Fears not welcome here

Fears a loser, a poser a really big hoser! Fear can’t win if we don’t let him in

He’s a big bully but we’re stronger
He attacks us but we hold on longer

Fears a bulldog a big white whale
We have our Faith so fear can go to hell

Fear comes like a behemoth growling loudly as to eat us

Love tames the beast rising within us stirring and calming the storm that rushes

We make no room for fear in our future we see clear

Fear is not welcome here

You were a monster we didn’t speak of unless we had to. For generations you have been lurking & we knew you might attack. The very thought of you for years scared my family & I. We only spoke of you in a hushed tone. Since had you had preyed on so many of us. Then one day you made yourself known to me & at first I was afraid of you. Now though I’m prepared to fight taking my life back. You can effect my vision & cause problems with my eye. Yet I’m still alive with people & places to see as I go. Spreading hope & awareness helping others realize they aren’t alone. Nobody will fear you anymore & you will be defeated Keratoconus!
Style score 100

I’ve always had a fear of never being good enough. Whether it was in love, life, or friendships. I didn’t grow up with a comfortable upbringing, so I never felt good enough to fit in. Once upon a time, I once felt that my honest, quirky self wouldn’t earn approval, preventing me from being myself. I’ve always felt pressured to pretend to be someone I’m not—perhaps more outgoing, perhaps more conventional. I always felt uncomfortable being anything other than my authentic self, maybe because I was born to stand out. Leaving that marriage, where I felt pressured to conform, even though it hurt me to my core, was the first step toward discovering my true self. Once I was on my own again, I could tap into my true potential and create the life I’ve always wanted. I overcame my fear by embracing change and stepping out on faith. I can’t lose by betting on myself! My fear of not being good enough won’t win because I’ve been through worse and still found my way out. I’ve faced setbacks and disappointments that felt crushing, but I learned and grew stronger. My fear won’t win because I now believe in myself, capable of anything I set my mind to. Everything I do from now on will be from my heart, with the kindest, purest intentions! I am enough! A million times enough!

(Style Score: 100)

Dear Heights,

You seem so near and yet so far. I see you all over the world; I look down over a cliff and there you are. I look up at the sky and there you are. I cannot help but think you are always there. You want me in the clouds above so that I can dive into my own vivid dream. You want me to take risks and exceed all expectations. I declare to you this; I will hit new highs and beat the lows. I will not be afraid of a few challenges. I will conquer my troubles, and in doing so, I will be a brave man who resists cowardice like no other. I will be there to do as you say, Heights.

Yours truly,

Michael Delianides

Meeting with Terror

I wake and I wonder
What to do with terrors in the night
Moments of fear that seemed to linger
For years away from the coziness
Of sweet sugar plum dreams.

And I yearn for gentle streams,
Gleaming and sparkling with rays of light.
I know that even darkness holds its place in this life,
No matter how painful, scary, or beautiful it may be.
Perhaps I should offer it a cup of tea?
Cover the room with rose petals and burn incense,
Ask why it has come to be in this space,
Even as this gesture seems out of place—
Maybe this is exactly where it should be?

I ask terror, “Why have you come?
Why does it feel as though my peace has been undone?”
The terror replied in a low tone,
“Peace is not yours to own, nor light, or beauty,
Or even the glittering streams.
In the grand scheme of it all,
The only thing you will hold is change.
You may sit in the sunshine,
But you will be met by the night.
Likewise, you may sit in the moonlight,
But inevitably be greeted by the break of day.

Your peace will come in the understanding
That with heaven, will also come hell.
To find the water, you will have to break down
Below the surface and find a well.
Peace comes in the reverence of chaos,
For holding on too tightly to the idea of stillness,
Will have the slightest breeze
Bring you to your knees.
Wondering why you have become shy
To the idea of moving waters.

So here you have found yourself in a current,
Wondering why peace has gone and I have come.
Maybe, my dear one, you should ask yourself
Why you hold on so tightly to things
You believe to be set in stone,
When even that becomes grains to the wind in the end,
Never truly to be the same again.
Change is the only thing here to stay.
So I return a question to the sender,
In hopes to ignite flames from embers,
And I ask you… Why have you come to me?”

I took a moment to reply.
I sit and I ponder, and again I do wonder,
Not why I’m in this moment here,
Or why peace is not near,
But why I’m caught at the crossroads
Of dark and light, joy and fright, wrong and right.

With each passing hour and each evening shower,
It all passes away to be something new.
Yet here I am caught in a shade of blue,
While life continues on in every hue,
Because this is what I have chosen to hold on to,
Instead of opening my eyes to see.

I live in a disguise of illusions
When I hold on too tightly to it and have been,
When once again, change will come,
Undoing what I believe to be done,
Inviting me into new spaces with love.

As I reflect on the seasons of my life,
I see that it has all brought me here now.
Every high and low, every joy, every tear, and even every fear.
I speak up and look terror in the eye—
I give my reply, “I now understand why we have come to meet,
And while I cannot say it has been the most pleasant greet,
I have been made to realize that life truly is grains of sand,
Slowly passing through our hands, but I can now say,
They have each been my friend.
They were each formed by change, nothing will stay the same forever.
But in this understanding I will grow, and peace will once again show… so I thank you.”

And the terror replied,
“Now I may go.”

Dear Fear,
Why do you insist on your ways within me? You push your way in, crowding my mind, blocking out light and hope. Those old shadows of doubt and darkness I try so hard to push to the recesses of my brain, hidden from the joy I strive to maintain. Your ways are so sneaky and sudden that I can’t even see you creeping in.
You come in so many forms, life, money, children, health, and my future. So often the unknowns of these you use against me quickening my pulse, making me anxiously move about. Looking here and there, planning, preparing, consuming time and energy to overcome the fears of the unknowns. That’s it fear, that is where you get me, where you corner me – the unknowns. How do I conquer you and the way you move? I ask myself.
Then I look up, up towards the sky and I lift my face, and I smile. Joy and peace find their way back into my body, with a calming of my mind. My pulse slows and my anxieties fade away into a place of serenity. Dear God, I say, thank you that I do not need to fear the unknowns because you already know. So, you see fear, this letter to you is goodbye. I ask you again, why do you insist on your ways within me? But now it’s my turn to answer, you can’t, you have no power. The crowding becomes vacant. Light and hope move back in. The shadows of doubt and darkness disappear into confidence and brightness. Goodbye fear, God is here, you can’t sneak in anymore.

Signed,
Fearless

Oh fear,

You’ve been with me for a long time. First things first, let me thank you for the times you’ve saved me- letting my mom know I was hungry, keeping me away from poisonous spiders, dangerous heights, and sketchy situations. You can be a lifesaver… but you and I both know that you can also be a life sucker. In fact, I think it’s high time we had a chat about that.

You’ve held me back many times, even when I know you are often:

False

Evidence

Appearing

Real

And yet, how easily I can believe you to be true. How easily I can surrender my sanity in the face of your mirage. How quickly I can lose my authenticity in the face of your false ferocity. You know how to get under my skin. You know just how to hijack my best intentions.

Despite all this, I’m committed to making you my friend. I will continue to pray and meditate, so that I, like Scooby and the gang, can remove the terrifying mask you wear.

I will fight to see beneath your facade, gaining a glimpse into the lesson you wish to teach.

I will deliberately choose to breathe in life and love, removing the sting of venom in your bite.

I will remind both of us that you are my coach, not my boss.

Do you remember how you drove me to avoid letting people down? That palpable compulsion to say yes to every request anyone asked? I would do anything to please people with you at the wheel. More and more, I’m putting my hands at 10 & 2 on the helm. Time, practice, and my partner in crime led me to see your roots.

At your root was a little boy who feared that love had to be earned. A boy who saw love as a one-dimensional thing equivalent to a boat that never rocked. As a man, I have seen abundant evidence that true love remains in turbulent waters. In fact, genuine love can only bloom in the face of such obstacles. As a man, I know that love’s abundance means I don’t have to earn it. I know I am loved, and that truth has set me free. Free to say no when it’s what I mean. Free to save enough of that love for myself rather than spending every last penny for others. Free to walk my path and disregard sideways glances cast upon me. Free to be.

We also need to talk about how you inspire me to live with purpose and intention. I worry about losing the people I love in a tragic and unexpected fashion. Contemplating the fact that they could disappear is paralyzing. And yet, I want to meet you rather than push you away or let you consume me. I thank you for reminding me to live fully present with my loves while they’re here. I thank you for making me see in the wild works of nature how the cycle of birth and death is a beautiful dance, both elements necessary and magnificent. You remind me that I have indelible marks on my heart and soul made by the ones I love, and in that way, they will live in me as long as I draw breath. In this way, you have become fuel for me to make a more purposeful life.

So, fear, my multifaceted friend, let’s keep this conversation going. I will keep asking you who you really are, so we can make a habit of seeing each other eye to eye.

**My style score is a 72%, and the achiever in me hurts a little in accepting a “C.” But I have good reason for it. The thing bringing me down in that category is my use of repeated words/phrases at the start of sentences. I am a big believer in anaphora, as I see its power to drive home a message and bring my voice through the page. I really enjoyed using this tool though, and I see how I can create my own style rubric. I will have to continue to play around with it. Thanks for the opportunity to use this resource and to share my writing once again!**

I am afraid that every poem in my bones 
will become a sickle cell disease 
I cannot cure. 
An ocean of passion and fervency
I’ll keep clotted in my veins.
The kindest protest of this gift
would be if it kills me. 

I am afraid that every drop of ink I pour from my veins,
every page I dirty with my vengeful words 
and every warm honeysuckle string
I sow these sentences with 
will be a drug I fall apart for.

I am afraid that in leaving this pen on the table
I am abandoning my sword and shield.
surrendering my safety, my purpose,
to be conventionally put together
when I was born to be Starfire.
Cosmically unstable, prismatic incarnate. 

but when I speak,
you tell me I am so potent and forceful, 
that it hurts the shell of your ears. 
You spit in my face,
try to rebuild this box to put me in,
as if the blueprints on the floor
aren’t proof of the one since incinerated.  

I am made of dead stars and every shred of love that has come before me
and you expect me to be comprehensible?
I speak with my chest 
because it took tending to every seed
left rotting in my flesh
to erupt with these words
you now lick off my fingertips.

I am terrified that one day
these shadows will consume me.
And I will drown choking on my own blood,
and this star will snuff itself out,
and I will have no voice left to scream with,
and it will all be my fault.
and it will have been preventable. 
if I had just bled out these pages. 

So no.
I do not care that my presence
takes up so much space
that you are suffocating.
I do not care if my voice is so loud you go deaf
or that I am the last thing you ever hear.
I do not care if these pages go nowhere
and I am left with nothing but the physical 
remnants of myself
no I do not care if it is never enough.
It will never be enough.
to scare me away from this.  

(100% style score)

Fear, My Oldest Friend,
I need you, but not at this capacity. The original task assigned was to protect and guide me.
You used to lead with gentle nudges, but now you rule through crippling waves of fear. You’ve become the destroyer of dreams; the bringer of pain and disappointment.
You were wonderful once; glorious even, consistent, and exactly what I needed. Never letting me push too far, you were always there to support me. Excited to have fun, you’d jump at the chance to explore my limits throughout random adventures.
We did everything together. People referred to you as my imaginary friend, but you were so much more.
Do you remember when you helped me learn to ride a bike? Until I mastered my balance and control, you were persistent in coaxing me to wear my helmet and relentless when demanding I keep the training wheels intact.
The day finally arrived when dad removed those awful stabilizers, and mom readied herself to capture my first official take off. Nervous as I was, I couldn’t move, but you were steadfast and encouraging, instilling confidence to enable me to kick off the ground. And kick I did.
Fueled by confidence and renewed determination, it wasn’t long before I was at my top speed, pedaling my heart out. I felt you guiding me, reminding me to keep my focus, but you never tried to convince me to slow down.
I closed my eyes for only a moment as the warm breeze caressed my face just before whipping through my hair. Everything shifted as I felt myself floating through the air, embraced by the sky itself. I spent the day chasing that feeling, riding until the sun gave out, my legs not too far behind.
We made the perfect duo.
What happened?
Instead of training wheels, you’ve put me in chains.
I won’t lie; for a while I liked it, loved it even. It made me feel safe. But now, I want to feel more. I want to grow, spread my wings, and fly again.
I think you lost confidence in your abilities and, through fears of your own, began stifling me to stabilize your doubts.
It would be a lie to say I didn’t fear the complete loss of your confidence-inducing support. I long to hear your soft, encouraging whispers nudging me along – never afraid to let me fail while keeping me safe as I venture on. Instead, I am frozen by the foghorn warning you send reverberating through my body at the mere thought of reaching for something outside of this prison, posing as a safety net.
Regardless, I will begin my journey back to the skies with or without your support. I need to find myself again, without the restraints I’ve allowed you to implement.
This letter is my battle cry; a plea to convince you to push through your hesitations and join me. I sincerely hope you accept.
Sky’s the limit.
Me
100% style score

I’m Terrified of Going Back to Therapy

9/6/23
10:35 pm

I’m terrified of going back to therapy
Because what if I heal
The best parts of me
The open wounds that give birth to my creativity
What if my trauma is the origin of my art
Who am I without this pain
What would I do if it simply went away
And what would I write
If a therapist fixed me
And I no longer had nightmares and dreams
Of waking up screaming
Running for my life
Who would I be
When I’m no longer living in survival mode
A dystopian war zone
What if all my talent is tied to my trauma
And the wounds of my heart yield
The most beautiful art
What if I lose it all
And set aside the sorrow and anger
What sort of creativeness could be crafted
From contentedness and splendor
Is my only hope for creation
The result of destruction
Would I be talentless without the catastrophes around me
What would I do without the scars
And the bruises and marks
I cannot imagine my life without this pain
And this anger settled deep inside of me
And I can’t just set it aside
I feel like without it I might not survive
Because sometimes it’s the only thing that’s kept me alive
Petty and spite
My anger is a weapon I forge
Protecting me
And my sorrow is a haven
That I reside in
Because it’s all I’ve ever known
I don’t know who I am

Without these things
I’m a dog without a bone

I’m terrified of going back to therapy
Because what if the doctor judges me
For how I spend my time
Or how I’ve wasted away my life
And how long it’s taken me to feel alright
Would they criticize my healing time
Or tell me I need to go out more
Make some friends
Would they ridicule me
For my struggles
Or my sad miserable life
And my attempts at passing time
I can only imagine what they’d say
When I recap a week in my life
They’d probably feel bored out of their mind
But if I even began to delve into the trauma
Maybe they’d understand
That I’m simply healing and resting
For the first time
After being exhausted my whole life
I’m allowing myself to heal and rest on my terms

And what if all that is undone in a moment’s notice
Because I realize how utterly unhealed I still am

I’m terrified of going back to therapy
Because what if it doesn’t help me
What happens if all that money is spent
And I’m left the same as I was before I walked in
What would I do if I’m left unchanged and unaffected
By their attempts at remedying me
What if I’ve learned all there is to learn
And there’s simply no helping me
Would I have wasted hours
Talking about the deepest parts of me
Just to be left empty
With nothing to show for it
No participation trophy
What’s the end goal
Am I meant to walk out restored
Or perhaps a more broken version than before
Realizing the depths of the tragedy
That shaped me
I’m so worried
That their words won’t even faze me
Because I’ll be too far gone for saving
A useless attempt at a treatment plan

I’m terrified of going back to therapy
Because the child inside of me is still in mourning
And she’s not ready
For what needs to be unearthed
To get to the root of my trauma
She wants to keep it buried and plant over it
A patch of wildflowers
That’s roots will travel down
And devour the wound whole

The younger version of me
Is scared of admitting everything
And coming to terms with what it all means
And she still wants to hold onto some shred of naivety
A sliver of innocence left in me
Untainted and full of youth
My heart aches and cries
And screams and wails
For justice for her
That I know I could never serve
And I’m not sure therapy
Could heal the younger version of me
That needed the knowledge I have now
I don’t think talking could soothe the burning within me
Or the hole I felt carved into my chest
When I was only a child
That I couldn’t put a name to
And what do I do
Now that I can

I’m terrified of going back to therapy
Because I feel it’s exactly where I need to be

(77% Style Score)

Dear Present Moment,

I hope you end soon.

Right now, I’m staring at my phone, waiting for my blood sugar to go up. I thought this evening would improve after I parked my car and cried. I had to pull over on my drive home tonight due to a panic attack brought on by a call from my doctor.

The news from the call was net neutral. My doctor has more paperwork to fill out in another attempt for my insurance to approve my insulin pump. In the meantime, she has a free one she’s willing to give to me. But I have to call out sick from work and drive an hour each way to pick it up this week. Work is busy. Too busy for me to feel comfortable calling out sick. But I need my pump. And I need my job so I can have insurance that will deny my pump.

But insurance that can deny my pump is still better than no insurance at all.

My insurance at least covered the antibiotics to help my sinus infection go away. I don’t know if I’m correct, but I think the sinus infection was brought on because I dared to breathe the fresh air in Los Angeles after the rain this past week. I guess the air wasn’t clear enough from the fires that have been raging for the past month in my home.

I keep trying to enjoy you. People tell me you’re beautiful, that you’re to be enjoyed. But every time I try, something happens. I make plans to see a concert and I become an impatient then I’m selling that ticket from my itchy hospital bed.

I try to flirt with a boy I like. I dress up cute for the next time I’ll see him. I find out from a friend that he bailed because he went on a date with someone else.

Things will get better, I tell myself. They seem to for other people. I know that not everyone always enjoys you––that’s the nature of your existence. But it seems like other people think you can be fun and joyful. I haven’t found you to be that way.

I’ve wondered sometimes if I’m the problem in our relationship. I know I think of myself too much. I re-read this letter and realize how many sentences start with “I.” I hate that I start so many sentences with “I,” but I often don’t know how else to start them.

Maybe I can try starting sentences with “you.” You have brought me moments of happiness and those moments are savored. They’ve been photographed and taped to my wall. Most of them aren’t good. Faces are blown out, limbs are blurry, bodies are cut off. You look so beautiful in them.

You can be so lovely and so wonderful. However, that leads me to question if we’re in an abusive relationship. Most days you make me so unhappy. But there are moments of reprieve when you bring me so much joy, I can forgive you a hundred times over for all the pain I have felt in your presence.

My friend is coming to visit later this week. Will you please have mercy on this visit? Will you please be the gentle partner I know you’re capable of being? Will you not interfere with your sickness and destruction that you can so effortlessly bring?

My head keeps turning behind and ahead, desperate to learn your past lessons so that I may have a peaceful future. I find myself living in moments past and planning for moments to come. After all the pain of the past, I cannot bear to look you straight on.

If I raise my gaze to meet you, will you please be gentle with me in this moment? Can we sit together peacefully, maybe even hold hands? Please. Just give me a fucking break.

All the best,
Mel

ProWritingAid Style Score: 81%

Dear Eternal Dolor, 

Before you became the pain, you were the love, the light, the hope. 

After locking eyes, you brought light to the fade. 

Following a sealed kiss, you gave me warmth to my tremble. 

Behind your ‘I Love You’, you furnished my aspiration to an unknown future. Love of My Life. That’s what you were. That’s what you were deemed to be. 

Until you became what I feared, my unforeseen dolor.

Before your true colors manifested, you made me forever promises for which I sought. 

We envisioned a whole future, you and I. 

Me dressed in white, while you in a tie. 

Living in a home overseeing open spaces in summer heat. 

Watching offsprings run like wild horses, free and lively. 

Holding hands, wrinkled and fragile, as we’d take our final breaths to drift in our everlasting skies. 

It was all planned and set in stone until you became what I feared. The hit that broke the bone. 

In the end, you left your weight on my shoulders for me to tumble. 

Your silence struck my peace like boulders falling from high mountains. 

The distance you desired from me felt like miles of ocean. 

Casted words pierced my heart like push pins stabbing pictures on a wall you once admired.

Broken and weak. Scared and deficient. My fear overwhelmed me. 

You became what I feared.

The betrayal.

The loss.

The grief.

The lie.

My dear, eternal dolor. 

Hours, days, weeks, and months have passed. Wound is still fresh but stitched. 

Every setting we shared in sight are now memories. Memories forever are engraved to my mind, body, and soul.

No regrets. No time wasted. 

I loved you more than you loved me. 

I loved you more than when the sun rises from the east to greet the soil. 

I loved you more than witnessing acts of kindness among total strangers. 

I loved you more than myself. Was that not enough? 

Love for own self became the hope. 

Love for own self became fuel to a burning fire I did not know I carried. 

Love for own self took me out of dark paths that you were already heading towards. 

Love for own self gave me courage like when prey faces its predator. 

Face to face. Eye to eye. 

Love for own self rescued me from thy dolor. The feel of forever but not always present. 

My Eternal Dolor.  

Sincerely, 

Your True Love You Will Never Have Again

(100% Style Score)

Dear Life Inside of Me,
I know… I know…
I have to keep going 
This fight is for me
I must LIVE  
Yes it hurts 
Yes, I’m sad 
I know if I stop 
If I continue to stop 
I will continue to die 
So FEAR 
I’m calling you out 
You’ve hidden as my friend 
 behind the shadows 
You were killing me from within 
You tried to end my story 
introduced yourself as my protector 
I put myself at the mercy of your integrity
You created crisis after crisis 
Hamster wheel not stopping
then 
You took something from me 
Ground shaking, I couldn’t breathe 
Dying and fighting … dying and crying 
Darkness and death 
Here I am again? Howwwwwwww? 
Looking to the left 
Looking to the past 
This…. feels …..familiar …. 
Again… back here again ..
This makes no sense 
How..? What is it? 
Light …bulb…. FEAR 
Ahhhhhh
Goodbye you narcissist 
I will keep going 
I choose to live 
Forget my comfort 
Forget what was 
You kept me holding the past 
Afraid to LIVE
Long enough 
This feeling 
This feeling I’m feeling … 
It was you …
All along 
Not Rejection, Not Abandonment, Not Lack, YOU….
You’ve ruined enough for me 
ENOUGH….
Goodbye fear 
I will keep going 
You are no longer welcomed 
You die here 
And I 
I BEGAN HERE NOW AND FOREVERMORE …
BECAUSE I EXIST fear YOU ARE NO MORE!

(100 Style Score)

Dear Too Much,
I had to sit with you for a while.
Under my flesh you crawl, But I’m ready to brawl.
Too much trauma,
and
Too Much baggage
Or at least that is what I told myself.

Like a swirling vortex,
a tornado I cradle
I’ve held onto you like some sort of label.

Dear too much,
I had to sit with you a while,
just to figure you out.

Call by call, and talk by talk he fixes that.
Walk by walk I remember that,
If one that therapist can handle all “This” then someone else can too,
and maybe, just maybe, Too Much is actually just enough.

Dear Too Much,
You’re finally out of touch.

Dear Fear,

You’ve been lurking in the shadows, creeping into my thoughts like a cold, unseen presence. I thought I could outsmart you distract myself with distractions, tell myself I’d get to it tomorrow. But tomorrow never comes, does it?

You show up like an uninvited guest at every moment I shine. You whisper that I don’t deserve to be here, that I’m not doing this, that it’s only a matter of time before I get exposed. You’ve made me question my worth more than once, turning my achievements into shadows of doubt. You convinced me my success is nothing but a fluke, and I am nothing but a fraud waiting to be unmasked.

You’re the one who stands in the doorway, tempting me to stay in my comfort zone. You distract me with “just one more scroll” or “ one more episode.” You are always patient, like a slow poison, convincing me that there’s no need to rush. But deep down I feel your grip tightening, the hours slipping away, leaving me with nothing but guilt and missed opportunities.

But today- today, I’m taking my power back, you may be a shadow, but I’ve learned that shadows only exist because of light. I’m the light. And I’m done hiding from you.

I’ve stared you both down long enough. I know you’re not as powerful as you seem. You can whisper all you want, but I won’t be silenced. I’ll push past you, step by step, and I’ll make my way to the future I’ve been too afraid to claim. You might still show up, but I’m no longer letting you dictate my story.

Watch me. I’m doing this.

Sincerely, a future that’s no longer waiting.

Prowriting Style Score: 79
My Fears: Imposter Syndrome and Procrastination