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

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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%

This is a letter to my fears, the ones who’ve taken away so many years.

I’ve lived with self doubt, so now I have so many “what ifs?”
I’ve missed opportunities thinking “I’m not made for this.”

The fear of rejection, so I didn’t try the things that I would’ve excelled in.
The fear of trusting others, so I held all of my traumas within.

The fear of getting hurt again, so instead I caused others pain.
The fear of sober thoughts, so I was a slave to Mary Jane.

The fear of gaining weight, so I would purge every meal.
The fear of being myself so who I showed wasn’t real.

The fear of not being pretty enough, so I was always insecure.
The fear of being alone, so I chased those who didn’t want me anymore.

The fear of disappointing others, so I became an overachiever.
The fear of God not loving me, so for a while, I wasn’t a believer.

The fear of not being good enough, so instead I’d hold myself back.
But God took away all those fears, so now there’s nothing I lack.

My fear of taking chances meant I’ve lived with a lot of regrets.
Now, I confront my fears and always strive to do my best.

style score: 100%

I feel you. I carry you in the pit of my stomach, in the depths of my mind, in the restless nights and the silent moments when it’s just me and the weight of everything I’ve been and everything I fear I’ll never be. You are the shadow that clings to me, whispering truths I am too afraid to face and lies I am too willing to believe. You terrify me because you are not just about not knowing—you are about what I already see in myself.

You are the fear that I will wake up one day and realize life passed me by while I was too busy blaming everything and everyone else. That I will see my potential in ruins, my fingerprints on every broken piece, and realize the same hands that could have built something beautiful were the ones that tore it down. You remind me that the people who hurt me have moved on, built lives, succeeded—while I stayed behind, willingly bound by the chains of their actions and my own self-sabotage. You force me to confront the possibility that I have been my greatest enemy, betraying the little girl I once was when she needed me the most.

You make me wonder if I am worthy-if my children will look up to me, will I ever be someone my sisters can be proud of? Someone I can be proud of? You haunt me with the thought of my children looking at me, disappointed, and saying the words I already tell myself in the quiet moments: that I failed. I let life slip through my fingers-allowing my pain to define me instead of fighting for the life I deserve.

Fear, here’s what I need you to know: I hear you, but I will not let you win.

Yes, I have made mistakes and blamed others when I should have taken responsibility. Yes, I have hurt myself in ways no one else could—by not standing up for the little girl who needed someone to protect her, to love her, to believe in her-But I am still here. Still capable of change, and the ability to rewrite the story I have been telling myself. And that little girl? She is still inside me. She is waiting, not with anger or judgment, but with hope—hope that I will finally show up for her the way no one else ever did. To fight for her, love her, and honor her pain by refusing to let it be what defines her.

You are my fear of wasted potential, but you are also a reminder that I still have it. If I didn’t, you wouldn’t exist. You wouldn’t hold so much power over me. The fear of failing is proof that I still care. It means I still have something worth fighting for.

So, Fear, I see you. I feel you. I acknowledge you. But I will not let you dictate my life. I will stumble, and I will fall. I will make mistakes, but I will get up. I will try—and I will keep trying until I become the person my children, my sisters, and that little girl inside me can be proud of. Not because I am perfect, but because I never gave up on myself.

Thank you for reminding me of what’s at stake. Now watch me prove you wrong.

Sincerely,

Me

(100% style score)

 Dear Fear of Mines, 

                       For so long I have let you hunt me in ways unimaginable; I can vaguely remember the first time I met you. Throughout the years, I have noticed how strong you have become and set up shop in my subconscious. Who would’ve thought the fear of failing or letting down your family could be motivation? Remembering growing up having no cares in the world, then coming of age seeing failures around me. Image being the first to accomplish basic things in the family, but still being lost in the curse. Being consumed with complacency and bottom tier means of life. I remember like yesterday being told by family and friends that i was different and chosen. Even after they said that, I still didn’t fully grasp the statement. Even at that point in time was the fear, not at its peak for me. You instantly stayed closed and waited for opportunities to capitalize. Seeing my mom struggle and understanding the struggle was a big turning point for my fear for years. I know you became your strongest when my kids were born and the direction of life changed massively. Through all the turmoil and downfalls, that fear played a big part in how I view choices and situations. It was a fear unlike me not wanting to swim in large bodies of water or being in high places scared of heights. I was able to overcome those two fears, but you are another monster that plays a different role in my life. The reason I won’t allow you to be my fail point because it would provide a negative and unwanted display of failure to my kids and loved ones. You have directed me to take a journey least traveled standing on my Faith in God. 

                                                                                                                      
    Sincerely, 

                                                                                                                      Maurice Cox 

Style score 100%

Dear Fear,

I want to say I don’t know who you are, but we both know that to be false. You scare the living daylights out of me. Make me forget that I’m in charge. But I believe I cannot control you, so I’m at your mercy. Anger comes to my aid, trying to thwart or deter you. It works for a moment or two before you grab hold of me once again.

If I had it my way, I wouldn’t keep you around. You hold me back from new experiences too often. But how can I be so callous? You are also my protector when danger approaches. You give me energy and you point me toward my desires. These mixed feelings bring much confusion. Maybe that’s all part of the plan! How can I remove you when I also need you?

No matter how strong my desires are, we cannot get rid of each other. So let us coexist. This fear of failure or imperfection has driven us to succeed in ways we never imagined. But it has also crippled our creativity for half our life. Indecision became a byproduct of you, among other things, such as procrastination and self-criticism. How are these to help us? If we are to thrive together, then I must learn to accept you for who you are. The same applies to me. I desperately need to accept myself. Only then can we work together. Without acceptance, I am left with resistance.

Looks like we’re going to spend more time with each other now. I’ve taken you for granted, as well as myself. Appreciation is the remedy for that. But I doubt my ability to do this. Maybe that’s your voice, reminding me of the importance of this mission. Resistance is futile, right? We will figure this out together. I can still feel a fear of failing. But I suppose that tells me I’m still ALIVE.

Much love,
Kelly Anne

Style Score – 100%

Dear Death,

On November 18th, 2023, I came home late from work and proceeded up the steps to the front door with exhaustion, looking through the window expecting to see nana on her recliner. I routinely expected her warm smile, but the eerie stillness of the air met me instead. I dropped my bag and keys clinking on the counter, I called out, “Nana?” -voice trembling with foreboding. Scanning every room looking for family, but came to nothing; routine quickly abandoned. I finally came upon the bathroom door me and my grandmother shared. I creaked the door open to a scene time won’t erase: a butcher knife lay abandoned on the sink, blood scattered across the mirror. Turning around, my heart sunk as my eyes adjusted to the scene. Nan laid still in the bathtub, water tinged with red, her gentle face pale. Overwhelming horror seized my heart, a memory frozen in sorrow, innocent eyes witnessing unbearable pain. I found life shattered like the silence. I screamed as if releasing despair’s symphony. A low tremble rose to a piercing wail. Time warped — seconds stretched into eternal nightmares. On November 18th, 2023, you took one of the most important people in my life, my grandmother.

Death, you travel with so much mythology, inspire fear, cause pain, but don’t even have the authority to make a simple trade. I know all of your sentiments and the poets spend their time trying to understand you, but I know exactly who you are: you are the very opposite of my existence. I hate you for accepting invitations and whispering lies into our ears and savagely interrupting the innocent and young by your cold and icy grasps. You rob the world of promise, laughter, and untold stories, leaving only echoes of what could never be. You are the very definition of what rots in the ground, yet you haunt my mind every day. You would keep me up at night, scared to close my eyes and see the mess that you left that night, with no slight understanding of how much she meant to my soul. Do you collect my tears as a trophy from what you’ve gained as a result of what I’ve lost? How greedy of you to keep people in separate places – worlds apart. It’s not in human nature to bid farewell. And that’s why I feared you because you will continue to take because that’s all you do is take, and take, and take. You take, and we eat up all the pain and we swallow it and I have the nightmares and cold sweats about her bleeding out, and it’s how you take- no closure, no goodbyes, no warnings. This is what you are, a monster that lives in the dark and patiently waits to disrupt our world.

I’ve learned many secrets through my grief. Through faith, my Father will heal my heart from the damage you caused. You stole countless memories yet to be: you ended earthly life but began God’s eternal embrace. I will join my grandmother whole, no grief- only reunion. Your temporary win, His eternal victory. Once permanent, now defeated. Jesus’s blood stained your dark door- unlocking heaven’s gate. You stole temporarily: He restores eternally. Your sting neutralized. His love remains forever venomous to your claim. God is death’s conqueror. You are merely a shadow preceding Gold’s glorious rebirth: your darkness only highlights His eternal light. And one day I know I will be with her again because nothing can separate a Christian from God’s love. But if I am reminded of how much pain that courses through my body when I think of what you did, I am reminded of how much love I had in my heart for her. I’d rather remember love and endure the pain than not know love at all; it’s a pain I’ll embrace forever. And one day there will be no more you and no more pain. But for now, we come to a standstill and I say to you: I accept you, and when it is my day to come, I know I will truly accept you because my Father will be on the other side. This is the faith I carry. You cannot scare me forever. And I will not let fear lead my life. I will live for her.

Till we meet one day, Allison Collins.

Style Score: 100%

Dear Fear,

Throughout my life, you have always been there. You were there when I was born, watched even when I was being strangled by the umbilical cord around my neck, yet I survived. You have been there when loud noises would startle me. My growing fear was that my parents would leave or become deported. I felt I would fall off from the bike as I rode it down the sidewalk, but I managed. I would fear I would have no friends at school because I was brown, and I was different, yet I had friends throughout my school years. I had feared that I would fail school because I would feel dumb all the time. Although I still dread the day that the world seeks to attack me. People can use any minor mistake or word against me. I feel dumb and stupid like I’m not worth being heard. I just don’t think I fit into this world. I dread the day my poor choices earn me condemnation, making me feel incapable of ever doing right. In a Mexican household, insecurities are often the subject of jokes, which make me feel even more foolish and mocked. There is a moment where I question, Will you be quick to judge me or understand me when I say that I’m talking to a married man? I fear I may become a home wrecker, but I didn’t want to see someone die, and suicide is not something to joke around with unless you are careful with what words you say. I don’t understand why I had talked to a married man, but let me explain. He was going through some problems. I felt like he had low self-esteem. He reminded me of myself when nobody listens to me, and so I will listen to what he had to say. I don’t know why, but his wife and her mere presence stung my aurora from the very day I encountered her. She was strangely too nice. Almost like I could tell she was not a nice person and as if she were portraying herself as someone she wasn’t. Not long do I learn she had been cheating on him with a variety of different men every single day. It angered me because I think this gives women a poor reputation or I would think it gives men an excuse to treat a woman like trash. I couldn’t understand how someone as thoughtful and caring as he could be with someone that treats him poorly. One thing to keep in mind is that this man grew up with a horrible relationship with his mother that would make him feel like he did nothing right. I learned men marry women that remind them of their mothers. It was very condescending of his wife to tell him she wanted to kill herself too, right after he had said it. Maybe I cared too much for people because even then when she said it I was upset for her, but realized it was one of her manipulative and toxic words to keep him. This married man had told me that when he married her, he knew she suffered from bipolar disorder and her mood swings rapidly and extremely change from one emotion to another. Despite loving her, he had said that he never thought it would be a problem in the future, but it appeared he was wrong. He had now decided to divorce her even before he found out from me she was cheating. It’s unfortunate that men like him who suffer from low self-esteem often start making poor choices and start depending on substance abuse as well. I realized something was off from his life, either drinking or smoking. The unfortunate thing is that once they have become tolerant, they find no other way till they succumb to death. It’s the ultimate self-deceiving many see out of the problems they have. Although, unlike me, I have touched no substance abuse. I had thoughts of ending it all. I don’t think I deserve the blessings and I feel like trash. I can never feel like I’m worth living because I fear that the world hates me. How can someone who has always received blessings fit into this chaotic world? Even when this fear of the world hating me reminds me of it every single day, I know this fear won’t win. As long as I’m alive, I keep winning every day and proving it wrong. I would even say I have won a bonus prize because saving two lives a day is worth it.

Style: 91%