No One Lives In Fear, But We All Exist In It

September 17, 2014 3:54 PM

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As I flipped through three of the 20 diaries I had filled over the past decade, I began to feel a bit sorry for myself. Not in that "woe is me" kind of way, but more in that "Whoa, is this me?" kind. There, reduced to a few hundred pages, were a couple of decades worth of triumphs, disasters, and unremarkable men so remarkably similar that it left me wondering if, perhaps might reveal a biological connection. There were some fantastic career highlights, but the pages were mostly filled with some kind of pleading on my part. More specifically, begging myself to make a move -- to the new state, towards my goals, on with my life, away from those habits and people who put the pain on repeat. There were the loud exclamation points and the long-winded sentences that never gave way to a definitive period. Flipping through the pages, it was clear that what should have taken a few hours took weeks. What was lost in months took years to let go of. There were some incredibly happy moments, but the underlying theme in each chapter of my life was one big F-word.

Quite frankly, the pages dripped with anxious trepidation and looking back, I am met with a strange image of myself scribbling ferociously in a thick silence. Opening these pages today brings about a deafening scream; I want this, but I am afraid. And I was. Of everything. Of speaking my mind, of ta...

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