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%)

I danced with the devil
Burned by the rush of the ride,
Spiraling down cliffs in his black corvette ride
Engulfed by flames, contently trapped inside

A mirror to all yet avoiding my own eyes
Fear constricts me, tangled in thorny vines
Possessing every thought, screams fly by

Suffocated by his grip, both refusing and begging
Digging his claws deeper into my sides,
One false step: it’ll ruin my life

There’s comfort in hell when it’s all you know
Until the small cracks shatter the ego
Fresh air ebbs and flows
A taste of peace still on the tip of my tongue

Afraid this dark mark will forever stain my heart,
Trudge through the ashes honoring every step fought
Fear of my reflection, loathing the dark rim-stained eyes
On display for the world- haunting, sleepless nights

Envision a life where dreams don’t flush down the drain
Raging voices of doubt seeped into my brain
Threatening to replace the whisper of truth
The flicker of hope they’re demanding to undo

Afraid of my fire, so I let myself drown
Battling engraved years of doubt demanding I tap out
Slowly releasing the shackles, once kept me safely chained in place

Undress my denial as slow as I need
Deny the rushing pace that was once a magnet to me
Respite flowing through with each slow breath I breathe

Chasing impulsivity and chaos once craved
Now repelled by me: unweaving doubts revealed in me
Without fail, I lose my flame when I don’t slow down
Breathe in breathe out, hope guides me now

I’ve danced with the devil
Hauntings of the past attempt to crawl back
A smiling reflection is what I see, knowing they can’t grasp me
Deserving of the fantasies I’ve once dreamed, intertwine with reality
At my pace, as slow as I need

Writing Style Check
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Your document scored 100%. We suggest a score of 80% or higher.

Dear My Greatest Fear,

It took me a long time to write this letter. What we have is a long-term game of tug-of-war. You came into my life when I turned ten years old and that’s when the thick rope appeared. The rope of chronic-illness and constant pain wrapped around my spinal cord and flipped my world inside-out. With each sharp pain, you tug and I bend. The tugs became so strong that I needed surgical intervention. In hopes, to aid in my relief, I tugged the rope back and you bended. I took the rope and pulled with all my strength. Physical Therapy, chiropractor, lidocaine injections, exercise, acupuncture, Botox, painkillers and muscle relaxers have come part of my routine. Despite all the tugging I have done, your pull is stronger.

I’m unable to escape the pains. Wherever I go, you are right nearby, watching my every move. We’ve been living this life in parallel to one another, experiencing birthdays, holidays and special occasions. You stand in the shadows of every corner, checking on me. Making sure you can catch me in my most vulnerable state. Like a thief in the night, you steal away my joy, my hope, and my thirst for life.

Each morning, I wake up, wondering how long I have until you creep into my system. How long do I have until it pinches to breathe again? How long until the next stomach flare up? Will I be able to go to dinner without leaving in tears? Mourning, the life I never had because of you. I’m left in a state of uncertainty about my future. Each time I make progress and tug more at the rope of chronic illness, you develop more strength to pull me back. If I wanted to see changes, I had to adjust how I looked at the picture.

Using the power of spoken word, I began speaking a different perspective over my life. With the combination of therapy, mentorship and reading self-help books, I no longer viewed chronic illness as an enemy. If anything, I discovered it was more of a regulator. Each person has a limited amount of energy they can spend daily. As an individual with chronic illnesses, my day starts at a physically lower point of energy. Knowing this allows me to prioritize what I focus my attention on.

When your body doesn’t cooperate, the way you’re used to, it can be mentally taxing. It’s important to get to a place of acceptance. By me getting up after each flare up to complete my day, I consider that a tug at the rope and me winning. Every day, I find newer ways and combinations to fight off the fear of chronic pain. Every yoga pose, stretch, outfit I wear and meal I eat are all ways to combat it. Will I ever beat you? I’m not sure, but I will spend my the rest of my life dedicated to finding better relief. I will never give up because I want and expect to live a quality life with or without you.

Sincerely,

Jaymillyrock

Dear Mouse,

Why did I use the term ‘dear’ when speaking to you? I have no affection for you whatsoever.

Last night, I awoke to the sound of scratching and scuffling under my kitchen sink. Although it was not loud, the creepy feeling permeated my entire being. I woke my husband to investigate. My suspicions were correct. You had encroached in my space, leaving me feeling violated. My restful repose had fled, as you eluded his attempt to capture you. How dare you!

I find you repulsive, so don’t flatter yourself that you are my greatest fear-’musophobia’. I can’t explain why you terrify me so much. Let’s just call it a visceral reaction that goes beyond intellect. I am a logical woman and many times I have tried to analyze this irrational fear and conquer it. Alas, I failed.

The sight, sound, or suspicion that you or your kin are in my vicinity causes intense physical reaction. My pulse quickens, my breathing speeds up, and often my gag reflex kicks into high gear. The uncontrollable shiver that runs up and down my spine, bringing on ‘heebie-jeebies’, is ridiculous, I know.

How can I allow such a tiny creature, a hundredth of my size, to terrify me so? You don’t have vicious fangs or claws (okay, maybe on a miniature scale) that could do me much damage. Perhaps it’s the way you scurry about at warp speed, too quick, too unpredictable, freaking me out even in peripheral view. Maybe it’s the thought of you lurking about unseen, assessing your surroundings, figuring out your next move, and spying on me.

Don’t start tooting your own horn when I mention you are a master escapologist, slipping through the smallest openings, to invade spaces where you are not welcome; and elude capture.

I will acknowledge that you are not out to get me. It’s cold outside, and you need food and shelter, I get that. However, I implore you to remain in your natural habitat: straw bales, barns, abandoned buildings, dense brush. Rodents would love these places, and barnyard animals tolerate sharing space.

So here’s the deal. Take heed to my warning. I have now planted several varieties of traps in many spots, whose location I shall not divulge to you; we have launched a thorough investigation around the perimeter of our home, sealing up every nook and cranny; and last, but not least, we have placed our two feline furries on high alert to keep you and your family and friends at bay. Spread the word.

I am regaining control-I will not allow you to defeat me. Fear only has as much power as I allow it to possess. I will begin each day with calming meditation and my mantra:

“You are only a mouse, and I am stronger than you.”

Respectfully distant,

The Conqueror

My writing style score was 100%

Dear Fear of Being Forgotten,

Will my children say good things about me at my funeral or write something endearing on my epitaph? Will my family be able to survive after I am gone? After all, they believe I have all the answers. Does my goofiness in the workplace mean my memory will have longevity? I wonder if I will leave a legacy to be remembered, passed down, and replicated through the generations? Will they forget about me and never speak of me again? Will I be able to make enough money to leave some for everyone? What will happen to them after I am gone? Will they eat right? Will they be able to solve problems?

I am so full of life. This life I live. Rarely do I rest, and I never stop. I am always the person to come to for answers for all others. I have no fear. I am not afraid of anything! At least that is what I let people think, feel, and accept from me. I can not define myself as a fraud. I feel that it is only my business of what I am afraid of. I want to slay the dragon of fear on my own. Well, mostly alone. My husband is the only person that might have a clue. I am the most real with him. He knows my dreams, ambitions, weaknesses and my fears. Maybe even the ones I have not yet acknowledged on my own.

But you, Forgotten, are my most dangerous and frightening dragon. Your fire has not shown its light. Your face is not scary. You keep your teeth hidden behind big firm lips of hopefulness. You make yourself out to be a kind, patient beast. Yet your potential has me shaking in my shoes. Daily. Weekly.

How the media runs the lives of my loved ones, I fear they will not have a physical picture of me to show the coming generations. Although physical pictures have a way of eluding the future, too, I am not filled with the same horror. Without a picture or memento, they will not relive memories. Without memories, I am not remembered.

Forgotten, you are a witness that I live daily for my family. Every decision I make is mostly about them. It does not matter the ages, distances, or growth. I want them to know that I care for them. I love them. I desire to know about their lives. What excites them, scares them, drives them to the next page in life. I yearn to learn goals and passions and be there to hug them when they achieve those.

My passion is to be someone they wish to mimic, copy, and be like. Their hero. You see, heroes are legends that never die. They live on in the memories and stories for generations to come. That is my goal. My passion.

My tools to defeat the memory slashing dragon are contact, creation, time, photos, laughter, assistance, mentoring, goals and dreams, and the presence of me.

I plan to keep in contact with those I wish to be held in high regard and significance. After connecting, I will be creating episodes of laughter, fun, exploration, and talks. Some short talks with long walks. Some long intertwined conversations about love, life, family and feelings. Maybe a little wine thrown in to enhance the release of burdens on adult responsibilities, if only to be replaced by laughter for a minute. Time can be our enemy or our ally. I desire to make it my friend. I don’t waste, but cherish, time spent with people I care about. This creates my presence, wisdom, knowledge, photos, and assistance with both of our dreams.

Finally, but continuously, I am going to chase my dreams and passions for finances and my version of success. This will show everyone that I am not afraid to reach them at any age. I will show them they can, too.

Take that, Unmemorable and Forgotten! I will be remembered! I will achieve illustrious, heroic status! Your unseen fire will not burn me away. Your sharp, hidden teeth will never take a bite out of me. You will be slain. You, my fearful friend will be laid to rest at my feet before I am laid to rest at theirs.

Respectfully Not Yours,
Rebbecca Reynolds

(Style score 61%)

Dear Fear,

You creep in shadows, whispering low, a voice warning me not to show the love I hold, the truth I bear, instead to seek healing in God’s prayer.

You paint the world in black and white, warning me to hide and not to fight. You say the way I love’s not right. That I’m standing in darkness instead of light.

But Fear, I see your twisted game; you thrive on silence and grow from shame. You feed on doubt and plant despair, yet I refuse to live there.

For love is love, and I will be free. No hate can steal my soul from me. I won’t shrink back or hide in disguise. Rather, I’ll meet the world with open eyes.

So go ahead, lurk and loom, for I’ll fill the dark with light and I’ll bloom. I will face your storm with strength and a love so fiercely bold and true that not even you can break through.

Goodbye, Fear, you’ve lost today. I choose to love. I choose to stay.

Sincerely,

Me.
Style Score: 100

Hello Fear,

Do you remember when we were both little girls, and you told me that all chandeliers are haunted? Or after I saw the movie Jaws, all forms of water, including my shower, would cause a shark attack? Or if I didn’t list every single person I cared about before going to bed, they would die (that might have to be a letter to OCD)? You are a silly little prankster, aren’t you?

Although as I got older, your tricks became more mature—therefore, more daunting. You have a powerful voice that becomes overwhelming. Everyone hates you. You won’t succeed at anything. You can’t break up with your abusive boyfriend. You can’t speak up. You are a disappointment. You are so consumed with me you can’t move. I am stagnant. 

I had anxiety levels that could power electricity. I could barely speak in the home I lived in. I struggled to make friends. I couldn’t stand up for myself. This caused me to stay in situations that perpetuated more fear. A terrible feedback loop. A fear-back loop, if you will.

I could never understand why I let you have all of this power. You crept into every single area. The weight of all of your thoughts was so heavy that you were crushing me. I couldn’t lift myself up. I couldn’t climb out.

I didn’t feel fulfilled. I didn’t feel happy. I didn’t see a point in living. You pushed me around so hard; I didn’t think there was a way out. 

I kept asking myself, what is the answer? What should I do? I will do anything. After years of asking these questions, therapy, and online help groups, I started to put the pieces together. 

I am the only one that can save me. I am the only one that can change me. Fear isn’t someone else, but a part of me—therefore I have control.

So, I did what I never thought I would ever do in my life. Run towards you.

I did something that scared the living shit out of me. A live storytelling competition. The reason for this decision was because one of my fears was the fear of being perceived. I needed to tackle my fears one by one, and this one was the starting point. 

It was in front of a large crowd. Contestants don’t know when they are going up to perform, and they get ranked immediately on a scale from 1 to 10. 

When I got to the venue, I was shaking, dissociating, and panicking. As I was watching the other performers, fear got louder. It was the loudest you had ever been. You are not good enough for this. These people are so much better than you. You are going to choke. You don’t know what you are doing. I looked at my friend at that moment and said “I don’t know if I can do this, I think I want to go home.” Fear almost won. Key-word is almost. 

At that moment, my name was called. It was my turn. I was up. Everything stopped. Time froze. I couldn’t leave now. I thought that the fear would kick into high gear, but you didn’t.

In fact, I heard a new voice in my head. One I had never heard spoke. She was kind. She was gentle. Uplifting. Motivating. I didn’t know who she was, but she told me it is okay. You got this. You are just doing it for you and no one else. Just do it to show yourself that you can. Prove fear wrong.

And then I went up there. 

I don’t remember all that happened. I blacked out. I think that is a trauma response. 

But I do remember how I felt. Euphoric, fulfilled, so incredibly proud, and above all else—confident. Never in my life would I have expected myself to feel confident up there, especially because fear was telling me I would feel the opposite. 

I got off the stage, and there was cheering. A lot of it. I couldn’t believe it. My friend was crying tears of joy. I was shaking with emotion. Not good, not bad, just an overwhelming sense of emotion.

I ended up winning the competition that day. Me. The girl who was scared of anything and everything. 

Fear, you are a tricky thing. You are scary, debilitating, and can cause people to take no action with their life. But, maybe, you are a sign. If I didn’t confront you, I would have never known that storytelling is something I am passionate about and—hell—even good at!

Maybe you are pushing me to be someone I never knew I could. Once I faced you, I saw all that I was capable of.

Style Score: 72%