If there are four elements, you are my fifth.
Somewhere between the earth, fire, water, and air,
You are the salt that makes everything better.
You fill my empty spaces and surpass limitations.
You are the substance that cradles the stars.
You are the essence that holds the heavenly bodies.
Even the planets would call you perfect.
You could heal and cure and outsmart time.
My “quinta essentia” and the best of your kind.
I look at you and only see God’s handiwork.

Style Score: 100%

Dear Fear,

I see you. I always have, but since my daughter was born, you’ve been a lot less subtle about pushing your way into my head.

A long time ago, you told me that with my own poor mental health, I would be just like my own abusive mother. I believed you for the longest time and thought the only way to stop you was to never become a mother. It took a long time to realize that letting you control my life like that was the only way to guarantee you would always win.

Now, I have a person who makes me want to be better and gives me faith that I can break the cycle. I have my daughter now, but with her I only won the first battle and not the war.

You still show up like a stalker in the night. I see you in my lifeless, tired eyes in the mirror. In the shrillness of my voice when I yell at my crying baby, I hear you. When I have to put my baby down and walk away during a tantrum, I feel you in the tension of my muscles. You whisper, “See, I told you. You should never have become a mother. Now you are just like her.” And for a second, I believe you. I believe that one day, I will hurt her. That one day, I will see fear in her eyes when she looks at me. That I will be the reason her spark fades.

But you’re wrong. I am not my mother. I make mistakes and I am growing. Breaking a cycle does not mean I will be a perfect mom every time. What separates me from my mother is that I am seeking help. I know that my actions and choices are not okay. I want better for my baby.

Fear, I’m not saying you are a bad thing. You remind me to keep trying to improve. But you will never win because I will not let you keep me from loving motherhood and enjoying every chaotic second.

100% Style Score

My dearest fear—

Food, I am sorry for how I have treated you over the years. I have been told you are divine but my wants have always been elsewhere. Your presence always felt unconventional to me, which is why I kept my distance. Yet, I know I need you.

I’m defeated each day by the hateful things you caused to be said about me. Someone recently commented on my appearance, saying I look too thin — is that a compliment? I know now we need to come together, separating ourselves from the words spoken about how we need to be. The rules put on us are not laws. I will no longer let the negative thoughts of you win.

I say now; it is my best interest to find peace between us.

I find when you shape-shift into cold chocolate chocolate chip ice cream; you give me chills of joy.

Or when you warm me up with exquisite spices, in a delicious broth, with long, perfectly boiled noodles. 

I feel at peace with you in these moments.

But — I do not always trust you, and this brings me fear.

Though, I want to give you three reasons it is so hard to have trust in you—

1. You are always shape-shifting. 
Every time you are different. My life lacks consistency; please show understanding.

2. You do not always satisfy my needs.
When you interest me, it is only for me to try and face you. I wish you could do something to draw me in.

3. You cause more damage than good at times.
You multiply my fears. Why can I only have certain kinds of you without the thought of illness?

Maybe now that you know why I fear you so, I can find a way to trust you — at all times. I will learn everything there is to know about you. I will face this fear the world has gifted me with.

I have love for myself — this is why I need to face you.

Forever, I have asked so little of you. Now — I will ask for more.

Best,
Hannah Light

P.S. My best friend and I both have ARFID. This photo is us sharing our comfort food, french fries, on the subway to her house in NYC. It was taken by our friend sitting across from us. We did not know the photo was being taken at the time but we now call it our favorite photo, because anyone with ARFID knows, when you feel safe with the people around you and safe with the food, no matter where you are, it will feel like home.

ProWritingAid Style Score: 83%

Long Time No Feel, Fear:

I wasn’t sure of my response and/or reaction once I faced you again. Would I shyly overtly gaze while deflecting the awareness of your presence, or would I cower in my spirit as I’ve done many times before, allowing the paralyzing effects of you to make me run away and be silenced?

Writing this letter to you seems like an out-of-body experience. It’s amazing how time can heal all wounds, especially the residues that have sat in the crevices and recesses of my heart, mind, body, and soul.

For 45 years, I’ve allowed you to keep me hidden and silent about what others may say or how I look to other people. Fear, there’s no escaping the fact that you were a blanketed companion of mine that kept me safe from confusion, abuse, shame, lies, abandonment, and whatever else life has thrown at me.

I vividly remember our first real encounter on my 6th birthday with the Cabbage Patch Kids theme. Surrounded by my mama, cousins and friends, that day was to be one of the best days of my life. My dad was in his shop working, but it wasn’t any surprise to him that he wasn’t attending.

Once everyone left and Mama was cleaning up and asking did I enjoy myself, she said under the same breath that we needed to talk. Overly excited and giddy, I just knew there must’ve been more surprises that she had for me. Although, nothing could’ve topped this day in my world. She brought over a picture frame with our family photo inside that has been sitting there since I could remember.  She flipped over the frame and handed me a photo of a beautiful, small-framed woman that shared my smile and eyes.  

I looked at “mama” and she said, “I’m not your mama this is your real mama.”  Tears overflowing, I cried and apologized for being bad and talking back to her.  She smiled a little and sat beside me and said, “it has nothing to do with that. You need to know that this is your real mama.  She passed away when you were two years old.  Also, the lady at the church that you say is always looking at you with tears in her eyes is her mother so that is your grandma.”

In that moment, Fear, you remember you held me up even with everything running through my mind.  I questioned who was I?  I was inconsolable because what’s real and what’s fake if this picture has been sitting up there this entire time?  What does passed mean, is she coming back and needed a break from me?  Is my daddy my real daddy and it’s that why he’s not around me much.  My grandaddy who preaches is my dad’s father but is he even my real family?

It was so hard in that moment to grasp all I’d been told; but most of all hidden truth unveiled on my 6th birthday.  The next few days, I heard “mam” begging my dad to take me to see my real mom grave.  She said, “this will always be a special place for just you and your daddy.”  Still so many questions, exhausted from all the information in such a brief time.

Eventually, I began to decipher who was blood-kin to me and who I’m known to as their stepdaughter, step cousin, stepsister and just friends.  Once the exposure of the hidden truths, I found out that after my mom passed that I stopped talking until about aged 4 or 5 years old.  Now that I think back, you have been with me before I even knew myself.  I’m sure that’s why you’ve hung onto me so dearly as a protective mechanism that pacified me as the years trudged on.

As you well know, this year marks my 46 years around the sun and I’m feeling good. I’ve been on a spiritual journey that has allowed me to heal responsibly in every area of my life.  You can let me go now, I speak from my heart as a conqueror.  You are recognized as my shadow and a teacher; but there have been times that you have groaned louder, more insistent, and very controlling.  You are a constant reminder of what has hurt me, and it has shaped my decision-making and created procrastination within that I let go of.  You are released from hovering because I have a grasp on life and all it entails; you will no longer define my path.

Sincerely, 

My Soul’s Memo

General Styling Score: 71%

My dearest fear,

It seems strange how you can appear before me. You come up with just the right words, even tones, to make my mind spiral into little crumbles. Yet here I am, sat in front of my typewriter, clueless about how to confront you. It’s not an occasion that pops up often. A person’s first instinct isn’t to stop running, just to turn and face what terrifies them at their core.

You can mock me, even call me a poet, but it’s the only way I can crack open my heart right down the center. Fear you don’t haunt me, even though most would say so. You break my heart, starting at two pieces, ending in shatters. I wish you haunted me because it’d be mercy. The heartbreak is torturous to me.

When you fill my brain with thoughts of potential failures, results in my gut wrenching sobs, enough to fill the entire ocean, it doesn’t end until my eyes burn red. I hear the laughter of people who enjoy my lows in life. They view me as their personal circus animal, there to cheer them up with my sorrow. I listen to the disappointment in my loved ones’ pained voices, hoarse from all the pain they’ve had to release from their tortured souls, all because of ME!

Yet you can’t really break me, couldn’t keep me stuck like glue. It burns fury in your heart, thus a war breaks out. A war I would have never imagined in my wildest dreams. I will tell you fear. They lied to me about you. They told me if I faced you, it would be the end of the fight. Now, deep down, I guess it’s not the truth.

Once the dust has settled and I’ve turned my back, you throw your first knife straight into my heart. In pure shock, I grasp at the handle to pull it out. You take the advantage and strike me with your second knife while I’m kicked to the ground. In this exact moment, I learned that fear you are not a fair fighter, even worse, a sore loser.

I couldn’t back down just like this. Had to give it my all and attack right back. I won’t let you mark my brain as your personal battlefield. So I build the strongest shield to deflect your knifes of destruction. I build a catapult to throw stones of positive. Last but not least, I build an unbreakable brick castle to act as my safe space protected away from your fear tactics.

It’s over. You’ve lost the power you have over me. You crumble and fall to the floor. Understanding your reign of terror is over. You look over at me, shock in your eyes, piercing mine with the question “how”. With a smirk on my face, I declared to everyone that I would never quit until you were defeated. Now the sound of applauds grows louder and louder while I realized I won the battle. I’ve grown to know fear is a part of you. Deep down in your heart, you control and demand fear.
(100% style score)

To my fears,
You’ve dictated most of my life. You emerged from my mom’s protective nature of her only child, and outside factors that snowballed your strength. I speak about you in therapy all the time. You’re a part of me I wish wasn’t so large. I’m grateful you’re there- you’ve saved me from reckless decisions. But I wish you didn’t have such a tight grip on everything else. Sometimes you take over my psyche so much it becomes paralyzing. I never want to get rid of you, but I want to reduce the amount of strength you have over me. I’m creating a balance with you so we can start living together- our dynamic hasn’t been sustainable.
 I’m understanding you more through my sessions. The OCD diagnosis gave me an understanding of why I was afraid of my speaker exploding if I left it charging overnight. Or that every trip my mom made to the store would be her last. Watching tragedies on the news fueled you more than I’d like to admit. I avoided movie theatres for years (now one of my favorite pastime activities), and I couldn’t sit in class without thinking of where to hide or exit if a mass shooter barged in.
 I shared your thoughts with my friends and family. Their reactions told me I was a paranoid person (so the diagnosis wasn’t surprising). My therapist has helped me realize that I’m having a stagnant existence. I’m not living my desires or goals, I’m not living quite at all. I am afraid of everything, and of things that haven’t happened yet. I’ve been in survival mode this whole time, and I didn’t even know it. I want to live, and I’m learning how for the both of us.
 Speaking out about every thought you deliver to me has helped beyond words. No matter how much the logical side of me clashes with you. Saying the words out loud doesn’t make it real, but it helps me slowly filter them from my subconscious. Therapist, the loveliest lady, appreciates you coming out to ring the alarm bells. She reaffirms what the logical part of me has been saying. But we aren’t disregarding you. We are evaluating where you are coming from, and if it is strong enough of a reason to stay away from something. And we’re grateful for you being so protective of me.
 
I go to the movies all the time now. My nerves still get a little high when it’s a packed theatre, but I buy tickets near an exit. I tell mom to drive carefully when she goes anywhere, and to pause for a moment before going through her intersection. Those few seconds of delay can save anyone’s life, including hers. I’m not in school anymore, but I’m relieved to be going to big events when I see security surrounding the area. Mom and I went to a parade downtown for Christmas, something I’d never thought I’d do.
 Google’s my savior, too. I learned that many devices have protections to avoid overcharging, and will stop when a battery’s entirely charged. Looking things up when I’m afraid of them has become a superpower. It’s not just the two of us all the time now. And as we’ve learned, you grew a louder voice than I did. My new ways of coping with you had never put you at ease completely. But it’s definitely helped, and that’s the one thing I can guarantee. Thank you for everything.
All my love,
Mercy
100 style score

Fears not welcome here

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

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

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

Fear comes like a behemoth growling loudly as to eat us

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

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

Fear is not welcome here

As I remember praying is one of my lovely passions in life, praying have been part of my daily routine, and I love the fact that I can do it anywhere, at any time, for any occasion, for different purposes, I love to pray because for me is a connection with God.

I love to pray because it is a disconnection from this stressful world and it is my space to unwind and practice something meaningful that warms up my faith, spirituality and gives me strength to continue fighting in my daily life.

If I had to choose one thing that I love to do among the other things, it still be of course pray, I can’t live without praying, because gives my daily portion of love, compassion and faith.

I am glad to have the privilege of being considered a praying woman. I have a profound praying spirit because my passion for praying is unlimited. I never be tired of praying because it is my peace when I feel stressed, confused, sad, angry or lost; praying solves my problems; God put in the work for me and give me the wise solution to my situation.

I love to pray because through praying; I give to God the responsibility to solve my issues in his great wisdom. I love to pray because gives me a sense of purpose and through praying I can find my divine calling.

I love to pray because I can pray for others in need; and the best part, I do not need to be present with them to pray; I can do it by myself in my space and still make a difference in their lives.

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

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

(Style Score: 100)

Dear Heights,

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

Yours truly,

Michael Delianides

Meeting with Terror

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Dear Unsealers:

I start each day with something brewing. Literally.

I rip open the bag of tea and pour the hot water in my cup. As the cup steeps, the aromas reach my nose. Scents of Jasmine, Bergamot and Peppermint take hold. I open the box of tea and see so many options, with bags having a specific color assigned to them. It’s like the pot of gold at the end of the rainbow, right down to the black and gold embossing on the Harney and Son’s box.

But the cup of tea matters to me more than just simply having something warm in my body on wintry days.

In each cup of tea that I brew, I feel a sense of peace. I do not get started on the litany of reschedule case requests until I finish my cup of tea at my desk. Otherwise, it’s the sign to everyone that I’m taking a moment for myself.

The cup of tea, as is, is enough for me. I don’t add milk, cream or sugar to it. I don’t make it sweet, except for a drop or two of honey.

Having tea as a part of my day goes back a long way.

From my college days, when I would pop into the Starbucks around the corner from John Jay College’s campus to order a cup before class began. To my first taste of my favorite type of tea, Jasmine Green during afternoon tea at the Athenaeum Hotel in London in October 2012. At my previous job, I would go to markets and bodegas to bring in multiple boxes of tea to have a range of options over the course of the work week. This ritual lasted for my eight years of employment there.

The cup of tea has made a comeback in recent days. From spending my birthday last December being with pots of tea at the Warren Street Hotel. To the boxes of tea from Palais des Thés that my friend Umara gifted me for my birthday and Christmas gifts. The Advent Calendar had a bag of tea for every day that led up to Christmas Eve. The green and gold box added a dose of holiday spirit to my desk each morning.

I’m so grateful that I decided to re-introduce this ritual to my morning routine.

I need to find my moments of peace when I can in this hectic world that we live in. Having a cup of tea in the morning helps toward that goal.

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

Signed,
Fearless

Oh fear,

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

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

False

Evidence

Appearing

Real

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

(100% style score)