For too long, you have sat beside me like an unwelcome guest, whispering doubts into the quiet corners of my mind, casting shadows over my dreams. You have gripped my heart in moments when I should have soared, kept me trapped in hesitation when I should have stepped boldly into my purpose. You have stolen my breath, my confidence, my belief in myself. But today, I am writing to you not as your prisoner, but as your reckoning.

You have told me that I may leave this world without fulfilling my purpose, without breaking free from the traumas and scars I have carried like armor. You have made me fear that time will slip through my fingers before I can inspire, before I can heal, before I can leave a mark that outlives me. You have tried to convince me that I may pass through this life without truly living.

But I refuse to let you win.

I have walked through the fire of heartbreak, of loss, of self-doubt, and yet, here I stand. I have endured pain so deep it threatened to consume me, but I did not break. My scars are not reminders of my suffering—they are proof of my survival. Every tear I have shed, every battle I have fought, has led me here. I have been refined by the very things you told me would destroy me.

I am no longer waiting for the “right moment” to become who I was meant to be. My transformation is already unfolding. My voice is already speaking life. My healing is already inspiring. And that means, Fear, that you no longer have power over me.

I will love deeply, live fully, and walk in my divine purpose. I will not leave this earth with my heart full of unspoken truths or my hands empty of impact. My faith is greater than you. My purpose is bigger than you. My destiny is beyond your reach.

You have had your time, but I am taking my power back.

I am no longer yours to hold.

Dear Fear,
The singularity of your denotation is laughable – as if I could boil your torturous embezzlement of the soul into something non-plural. I’m afraid you’re much more than that.

The loathsome entity who walks hand in hand with Time. A vile representation of one’s thoughts often viewed radically opposing that of your counterpart. And yet, if you weaken – well, let’s just say Time heals all wounds.
I’m afraid of you, Fear. The definitive strength and swiftness of your cataclysmic actions are only rivaled by Mother Nature herself. I’m afraid of how Time will affect our relationship. Fearful of what you will or won’t have me do. The choices and options I’ll take on only to be led down the crackled path meticulously laid by your working hands. I’m afraid you have been with me since birth, my longest companion. The infant brain continuously in fight-or-flight mode, reacting instinctively to reduce the stress carried in your core. The potential shame I feel battling with daily toil only to be put down by peers. The hindsight of risks taken and its lonely and logical perspective breakdown of one’s past failures and future consequences. You are equipped with powers to silence voices, shut down ideas, and shift morals. The beautiful and dangerous ability to change how one views them self in the mirror. A repertoire packed with century worn gadgets of confusion, marginalization, and ill judgement. Balanced delicately with the innate capability to guide the weak toward strength. Presenting opportunities to rise above challenges you’ve previously crafted. And provide a small beacon of light charting course toward self-improvement and gratification. Only You can tiptoe the existential tightrope between excitement and daunt. A resilient and acrobatic performance walking along the accords of your own divided soul. A terrifying feat.
Is my story just yours? A tale comprised of your experienced puppetry spun in different avenues, adding to a web of my incapacities and your amusement? Is your reflection stronger in my shortcomings or my accomplishments? Why is your complete essence burning with negativity but lie so bluntly in plain view seeking demise? Do you fear the ones you control will overcome you, or is there hope that you fear they will not? And do you get lonely within your laborious endeavors? Don’t, Fear. I’ll always be around.See, to overcome you would be paradoxical. I fear that the solutions to you, Fear, is simply existing. For death would mean I’m alleviated from our strenuous relationship, leaving us wondering who achieved more. A timeless bout you’ve claimed partner stake in through eternity.
I’m afraid we have many more years left Fear, and I’m afraid it may not be all the time we need.
Yours truly,
Matthew J Beeler
Style Score – 75%

Dear sex,
When I was a child, my parents openly explained human reproduction to me. I wasn’t scared of you then. You brought me a healthy baby brother that I hated for a while, but then learned to tolerate.
When I was a teenager, I grew into myself a bit more and realized that I wanted children of my own one day—a big family with lots of love. The scene of lots of laughter and sticky fingers came to mind so easily. I started welcoming you then, but I decided I would save you for the man I love and trust, and not just one I had a small crush on.
It was when I reached my last year of high school and my first year of college that I met a boy I felt more comfortable with. We’d spend hours kissing, as teenagers often do, but I always lacked the courage to start. It always had to be him who made the first move, and although he touched me in ways meant for lovers only, I couldn’t do it in return. I’d always retaliate in panic and disgust. I tried to keep my feelings hidden, as I knew he felt self-conscious by my reactions, but it wasn’t his fault—it was yours.
I loved this man and felt a brief panic was not only normal, but worth enduring for the one you trust. After a long, serious conversation, I said I was ready to take our relationship physically all the way because I thought it’s what he wanted. I thought it was what I wanted. He broke up with me that night.
When I became more of an adult, I met my now husband. I repeated the same things to him. I can’t initiate. I tense up. I pull away, but it’s not his fault—it’s yours.
I ultimately fell in love with my husband because he treated me like a prize instead of something broken. If he felt I wasn’t ready, he’d pull away so I wouldn’t feel guilty and like it was my fault, even though it was actually yours.
He made me feel safe and loved. I decided he was worth everything. He was slow, gentle, and careful, but it hurt. Then, it hurt some more. I started breathing heavily, convincing myself this is what ecstasy is supposed to feel like—that I can do this for him. However, when we were both done, I couldn’t stop hyperventilating. I could feel the walls closing in, my vision darkening, and the vomit creeping up. What is wrong with me?
Believing I was broken, I went to a therapist. She introduced me to asexuality, and I found a community through Reddit, YouTube, and old friends. They helped inform me (and my husband) what it means to be on the ace spectrum. I wasn’t happy at first, though. I couldn’t explain how I felt; my dreams of a big family felt impossible, and I felt inadequate to make my husband happy. I felt like a terrible wife.
I eventually realized I couldn’t be intimate without experiencing a panic attack, and so I consulted a psychologist for coping strategies. I was certain I would never find intimacy enjoyable, but my psychologist told me, “You should enjoy it,” making me feel broken again. Everyone naturally enjoys you. Why not me?
I turned to drugs on my honeymoon because my husband strives for your presence, but they just made me feel sick and more anxious. Out of options, I hesitantly chose to accept that I just don’t like you. I ordered a pride flag, changed my Bitmoji shirt, and even got an ace of hearts tattoo.
Because of my new found merch, a friend of mine asked if I was ace. After sheepishly responding yes, she invited me to a roundtable event for Asexuals only. I finally found other people who think like I do. I am not alone. It is not my fault. It is yours.
I am more confident now that I am not broken. I am ok with being who I am. My husband loves me for who I am. I don’t need to fear you. Surrounding myself with love and support from my newfound family taught me I will not like you, and that’s ok—that a good cry is also healing—especially when your husband brings you a slushy, Twizzlers, and chips after.
Thank you for teaching me to be myself. I will not fear you because my husband, my friends, and my future kids all love me.
With love,
Julia
Style Score: 83%

Dear Fear,
I have allowed you to keep me complacent for far too long. I allowed it because I misinterpreted your behavior as a friendship. Fear you were fake and hid your true identity, which is False Evidence Appearing Real. Showing up daily, weekly, monthly and sometimes annually as isolation and self doubt. Fear you had me thinking that being comfortable was normal and that you would not interrupt my growth and development. You had my mind filled with thoughts that I would always do things wrong and instantly give into not trying new things. Fear you have increased my cortisol levels, and it is not okay. So, Fear I have decided to conquer you once and for all. I will try new things, exercise, and increase my levels of self confidence. I have been practicing being mindfully secure by changing the way I once viewed you, Fear. Currently, my physical, emotional, and spiritual well-being are my priorities. Rather than: I’d rather take small steps forward than avoid a new goal entirely. I will take more deep breaths instead of holding my breath. I will remember hard spaces and things will not last. Looking you straight in the face and saying, “Not today and never Fear!” Fear I will allow myself to be; Be me, and not to be a perfectionist. Fear, I say goodbye to you and your friends that interrupted my life from all the magnificent accomplishments, but guess what, it is not too late. Good Bye Forever!
Sincerely,
The one that recovered all

At first, I was afraid of thunderstorms.
I would hide in the bathroom with my doll in my arms.
I knew where to go if a tornado came.
I’d sleep in bathtubs or basements to feel less afraid.
At school, they taught us to get under the desk,
And I think I’ve been keeping myself low to the ground ever since.
Maybe that’s why, as I grew older,
I became fearful of airplanes,
And now I’m terrified to fly.
In my mind’s eye, it doesn’t seem right to be up in the sky.
I always feel safer in a window seat near the wing.
I guess I find the clouds sort of beautiful and calming.
They make me briefly forget I gave away all control,
To whoever’s flying the plane that I don’t know at all.
Maybe losing control is my real fear in life,
Or maybe my real fear is dying.
Maybe it’s ending up like my mom,
Or maybe it’s being too afraid of trying.
I know I’m afraid of becoming insignificant.
I know I’m afraid of wasting another year,
And now, I think I’m afraid of how I respond to fear.
Of all the toxins I’ve had to remove,
Fear has been the most potent and lasting.
Fear takes over the brain without even asking.
Stuck in survival with stress hormones recycling,
I realize I’m tense even when I’m relaxing.
They say knowledge is the antidote to fear,
But I know that not to be true,
This is what the Tree of Knowledge will do.
The more I learned, the more fearful I became,
And because of fear, I didn’t see things the same.
I want to watch clouds, but my judgement is clouded.
All the new information made my thoughts too crowded.
I realize now everything is neutral until slapped with perspective,
And living in fear is no way to live.

Style Score: 100%

Infidelity,

Inside the shadows, you rest. Watching and waiting for two individuals to become one so you can then prance in between their love. What fancies you about my family? Rays of many blue moons have tinted my skin, while I search for your silhouette in the stillness of my room. Your fragrance lingers on the walls of my childhood room, yet your hunched frame camouflages you. Although I sense your breathing over my shoulder as I write, this letter is dedicated to Infidelity. For I am writing to you — not to surrender, but to defy you.

I remember you first appeared as a gust of wind that sat on my brother’s bed. As I entered the room, I took in your uncanny smile, waiting for me to sit next to you. You wanted to capture my sweet tears to feast on as I heard the regret in my brother’s girlfriend’s voice through the screen. You had paired up with Alcohol the previous night and agreed to puppeteer her turbid conscience into tempting her to a stranger’s bed. Years went on and you visited us once more. Convinced my brother-in-law to welcome another lady into his marital bed with promises that my sister would never find the unmade bed or the empty wine left on the bedside table the next day. I wonder how our tears taste, for they must be sweet enough to entice you to steal drops from tender eyes. Sneaking into the guest room to comfort my inconsolable nephews as screams bounced from wall to wall in the living room was not the most grueling — it was to keep calm as I saw your shadow standing over young souls. You introduced your belongings into my siblings’ wedlock homes, toppling over them like dominoes. I have seen your harsh work — leading those into my room when the ticking of time is the loudest, lurking behind my siblings’ whispered confessions, settling into my mind.

My dreams have changed throughout, yet my desire for love has remained constant. Although I yearn to feel warmth envelop my hands on cold, shaking nights, I hesitate to reach for the hands of a devoted partner — fearing my hands will freeze over theirs. I scrutinize every feeling, every attachment, loathing the thought of opening a door for you.

With all the fear in my heart, I write with valor and dedication that I will not allow you to topple my future matrimony. I will wed someone who not only offers me a partnership, but whose family also welcomes me with open arms. I vow to search for a spouse who provides me with a friend, boyfriend, husband, and father to our future children — a man who offers me a second family. I long for a partner who reflects my faith — Someone who has been cut from the same cloth as the One Eternal Power who humbled Himself for us by becoming flesh. That way, our love will live for the Word: ‘Love one another as I have loved you.’ I will choose someone who clothes himself in the image and likeness of God. Infidelity, I’ll make sure you stumble over your steps and panic clouds your vision. For in the unity of two souls, rooted in faith, you cannot stand. Sacred love: A bond that serves as a sanctuary under God, impenetrable to evil schemes.

I come from a worn-out tapestry, but I am not the same thread responsible for the mistakes of the past. My fated love will be woven into a decorative design, hard to pull apart. I will take responsibility for my weaving. You hold no power over me, for I will not let you see me through the corners of emptiness. My story is my own. I, with the Lord watching over my home, will not welcome you into my life. Your steps will not resonate on the floors of my heart’s dwelling.

You might have haunted my past, but I do not wish to carry you into my future. Infidelity, although I felt no pleasure in knowing you, I allow myself to admit: Your presence has taught me the importance of committing to someone and the value of falling vulnerable to someone. I desire no attempt to cross paths with you, yet your teachings will follow me throughout. I am leaving regret and doubt behind me, Infidelity. As I cut the chains off, I say: ‘Farewell.’

(100% Style Score)

Dear Fear, 
I hope you like the taste of dirt,
Piece by piece, I will be the first to bury you with my shovel, the same way you’ve been
trying to cut through my skin. I will choke you with rocks, so you never speak again of
my height. I will push deep with the sole of my shoe, “Look who’s standing tall now!”.
With my shovel full again, I will cover your heartless ribs. You tried to fill your hollow
insights with mine. In exchange for hate, you tried to take my soul. You turned the world
against me; or rather you turned me against the world. Because of you, I thought even
though short, I didn’t fit in. Because of you, I thought, even though a woman, I didn’t fit
in. Because of you, I thought, even though unique, I didn’t fit in. So there, I crash your
empty ribs with hard soil. 
 Dear Fear, I have news, you will never win over me. You cannot touch me; I have
broken your boney wrists! You cannot grab the fabric of my clothes telling me “It’s
cheap!”. You cannot point at my face with your finger or send your models into my feed
or fix my nose or my eyebrows or the color of my skin. The blood is running warm in my
veins. I might be standing tall, but I am not standing out. I belong in this world as much
as everybody else! 
You will never win over me! I put my name on the stone above your grave! You sent
your faceless terrorists, “Bring me the brain!” you told them, “Bring me the liver!” you
told them, “Bring me her heart!” You wished to swallow me piece by piece, self by self.
Insight out. But I planted violet lilies and white daisies above your grave when I realized
the only way out was through. I found peace through you, Fear. You taught me how to
roll my eyes at your wicked expressions and how to shrug my shoulders at your heinous
comments. I put my name on the stone above your grave; you wanted me to lose
myself and instead you helped me find it. 
That is all I need to go now; the feast is about to begin above your grave. 
Sleep tight.

(83% style score)

Dear Fear,

Hey it’s me again. I thought I got over you, but somehow, I’m still afraid to win. Like we been together so long, I tried to be so strong. I thought we were done. I was so confident, I shined like the sun. Fear you, done a number on my dreams, I allowed you to mute my screams. Suppressions caused my brain too much stress. Somehow still trying my best. I overcame the shame, the pain, the abuse, and the misfortunes. One thing that remains is the distortions of altering time. Trying to accomplish goals, meanwhile, filling the holes of emptiness, somehow, the fear of failure is something I can’t digest. I try my best, I fail, I’m like Jill, looking for jack with the water pail, he walked right past me on the trail. Every time he doesn’t see me, it’s another depiction of invalidation, I’m so thirsty and have me waiting. The fears of lack of love have me hating, raging, in anger, now every time I speak, I’m in danger. My thoughts out loud. Schizophrenic head in the clouds. Fears of the unknown, and the unheard, I’m never quite, I get on my own nerves. So alone, but strong. I keep going, never will I quit, I’ll admit I was so scared to fail, probably because I never had anyone to wish me well. So much pain my brother died in a cell. Now I’m locked and my mind is the jail. But God was the lawyer, the trial was this mental disorder, and I will make it out. I will soon win, I won’t always be in a drought.

Fears of failure? Outside in a world looking for your treasure, but the whole time you’re the treasure. Your gold, it’s so much beauty in the pain you hold. Be bold, and don’t live in fear, although they live in facades, they have problems there.

Dear fear, you will never win. I have this resilience built in. I’m in the season of succession, destined to teach people all my lessons. Dear fear, fuck you! I have better things to do.

Sincerely,

Lu

Dear Fear,
I’m writing to let you know that I’m doing good.
I’m doing all the things I didn’t think that I could.
Dear Fear, even your silence is still loudly heard.
Even when your vision is clear it is still often blurred.
I’m writing to let you know that I still sometimes hurt.
I’m here today to address my concerns.
Please listen up and listen up well.
I come through smooth even when I’m going through hell.
I’m showing you my hand, I’m telling you my tells.
Dear Fear, please do or don’t take this the wrong way.
I hope you take heed to the things that I have to say.
I’m going to do nothing but diminish you when I pray.
Dear Fear, please don’t have a good rest of your day.

Dear Fear,

I immediately regret using a cordial word like ‘dear’ in my greeting. I have zero friendly feelings toward you. You freeze us in our tracks. Fear, you are a giant speed bump on the roads we take to self-actualization. You keep us from getting close enough to the people who need us, as well as those who can help us overcome you.

Choosing one fear to write about in an uncertain world full of trepidation is difficult. I reject some of the bigger and darker fears that people have. Death doesn’t scare me. I can’t summon up fear for a one-time event that is inevitable for us all. It will happen. It’s all of humanity’s destiny. And once it happens, it’s possible we’re not even going to know or care. It’ll be over, and our book of life, at least in this realm, will be closed.

Fear of failure is a popular choice of many, but I’ve never feared failure. Perhaps I’ve fallen short so many times that I’ve become inured to failing. I’ve always believed that if you’re not failing, you’re not trying enough. So, come at me, failure, and I will give you a great big hug.

Way back in 1974, Jim Stafford had a Billboard-charting song titled “Spiders and Snakes” in which Stafford sings of his dislike of the title creatures. They perfectly describe you, my fear. I don’t literally mean creepy, crawly spiders and slithering snakes, although I will admit that coming across a hairy spider in the basement or a snake ready to nip at my ankles in the garden are not my favorite experiences. Maybe if I lived in Australia, where most living creatures are ready, willing, and able to kill humans without any provocation, actual spiders and snakes may scare me. But I live in the USA’s Midwest. Most spiders and snakes I encounter are benign and harmless, except for the figurative ones.

I’m referring to “spiders” like:
“It’s going to take too long.”
“I’m not creative enough to come up with ideas.”
“I don’t have the skills to do that.”

And to “snakes” like:
“I just don’t have the time.”
“I’ve never tried that before.”
“I don’t know how.”

I fear falling prey to those “spiders and snakes” far more than a hairy spider crawling toward me while I’m sitting in the bathroom or turning over a garden rock to find a snake. I much prefer a small bite that will surely heal (again, I’m in the US Midwest and not Australia where almost every living creature is poisonous) to the crippling power of the metaphorical “spiders and snakes” that can stop our lives dead in our tracks with fear. I always try to be kind to animals, but I have no qualms about squishing my symbolic spiders in a tissue of determination or whacking my figurative snakes with a club of resolve. I hope PETA will cut me some slack and look the other way as I dispatch the imaginary creatures representing my actual fears.

And so, I have eschewed fears of death, failure, shark attacks, tornadoes, IRS audits, time share contracts, and buying life insurance, and I have settled on the ever-present metaphorical spiders and snakes in my life as my greatest fear. I can’t carry a tune to save my life, but you can always count on me to sing along unabashedly with Jim Stafford, proclaiming to the world that we both don’t like spiders and snakes.

With great disregard,

88% Style Score

Face Everything And Rise-
Fuck Everything And Run.

January 31st,
Last of the month of this new year
I got the call I’d dreaded-
My baby brother was found dead.
He supported me in every way,
As of my fear-
It cannot flourish,
I’m again six weeks along
I’ve got souls and bodies to nourish.
I have grief to grieve and life to live
To tremble or stall has no place-

“One day at a time,”
Like it said on his hat,
The one he was wearing today when he breathed his last.
I must be ruthless I’m the face of fear-

I’m a wife yearning to be a mother
I’m a sister who just lost her brother.
I’m a daughter who still misses her mom.
I’m a mother to souls unborn,

And to the hope in my organs,
That I’ll be a mother,
That I’ll make it three trimesters along.
I’ll hold one of my children,
So I cannot dwell in fear,
I got the call…
I’ve got grief to grieve,
Life to live and give.
Souls and bodies to nourish,
So there is no time
Unless it’s needed,
No time for tears or fears,
Only hopeful courage.

I’ve got souls and bodies to nourish.
I have grief to grieve and life to live-
In me- fear may not flourish.

“One day at a time,”
Like it said on his hat,
The one he was wearing, when he breathed his last.
Face Everything And Rise,
Face the fear to become the light.

Dear Fear,

I hate your stinking guts! That is how ‘little me’ feels about you, but adult me knows without you I will have no courage. Fear, you force me to face things head on, you push me to see my dreams come true. For a long time, I believed you were working against me, but now I believe you are working for me. Your purpose in my life is to make sure I live—live life to the fullest. You help me see why life is worth living and with you, I can see the beauty on the other side of you.

Every time I face you, it seems you are trying to stop me from loving. And then I quickly remind myself, you are simply giving me the opportunity to see my strength. I take great pleasure in showing you I can do the impossible. Although that may not be the easiest route, looking back and seeing the journey makes me appreciate you more.

I know most people cannot fathom being grateful for you and to you. But I want you to know I am. You’ve really changed my life over the years; for the better. I wish I began partnering with you sooner. I know there will be new challenges in our future, but I am confident through our previous work together la I’ve developed a bold arsenal to guide me through.

Thank you Fear. I see you from the other side.

 
-Carissa

Style Score: 100%

To my Unrealized Potential,
It is you I fear most. Like the stars, you seem so far, yet you permeate into my very senses, limited as they are, seemingly becoming a reality. A reality far from my reach and yet, I think, I might lasso you beside me at any given moment without concerted effort. Like a shadow, an intangible manifestation of self, but not of self-past, the rosy prospect of self yet to come. I wait for the day of transformation into this new self, the one just out of reach, but that I’ve not made effort to birth. As if longing for the old to molt in a natural process without the acceptance that such an evolution is in my very control. Not just a victim of happenstance; with a potential so unlimited, and yet the stars remain un-lassoed still, for failed effort is more painful than potential, unrealized. That is, until the end of days, when dread and regret creep into my cracks, beyond repair. If only nature had completed its work in me. When change is the only certainty, surely it isn’t my responsibility to will my own transformation into existence. I was who I was supposed to be because fear was always a part of me.
But wait…
…with the end not yet here, perhaps instead, might I accept this newfound revelation that I might forge my own destiny? What better to do with this fear of what is now an unaccepted potential that has branded me than to allow it to catapult me into my greatest self?…
…Yes! No longer shall inaction be my fate! My journey will start with the next right step and, one step at a time, will take me amongst the stars that have taunted me and, until now, always been one famed moment out of my reach. Time, she is a mysterious thing. With each tick-tock, she’s distanced me from what might be until setting forth that I might live and breathe through her, without simply waiting for her to stop.

Style Score: 69%

Undesirable Companion,
I’d say it’s been a while, but I know you’ve been lingering for a long time. When I told my father I was not his daughter, you stood starkly behind me. The world seemed so small as a child in a conservative town. There was this gullible hope inside of me that you were irrational by saying it is not safe to be myself. I thought I could hold my ground and be respected for the feelings I felt so strongly. Little did I know, that love is conditional. After explaining my identity to my father, I was met with disbelief and rhetoric that echoed the fear-mongering of men on political channels. Grief, guilt, and of course, you; my fear, swallowed me whole. Despite how long it has been since then, you find ways to creep closer to me by the day.
I see you in the mirror when I enter the restroom, merely trying to do what I must and race out before I am questioned by strangers. You breathe down my neck when cashiers check my ID, whispering what they must think of me; a freak of nature, a monster, sub-human.
The state of the country has allowed you to flourish. My underage siblings are losing their rights to life-saving affirming care. The very medications and therapies I have used to keep you at bay are now being demonized for reasons I still do not understand. You crawl into my skin and make my hands tremble at the headlines. You rattle in my ears, telling me I am next on the chopping block.
Most days I am at your whim; guided by your dense shadow. You tell me if I do not keep my head down, I will not survive. As my country decides I am an enemy in my home, I have been looking up more. My view of the world grows larger by the day. It is disheartening that it took such painful circumstances, but I have never felt more connected to my community. There are thousands of my siblings not in blood, but in experience. My sisters in L.A. are fighting for gender-affirming markers on our legal documents. My brothers in court arguing my right to live comfortably with the Supreme Court. Remembering my connection to others in my community and that I’m not alone in this suffocating reality helps keep you at bay. Even more powerful, I see long-since-grown adults telling their stories. Until now, some in my community lived hidden lives that are true to themselves. At first sight, there are men who I would never think understand what I experience, yet they have known you longer than I have been alive. I see women who have waited decades to face you, finally deciding that comfortability in their own skin is a life much more worth living. The stories of those before me strengthen my future. For years, I didn’t think I’d make it past 18. Now, at 21, I am filled with pride and gratitude for holding on. The voices of my elders strengthen me, reminding me this does not have to be the end. Being submissive in times like these, when you are so unrelenting, would mean the megalomaniacs in power have won. I see myself in the mirror and remember I am living the life I was meant to; in pursuit of happiness. What happened to life and liberty?
I know you will always be here. As the days go on, I am both comforted and heartbroken, knowing I am not your only victim. It is my responsibility as a self-made-man in an increasingly violent world to share my story of how much you have hindered me and my growth. The days of keeping my head down and mouth sewn shut are not beneficial to my life. No matter what happens, I will not stay silent.

(Style Score- 81%)

My biggest fear is all in my mind.
Thinking of all the things that should’ve been left behind.
The things that I just can’t seem to let go of.

The things that have set up shop in my mind.
Keeping me from absolute freedom,
and making me feel as though I’m stuck in time.

The would haves.
The should haves.
The could haves.

The times I didn’t speak my mind,
to address things that crossed the line.
The boundaries that were not developed,
and the ones I was afraid to use for my protection.

Silently taught to keep quiet and let things be.
Shhh…. don’t rock the boat or create waves in the sea.
The sea being life.
Just do what’s right and sweep those feelings aside.
Everything is going to be alright.

Not being taught to acknowledge, embrace, and accept my emotions.
Keeping those things tucked away,
as I put on a brave face and faced the day.
Just focus on the things that give you an important place in this world.
Not understanding that my feelings are the most important things in my world.

Unresolved issues cause emotional trauma.
Spreading like wildfire,
affecting all facades of your life and causing unnecessary drama.

My biggest fear is being trapped in this state.
Realizing that unresolved issues might be part of my fate.
But, like any other challenge in my life,
I’ll look this fear in the face and give myself grace.
Conquering my fear will mean letting go of the things I can’t control
as I honor the things that free my mind and feed my soul.

(100% Style Score)

Oh, sweet child of mine, rest within me. That rings through my ears repeatedly. It is more than resemblant to a broken record. I feel haunted when I hear that voice coming through the phone, although it’s as simple as not picking up. Knowing that I can say no, and yet I never will.

I attempt to fool myself. The often wonder I feel, wondering if he’ll ever change his ways, and yet it is always the same thing. This fear isn’t the bugs under my skin or the monster in my closet. My fear is what facilitated my creation.

My fear is my father. The man who had been with my mother since before I was born. I feel guilt when I hear his name, and I feel my inner turmoil when I hear the revving of a motorcycle.

They created me like a doll. My mother filled me with her loving stuffing and my father filled me with bricks and stone. Sweet like the forbidden fruit, yet bitter like the whites of a pepper.

When I am congratulated for being strong, I am under the pretense that I am just like him, and it sickens me. How do I cleanse myself of his habits? I will forever push the sadness I have into a lush garden, watching the Jacquemontia bloom.

I am a part of his litter whether I like it or not. Group me in with his other kin and tell me to fetch the bones he left behind.

Not only did he leave his bones, but he left me. I am left here to gather the remains of his mistake. The world moves on for everyone but me. I was a child. I still am I child.

Although I am a child, I’m done. He can no longer pull his extended strings to guilt me. For the candle has flickered for the last time and I have been set free. The same father no longer controls me.

Even though my past still haunts me, leaving its scars for me to clean, it shall never stop me. I am not bound to my past with the chains of my future. This is me speaking up and reaching out. I am reaching out to be a better person. To better myself and to no longer be like the person who has built me up.

So yes, he filled me with bricks and attempted to give me a stone heart, but like a moth, I will break free and change. It will not be pretty at first, yet it is a start. Not only do I choose recovery, but I chose myself.

Here on out, I will make it down the road. I will separate myself from him. His habits are not my own. I will not let the man who helped create me control me. All of this starts with me, and it ends with my recovery. Because, although I am a child, I am stronger than you.
(style score 77%)