Hey Fear.
I really wish you were a rational, sensible friend. I wish you would only show up when I am in danger. When the visceral reaction to your presence would be to my benefit. I do not like being frozen in mid- thought. I do not like retreating into myself, pulling the door shut and building the walls a little higher.
I do not like the way you play with memories, unpacking the deepest of the trauma, the embarrassment, the reasons why I feel less than good enough. I do not like the way you weave those long packed away feelings into situations where they do not belong. I do not like the way you abuse my inner child. She should be dancing in the rain, she should wonder at the color of a violet, or the unique beauty of a snowflake. She should not be shaking so hard that I must revisit her trauma. Tend to her bruises or kiss away her tears.
I have done the work; I know that I no longer have to tolerate abuse in my life. I know that I am a work in process, ever evolving and growing. I know that I do not need to be perfect in order to get respect and be loved. I do not need you reminding me of a time when a harsh word, cruel intent, or landed punch came from someone I loved. Someone who said they loved me. Someone who would beg forgiveness, even as their next attack was being formed.
I know that I am strong. I know that I am fragile. I know that remembering can be part of healing. I know that I do not have to relive those days. I bare the scars as a survivor. I am proud of who I am, always true to myself through tears and humiliation. I have given myself permission to heal.
Fear, I do not want to confront you in places you do not belong. I do not want you to fill my days with ghosts of shame and dread. I do not want you to cost me sleep or invade my dreams. I do not want you to steal away my ability to feel the real joy and sorrow of life. I feel nothing in the wake of avoiding the worthlessness you make me feel.
Last of all Fear, I should always feel safe in my body. I am claiming it from you. It is mine and no one will ever force themself or their will on me ever again. No hand raised in anger, no cruel words will inflict pain. Never again will I be a tool for someone’s show of power or pleasure. I have some wrinkles, I’m not a model. I am me, and that’s a pretty amazing person to be.
Fear, I would gladly welcome and claim you in the right places. Where walking in your company means that I am aware and careful. Where the jolt of your presence is a call to attention, to action. You are valid and have a place. Please stay in your own lane.
36%

Dear ____________ ,

It’s been a while since I’ve let myself sit with you.

You come to me in my dreams sometimes. Or, I guess after my dreams, really. Dreams of contentment, passion, stolen kisses. Love. Memories of music with scents of home-cooked meals dance together in my mind while I feel a hand rubbing my back as I stand over a stove. Afternoons relaxing with another after a hard day of work. The bliss of late mornings lying around in bed with a lover. Imaginings of a future that I will never have. But I have to wake up eventually, and there you are.

Abandonment.

I long for a breath behind me, the rustling of sheets, an arm draped over my waist. I remember the warmth of another body, the rhythm of a heartbeat against my cheek as someone held me. Now I just feel cold in the empty bed. I hear only my breath and a sole heartbeat. The lack of connection, no other life in the room. And there you are.

Silence.

I try not to linger there. It hurts to remember feeling safe like that and then the ache as it tears away. I remember the bad parts then. Walking on eggshells, patronizing disproval, feeling like I’m not allowed to talk about my pain. I questioned myself. Never trusting in my own competence and intellect. The constant need for validation and reassurance. The need to feel like someone else thinks I’m “good enough.” I distract myself from you with new hobbies and responsibilities, proving my capability to myself. I still can’t shake that feeling, though.

Rejection.

However, I must tell you; I’m moving past you. Day by day, I feel my spirit coming back, though it is still so tired. I am learning to love my solitude. I feel the freedom and independence that comes with it. No need for permission to start a task or make a friend. No longer questioning and second guessing my every action. I can see a future where my confidence shines. Where I walk into a room and people feel the calm that I radiate. I will see a task and know I can complete it. See a person and offer to stand by them. Find love that accepts that I am a whole person.

I’ve made art, so deeply moving, I could never have shown you. I have learned new concepts and philosophies that you could never comprehend. I transformed my home into a sanctuary, a place reflecting my soul’s effort. I’m learning that my body is worthy of real love and care. That I am worthy of love and care.

Someday, abandonment will become a reclamation of myself. Silence will be peace. Rejection will be resilience. I will heal the fear of rejection, of abandonment, and silence in my future. I will work for the confidence to ask for help when I need it. I will make my own happiness.

More than anything, I hope to one day love myself. To finally and truly embrace being-

Alone.

Sincerely,

Mickel

Style score:100%

The fear is the worst feeling on the world, it paralyzes you from reality and it’s an obstacle to achieving your dreams and desires, I hate you fear from keeping me away to become a driver.

I don’t know if that happen to you, but for me driving it’s been in my wishlist for so long time, and the fear is the responsible to procrastinate this until the end, I’m really tired of having the desire of learn to drive and have my own car, but the fear is pushing me out of achieve it.

My fear of not be capable of do that is killing my self-esteem, it’s creating anxiety of thinking that I will be never able to learn how to drive, the fear is a fear that finish with all my hopes.

I really want to learn how to drive, I don’t want to be dependable of others on going to the places that I want and need to go, I’m tired of been a pray of the fear, I just want to be fear free and learn how to drive like the others.

I deserve to have a nice car, I deserve to exterminate the fear of driving and gifting me a good ride to myself, I have planned to overcome it with bravery and courage, I need to trust in my abilities and inner force, I plan to learn how to drive soon, the time is flying and I need to hurry up, I need to conquer my driving dreams and take it easy on me.

I need to conquer my fear of learn how to drive with determination and constant practice until I dominate the ability of drive, I need to pay a good driving class and be positive and calm through all the learning process, I need to keep telling me that I can do wherever I want, is just a matter of patience, time and a positive mind.

The fear of how to drive won’t win because I’m greatest of my dreams, I have a strong spirit of persistence and resilience, the fear won’t win this long war between the two of us, I’m focused and motivated on driving this year 2025.

Dear fear

I know we speak often, one would say we’ve become friends. Our relationship has changed so much over the years, I think it’s on the mend. I see you as an invitation now. Somewhere the light is trying to creep in. The shut door’s cracked window revealed a new beginning. You used to paralyze me and you can still have that effect. I remember that I’ve stepped through that brightness. I’ve soaked in the sun beyond any closed doors. You show me my strength, and where I still need to grow, that sometimes it feels like we’re free falling and sometimes that can be excitement if I let it flow.

Hey kid,

I’m so so so sorry.

I know this is supposed to be one of our best memories, our last moments of being a kid

we graduated college this year so it’s supposed to be really good, our greatest event.

My one moment of fame.

But alas, within a minute it’s over , no time for closure. a thing of the past it just doesn’t last. My worst moments fill even our best days.

Mini nightmares coming true …. That wasn’t supposed to be me … or you .

As I sat in that black gown, the tassel overstimulating me, yanking my glasses like a naughty child

I was finally

Walking that stage

But I wasn’t happy that day.

As I looked at the ghosts of friends, I’d supposedly made

I was alone

I’m sorry they missed the event

but not you … not enough to make you feel special … just once

That they wanted to take credit for what you did

Without you

I’m sorry

There was no cake to celebrate

That you’re buying your own to eat by yourself

Along with the alcohol to wash it down

That they’ve got you down on yourself again

Excluded … by your own family

Thats you …. That’s me

But you did it yayyyy….

4 years of a place you didn’t want where you were given more pain than you can stand

Just for a bit of safety

And that

No one understands.

Am I proud? …. sure.

Hard to be proud when you had to do it by yourself and in the end, there’s not even a place for my diploma on a shelf.

Sigh the bad , dare I say worst thing about a winter graduation.

Christmas, which used to be our favorite Holliday,

Turned to hell,

It’s hardest to be proud,

When you’re completely by yourself.

All I know is my biggest fear was once being alone
But I faced that reality through the dial tone of a phone.

Dear Fear,

I sit here, watching 2024 come to a close. I have a terminal diagnosis. 2026 and I will not know each other, but that is not my fear. Death is not my fear.

My fear is bigger, my fear is more existential. My fear is that my half century on this Earth mattered to no one. After I’m gone, people will remember me for a while, hopefully with a small wry smile or a large hearty laugh, and eventually thoughts and memories of me will fade and dim. My fear is that there is not a soul to whom I made a momentous difference, for whom I lit up their passions, or showed how to navigate terrible situations, or acted with love and inclusion.

When I become new dust on Earth, when others sell or donate my possessions, when my scent is gone from the air, and when nothing tangible remains of me, what will happen?

Can we overcome this fear in a finite and miniscule amount of time? Perhaps. I will pursue a legacy of love and laughter. I will smile at the stranger, I will give generously, I will laugh, I will befriend the outcasts of society, a club to which I strongly feel we all belong. I’ll stop putting off my writing goals for when I “have more time”. I have no more time. 

I don’t think my fear can be completely overcome. I will take it with me to my last days and beyond, but that does not mean that I cannot work towards owning and overcoming my fear. It means I must live louder and stronger than my fear. It means I do it and I do it afraid.

Afraid, but not defeated,

Melissa

STYLE SCORE: 100%

( Here I have written a Short personal story about my fear(s), as i advocate in defense for her( Fears-truth). I go in slight detail describing my reasons for seclusion over the years from the many shadow people Ive encountered, portrayed as your everyday modern people, in a town I secretly call “ The City of Masks”. I share with you a view of my battles ( Fear) living within the inner city at Present day moment. Here I reflect through brief examples of time, as we count down the days walking into 2025. May you riddle through the scenes of my lifes Truth, as her called “FEAR”, journeying as you read and feel with your senses and interpret these words from your inner voice processing the imagery as MY thoughts. I also share befriending the struggle of having Complex PTSD, something ive become adapted to because of the fears.

-Enjoy

“Here she comes, and there she goes. Closing all of doors as she walks away from the many liars that were paid actors in her life”. More than often , they were all a test of time, though the wise say time does not exist. If we were to sleep with our eyes open we wont notice a thing, No different to the sight of our skin as we age, like counting each grain of sand as it falls or the lines of wrinkles that appear everytime we blink. Tell it to the gray hairs ive noticed popping up over the years that i wear with pride and take as a medal of honor for wisdom.

Like a samurai with her sword, a dagger of truth is what I tote. For the many silent battles Ive won solving the once hidden riddles of cold cases that were forced closed by the authors of corruption deemed as model citizens hoisting there cursed badges and smug smiles of cracked glass as they marvel themselves with vanity lying to the world. They found joy and solace in baiting the many people i used to know with dirty money, buying a ghostly departure of silence, it became similar to waking up in your home of an open door like a thief had come and gone in the middle of the night. “There words spoke darkness coveting a rouse of death with fear questioning discussions to the pieces of my life, as if I were a large puzzle they were trying to solve like a mobster stationed in an alley way, waiting to snatch you up while walking home in the dead of night… never to hear from them again”. The fear of opening up to the wrong crowd, or a single person troubled me to not converse anymore wondering who sent them depending on the questions they asked like knowing portions to my past as if they came in scripted, this may seem as an intrigued read though this is indeed pure non fiction.

Just like the time in 2021 when a mentalist and his wife so happened to be parked across the street from my house by King Park that summer. He got out of his car and came in a joking manner to ask me to think of a number , hold it in my mind, then add possibly 10 or 20 to that number for him to guess- which he did three separate times to perform his skill to me as a mind reader though he never openly admitted to being such. I smiled with admiration and inclined that that was a God given gift and should be used as a tool to help people for the good and congratulated him as he departed away from me ( In that moment In my mind I was hoping he read my thoughts of the danger in breaking spiritual law with the intent to bio hack the mind for purposes of psychological warfare) “tisk tisk” what a guy. “You never meet people by coincidence , we all serve a purpose when we cross paths in another’s life, even if its a short greeting when walking past, no one ever forgets the beauty of a simple smile”. Lets not forget about the fear I had when i crossed paths with a shape shifting reptilian who eyes flipped under the street light during a full moon.

This figure was a computer tech , hacker , loud mouth bozo who bragged of his Masonic cult ties with a Middle Eastern background. He called him self a poltergeist ( eye roll) , though every time he came by things would fall off my wall or go missing ,lbvs. There was no fearing there in regards to him, again, Its just the thought that there are people with supernatural gifts that abuse them for darker agendas rather than serving the greater good of humanity. They instead find happiness in toying with the vulnerable creating havoc in their lives all while harvesting not only the victims energy, but there ideas and creations, modeling in another’s skin of divinity. “ They are like sharks who smell blood in the deepest ocean , ready to feed upon the fear of those who are trying to survive a life of terror hoping to purify themselves in the bluest water” but beware the of narks ( The definition of a crooked narcissistic police informant) are just the human form of the Great White Shark, a predator of the meek none the less.

All of my years of living i’ve encountered alot of Agent Smiths . Some dont even deserve the notion of mentioning , it would gratify there ploy to be the murderous villain in my life, though me exposing these truths would set her free,…set Fear free. “She deserves that , to be set free from the bondage of being on constant edge, a warrior woman who deserves more than her flowers but a purple heart for her grit and strength that helped amplify my purpose in the thick of it all. “Fear kept the faith strong ,because when she prayed those cries to the heavens turned my tears of waves into Hurricanes that washed in Gods warmth of mercy for my aching heart, but awakened a wrath from the darkness of Heavens universal fire sent to all of the devils children , who took an oath to be puppets to the harlots grand scheme of a dauntless schism of grief .” Once you learn to surrender, Over night it could blow in the winds of change so bold and loud like that of the ” Tri State Tornado”… metaphorically speaking, “Truth will rain in the light of justice in the most surreal way, as if Salvador Dali painted the outcome himself”. Those who played with a badge and cuffs were the ones now being shackled and forced to face themselves in the room of mirrors that shamed them in gruesome chants heralding JUDGEMENT for all of the innocence the world has lost to the egregious acts covered and sealed by those sworn in the manish mens Chambers of Secret.
A sound of lightening would appear to every crack that would splice in each mirror facet for every scream never heard, that was covered by the hands of a crooked authoritative figure lying under oath. Every dark occult would be exposed for shielding the pain with there book of illusions to set free the earth bound souls of those forgotten as they swayed across the fields in the night hoping for a single thought of remembrance by a loved one still living. Even a mother gone would turn over in her grave by the whispers of those murmuring a plot for premeditated death to her children, she will arise as the reaper herself from below to bring vengeance. Even if mother is long gone, she will find a way to come back to let you in on the truth, cause after all… A mother knows”. Wisdom will appear like visions in a dream, Like smoke signals pillowing above in the sky to alert the Chief.

“ My dreams are like warning signs that herald the truth, because my eyes do not lie” i’ve evaded death many times as proof. The deceivers fear my voice when I speak, that’s why they slandered my character and put poison in my food and drink just so i wouldn’t remember a thing. It was an attempt with hope that id never awaken, with a sane mind remembering the words they said before they left, not knowing i knew exactly what it was when they left a dead crow filled with bugs wrapped with twine thrown on my wicker seating as they attempted to hex me and my childs life. I still live knowing the beings of light reflected that arrow of darkness back to the deranged conjurers whose eyes were filled with envy, congregating in there coven of Stockholm abusers pretending to be pro life and believers of divinity. Manipulators of all kinds have toyed with my mental like clans of Jekyll and Hyde showmen, gaslighting my sanity to only strengthen my awareness to sense when I was being tested by being tempted .

They used dirt and bones casting magic from the graveyard and Jar spells from down yonder, “ From the very same place in the bayou where Katrina once reigned in with the karmic wish of death for debt from conjuring with spirits forbidden to Hells kitchen of haitian shadow men and Jinns never heard of… Though i knew them because we battled numbers of many lifetimes ago”. And because i knew, They feared the voice of my truth. They jumped to the quickness to spread lies and gossip. They wanted to be baneful by musing in the image of a lesser god for power, gluttony and the rest of the deadly sins as a way to antagonize my character of knowing in a group of scared satanist harboring there hatred. The light of truth began to pour in the corners of there dim lit rooms where the skeletons they hid were to much to hide that prevented their closet door from shutting.

Just like Fear, she wouldnt let me stay quiet and stop defending what was right. I proceeded in secret going to court while speaking up for my child regardless of the threats of the judge against her crooked cop of a father who lied and denied an unhealthy amount of times , grooming in an attempt to confuse my daughters fragile mind way before she could reach adolescence . This silent war battling fear became wicked because i chose to speak up thus granting me a gift of a lifetime trinket of complex PTSD. A stored memory bank of the repetitive traumatic events and discussions remain dormant casted in the walls of my mind like a vivid mural that moves with scenes like a play back for an old fashioned movie projector . I will never forget the smells, the gut retching pinch in my abdomen at certain cues , the undertones in there voices, neither the action or inaction when emotional support was neglected because of my courage to point out there immoral nature as sexual deviants and unbothered reactions.

The Fear taught me self respect and gave me the push to walk away after all the facts were gathered .“ The City Of Masks” is what I named it after it became clear that i was standing alone in the storm, seeing that the people I loved either stayed mute or jumped ship to defend perpetrators and liars because of the past they had( Being close like Kin as in blood ties) some just fancied them because they were wearing a badge, not really knowing them for who they really were masking inside. “I was too real to honest and too raw for those living a lie, because me choosing the heal as a victim would reveal to them the very things they ran from or hid from the world or perhaps either did in secret themselves .” Even the term “ I am my brothers keeper” shed light to a sworn secrecy of covering the acts of incest and molestation while scrutinizing the true victims that suffered because they feared saying something.Though Fear consumed me like a pit of darkness once upon a time, she became like a friend who saw trouble coming and redirected me at times as my supporter and protector to evade harm right at the knick of time.
Maybe it was just my strong intuition and the dreams that made me react quicker. These are the things one would deem as obstacles and became like weight packs in training that I began shouldering through in a jungle filled with a hazing fume. Fear isn’t all the way as bad as she was made to look, more like a sergeant who taught you how to withstand pain while wading in the swamps as a trait for tactical awareness in the midst of breathing through a panic attack. “The fear helped me to seek faith , which ultimately led me to the light and became my saving grace while i cocooned myself at home creating art about my past lives and untapped findings of self discover. Even creating some of the best written works of writing about my supernatural experiences that brought me to life as i was forced to really go within regardless of it being clear the outside world was crashing with fire and caving in ”.

It all depends on how you look at it, overcoming the shadow side of fear is me writing about my harbored struggles of having Complex PTSD – Something that accumulated due to the repetitive abuse of covert antagonism from the over bearing figures that were staggered and stationed in my life. As well as the psychological torture I endured from manipulative authoritative figures as we strategized a swirl of a quiet war with divination abusers who celebrated at performing a wicked game of psychosis tampering into the dark arts. “There is so much more I could express but it would turn this writing into a broader length of an added 4 page letter of why Fear became my crutch, thus morphing in a beautiful flower shaped like a bleeding heart”. Me and her both know as weve grown together its getting close for us to depart, it feels so freeing being able to finally talk about these burdens that once held me captive afraid to admit my scars. I’ve become like an Orca whale on the roam with her child , ready to be unleashed into uncharted waters, leaving everything she once knew behind… “ Her Fear turned into her Truth, as her eyes looked up and guided her into the blue following the stars from afar.”

Arachnophobia
Dear… spiders.
I know I see with more than two eyes
I know I move so fast
It may appear I have 8 arms and legs.
I know I creep quietly through the night
Through these halls,
Through my life.
But I am not like you, I am no spider.
I may appear so similar,
Until the clutter trips me.
And you approach,
Find me tangled in threads of silk so thin,
But they won’t break.
What wicked webs I have woven,
Metaphorically wrapping around my neck-
Literally-wrapping around my neck.
Strangling
Restraining
Emotionally draining me
How funny I must look!
A spider, clumsily fumbling…
Where it’s food is meant to stumble…
Panicking,
Twist
ing,
Hopelessly
Tightening…
Maybe you offer advice,
Maybe you’ve come to mock,
Maybe you’ve just come to see what others do not,
You see me struggling, fighting for my life,
You see the thread I’m hanging by-
The one holding me together- wearing thin.
BUT…
I do not see you, little spider.
I am merely trying to take a shower, make my breakfast, sit for a moment.
I do not see you at all.
I wonder,
I w- OH MY F*CKING G*D WAS THAT A F*CKING SPIDER?? KILL IT!! JEEZ OH MY LORD F*CKING KILL IT! IS IT ON ME STILL? WHAT?! WH…WHO GIVES A F*CK ABOUT THE LETTER I WAS WRITING- F*CKING KILL IT! GET IT OFF!
OH MY GOD,
GET IT OFF ME! WHERE IS IT? WHERE…? I’M F*CKING CALM-JUST GET IT OFF! PLEASE! PLEASE! PLEASE,
OH MY GOD…. PLEASE… OH…
WHY DOES THIS ALWAYS H…
PLEASE, OH MY GOD…
Yeah, just…
JUST GET IT OFF ME.
Please, I just…
I’m sorry, I’m just scared of spi…
sp..sp..
Spiders.
Are you sure?
Are you sure?
Are you sure…?
It’s not on me still? It’s gone? But did you look really close? Will you just check…
can you…are you s…
Sorry.
You’re sure…?
I’m sorry. Thank you. I’m so sorry.
Thank you…
Anyway, I… I’m sorry.
I um…
I wonder
I wonder what you um…where you are and um…
Where was I?
Stuck in a web of lies,
Tangled in webs,
Feeling like the prey is the spider or…
No, no, no.
No…No. Um…
No.
Well.
I’ll just have to do this another time.
Or I can finish it now but…
I’ll have to think of something different ‘cause
I’ve lost my train of thought.
Yes! That’s it…
I’ll just have to talk to themabout it anothertime I’m sure spiders are quite busy I meanthey have such a longway to walk beingsosmall andall I don’tevenknow howlong it takestomake a web butprobably a while and I know they’re moreafraidofme than I am ofthem I knowthatofcourse I knowI’m so muchbiggerand faster Ishouldn’tbe soupset if theyoccupy sucha tinycorner I don’teven go overthere mostofthetime they’re notbothering anyone overthere they just survive off flies I don’tevenlike flies they’re gross and I just smashthem anyways so whoamI tosay theycantbethere I don’tevenpayrent so I don’treally haveanysay overwhat orwho canorcan’tcomein plus itssocoldoutside so whatever it’s reallynotabigdeal thatthey’rearounandstuff I’lljust try to avoid…
Avoid…them.
Wherever they are.
Anyway… I do enjoy our little chats,
Dear spider.
Friend.
But I must be off
I have a thing, you know
A web.
A web to weave.

77%