Fear fear stories

jessreider Video games and oxford commas.
Autoplay OFF   •   a year ago
A piece I wrote about my dangerous relationship with fear and self-loathing.


I am a conduit for pain and heartache. I allow it to flow through me like rapids or like the way you tear into me and don't apologize. I question my worth the way you question your tie.

I am not prepared to say goodbye but goodbye is nagging at me, screaming at me, laughing at me. Like you laughed when I told you how it hurt.

You laughed and I cried and isn't that just kind of our curse? To push and pull. To laugh and cry. To wonder why the fuck we're still even trying this? They talk about days never-ending.

Love endures all things. They are liars. They are men who put pen to paper without ever having put fist to heart. Your fist on my heart now, cutting up my circulation.

I would ask you to stop it but you need it. You need me weak. I am told I'm intimidating. Tell that to the vicious characters in my sleep. They are not so intimidated.

But you keep me weak because I cry and pout and question myself and question you and we all know how much you hate questions and I press, even with your fist on my throat,

even when I don't think I can. I press. What you call intimidating I call brave. I call that the matriarchy and I call that the women who taught me better.

To demand better, even if better is not a choice. And I beat my chest and chant my warrior's song but I am weak. I am the chest cavity giving way to knuckles and pressure.

I am the tired log that snaps at the river's might. I am the laughter in a dark room, menacing. But I am not menacing. I am not brave. I am not here to intimidate you.

I am the wave that touches the sand and retreats to the safety of a blackened ocean. I am fear embodied and I am so, so tired.

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