As I get older I am finding that one of my biggest problems and biggest flaws is fear. I’m scared of lots of things. So many things, so many little moments of the day send a chill of dread down my spine. Some fears are much more normal and common, some I think are a bit more unique. One of my fears is that being scared all the time makes me a coward. I suppose it does.
I’m scared of snakes. They are cold and scaley and have dead eyes and hide under rocks and bite you or slither up while you’re asleep and crush you before swallowing you whole.
I’m scared of the ocean. I’m scared tentacles will reach up from the seabed and drag me down effortlessly despite my most violent thrashing and wailing and I’ll be lunch for some giant unseen sea monster. Even if there’s no monster and no tentacles, an ocean current can swish me away from the beach and I’ll be thousands of miles from anyone or anything. Planes and boats get lost at sea. Nobody would ever find me.
I’m scared of the dark. I never used to be, I could happily sleep with the light off from a young age. More specifically, I’m scared of being outside in the dark. Of dark alleyways and slow driving cars, of the biting winds and sadistic, vicious rain. Of people in high windows watching me as I cross the road. People who may or may not be there. Or only there in my imagination.
I’m scared it’s all for nothing. Which is strange because we all know that all our houses and offices and cities and countries and societies will end. Eventually we all die and our planet will be engulfed in cosmic fire and it’ll all be gone and the universe will keep right on trucking without us. That all worries me greatly. Even on much shorter timescales, nobody is really remembered. All the greatest men in history are remember only as sketches of what they did or who they really were. And with every day at goes by the drawing fades and the haze in between us and the truth gets a little thicker and a little more disorientating.