When There’s Nothing To Fear But Fear Itself

She said there’s nothing to fear but fear itself. I said I can’t feel my hands and I still haven’t found my keys. I reached into the sky and tried to pull out the stars because I didn’t understand how they were following me. Why is everything so confusing to me?

Does the whiskey drown my emotions or do my emotions drown the whiskey? The bottle ends up empty but the turbulence is never ending. Kind of like the way each blade of grass stands up every second of every day or my heart continues beating. 

I suffocate my ears, but not my lungs, in my bed of lies. Piles of pillows and blankets on top of me muffle out the friction of the world until I blend into the ether. Every aspect of who I am is tainted. I’ve never been able to wipe off those fingerprints. I scrub my skin until it burns, dye my hair, and let needles illustrate the canvas that is my body. But my bones are still the same. My muscles still flinch and my heart still pounds. I’m still that kid learning how to survive. 

That’s why I hate when people tell me to be myself. I am a person made of glass. My feelings consume me. When I am hateful, that is all I am. My blood vessels are hate and they carry my blood that is hate from my hands to my feet. I am these feelings; these feelings are me. 

When I hate, I hate everything. I hate you and I hate me. I hate the way things were supposed to be. I hate the part of my closet that I can’t reach. I hate my pores and my lack of motivation. But most of all I hate the feeling of hate. The fire I breathe out toward the enemies that were my friends just a moment ago. The hand wrapped around my throat. You can’t see it, but it’s there. And the pulsing in my head when my brain is trying to escape its cage, or the way my muscles tighten when they’re bracing themselves for impact. Bracing for the inevitable tears. Because eventually the shaking turns to sobbing but I can promise you I’m not sad. All I am is hate. 

It’s okay, though, because it only lasts until the next one swallows me whole. Maybe until I see that picture on my phone, the one that’s on my lock screen. That picture that always makes me smile. And now I am love.

When I love, I love everything. I love you and I love me. I love the way that my life has turned out to be. I love my house that has everything in it I need. I love my blonde hair and even my brittle nails because they are part of me. But most of all, I love the feeling of love. The warmth and tenderness in my heart and soul. You can’t see it, but it’s there. And the rush in my bloodstream when I’m intoxicated by bliss and I’m floating, or the way my cheeks start to hurt when I smile too big. Smiling without concern for what might happen next. Smiling because there is nothing but goodness in this world. Smiling because all I am is love.

In time that smile will fade, the love will expire and a new emotion will occupy the shell that is me. She said there’s nothing to fear but fear itself, and now I think I know what she means.