My relationship with Fear has never been casual; a brush in a hallway or a brief and superficial encounter in the midst of my comings and goings.  No, Fear knows my every thought, my every habit, my every weakness.  Long, now, I have been intimate with Fear.
As a child, Fear would visit my room in the depths of the night, unbidden and unwelcome.  Fear lay heavy upon me, crushing my breath, pinning my limbs, shattering my thoughts.
Fear has rode with me as I traveled, squeezing my chest between its mighty arms, making my head spin and my thoughts abandon me.
Fear has sat with me, alone in my home, its whispered lies seducing me, as I lay down before it and try only to remain conscious, crying out to God that, if Death would come, let it be now.
Though I try do disbelieve it, Fear is persistent, insistent, incessant, relentless.  At length, my defenses made weak, its lies win the day, and I believe.


For me it is worthlessness.

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