When I escaped from my mother’s womb I cried not because I was taken out of my comfort zone but for the fear of what the world holds for me.
I grew up competing with others not necessarily because I wanted to win but because of the fear of failure.
I did as I was told not as I wanted for the fear of being a disappointment.
I wanted to speak out more but I feared the world wasn’t listening. Then in a split second silence seems a suitable action but for the fear of being misunderstood.
Even those that believe everything in life is predestined still look both ways before crossing the road for the fear of being wrong.
Sometimes I wonder if fear is real or just a concept instilled by our sub-conscience to checkmate us.
Deep inside I wanted to believe that fear in times of battle is rather an exhibition of wisdom not an act of cowardice but then again I fear that might be the fear in me trying to justify my fears.
I fear there is so much I could accomplish on the fast lane but for the fear of dying fast.
Amidst all these fears of uncertainties, I still go to bed when I fear it might be my last. I still wake up even when I fear what the day holds for me. So I have come to fear that there is a slight possibility that I might have nothing to fear.