Dear Fear,

I know I’ve got a lot to say but I don’t. But, nervously, cautiously, I will sit down and join you and find the time and the conviction to say what I want to say, what I’ve been wanting to say for so long but don’t. Because, of course, I’m afraid.

I’m afraid of not having enough time. Fearing death is ridiculous. It’s the fear of the bee before it stings. Not the sting itself. That is a small matter of little importance. The sting will come. And it will be dealt with. But it’s the fear of the sting to come, long before it comes, that is worse and far more wasted. The fear, so you understand, is not the sting itself, but waiting for the sting. Death is nothing to be afraid of. I’m afraid of not having enough time. I’m afraid of missing chances and joy. I’m afraid of omission. I fear what I won’t do. I fear what I will not have done. There is too much in life to do and too much in life, too, to miss.

But still, that all comes to nothing and I’m sure you’ve heard it before. Dear Fear who lives inside me. You must know what I fear the most even if I can’t say it. Even if you make it so that I can’t say it. But I see, yes, that it will be useful for me to try to say it. I’m afraid of not being myself, of never being myself, of never, never becoming. It’s still the fear of omission then, but omission of, well, myself.

If I hide, if I fake, if I pretend, when I am rejected, when I am exiled, when I am cast out, they will be rejecting not me, then; they will be rejecting a disguise, a mask, a fiction. But I will be safe. But how could I be safe? How could I be saved? How could I stay intact just so that I could pretend more, just so that I could maintain the fiction more, just so that I could hide more?

I’m afraid of revealing, of laying myself bare, of standing naked. For if I am rejected then, it will be only me – exactly as I am – it will be only me that bears that rejection. Yes. I understand the problem. It’s a big problem. If I am never me, if I am always hiding behind the mask, so long as I continue to be afraid, I will never be accepted either, I will never be let in.

And if I am to be rejected, or accepted for that matter, I should do it as myself. To become me, to realize me, to be, just to be, I have to leave you fear, get out from under you, escape, so that I can, if I can, so that I can learn to be.

I told you it was hard to say. It’s in the saying that reveals me. And I’m out of habit.

I’m afraid of laying it all bare. I’m afraid of the honesty, the light of day, the risk. I’m afraid of what the truth will do. But I get it, I do. Fear is another poison. So long as I hide myself, so long as I keep the disguises, so long as I hold back, I also hold back trust and love. And holding back trust and love I keep it from myself too.

I’m afraid of not being noticed, of not being seen. I’m afraid of being invisible. Which is funny because I’m also afraid of being seen, of being found out. I’m afraid of not realizing myself, my life, my energy, my potential. But of course I can’t, of course I won’t, of course I couldn’t, so long as I’m afraid of being honest and true and naked and me.

And now I’m afraid I couldn’t possibly get myself out of this. I’m afraid I couldn’t possibly sort this out. I’ve locked myself out of me. No lovers, no guests, no housecleaning, even. Do not disturb. If I could send you away, dear Fear, if I could shake you just for a moment, I would let myself in, I would face me, and give myself a shake and say:

What are you so afraid of? Screw fear. Put it out there. Put it on the line. Take a risk. If you don’t yet know who you are, figure it out. Or at least try. Death is nothing. Rejection is nothing. Don’t reject yourself in advance. Dear fear, you have to go away. We live just this short while, and I can’t keep your wretched company any longer. Stop wasting my time.

Meanwhile, of course, still the mask. I am not unaware.

SS