From the Archives P4

The Fear.

My soles crunch against riverside gravel as I sway up the hill. I breathe heavier than I should, but not because I’m out of shape. I’m scared.

I’m unsure of the contents of what I’m afraid of, but the Fear is tangible and continues to tug at my thoughts. As I turn away from eddied water, my feet begin softly crushing leaves. The steady rhythm soothes me ever so slightly. I stop walking. Suddenly, I become aware of my thoughts and my stomach churns into knots. The Fear is alive within me and it writhes in my guts.

I can’t walk anymore. I don’t know w h y?

Footsteps approaching, my head snaps in its direction. I still can’t move. The Fear is here. Coming. Stopping. Waiting. Racing heart beats pulse everywhere. My feet, my fingertips. And especially where I feel its breath looming. I realize now — I summoned it. Tempted to fight or run because I know I can win or get far away, but something inside me sings, “stay.” Unconscious of my actions, in a panic, I stare up at it and belt, “What are you doing here? Why are you doing this to me?!”

The Fear, at once, sinks to the ground, into a child. Into me. “You finally cared enough to ask,” I say. Altogether my anxiety fades and a kind warmth rushes in. An embrace.