? Is the East
Afraid to trust the Morn
With her fastidious forehead?
As soon impeach my Crown!
-Emily Dickinson
1 comment:
Fear is odd, isn't it. My fears fluxuate, depending on time of day, how bright it is, and who is around.
The dark and her contents leave me shaking.
Being forgotten is forever on my mind, a nagging in the back of my brain.
Never finding love, or experiencing any sort of emotional connection with another human plagues me as well. [I know, tis terrible I'm ruled by emotions. Even the most hateful Slytherins succum to said evil feelings.]
I've other fears as well, like the fear that someone's put meat in my food, and my fear to drink milk until after someone else has tasted it. But they seem so trivial.
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