This Is The Danger That Comes With Being Truly Fearless

tamaralvarez
tamaralvarez

In truth, I can’t remember the last time I felt remotely and genuinely scared.

I’m not bragging. There’s nothing to be proud about forgetting the feeling of being alive. Of actually smiling and laughing without the necessary practice of looking at the mirror to check how convincing it will look on the right audience. And no, I’m not sad.

But I’m probably undeniably and dangerously empty.

It’s like waking up with creaking bones, only to spend the next four hours unmovingly staring at the blankness of the ceiling trying to hopelessly piece together the reason why you had to wake up in the first place. It’s the feeling of thirst scratching down your throat and no glass of water can quench it down. It’s forgetting to feel hungry enough to want something. It’s trying to remember the answers to every question that starts with why.

It is frighteningly dangerous to live in a frightless world.

Fear is essential. Without it, we are daredevils constantly tiptoeing on the edge of mountain slopes unafraid of the soft earth that will pop our bones a thousand feet below. We are shady palms ringing and shaking with pills and hysteria, arms raised high above our heads, mouth screeching for lost time. We are sightless and morbidly toxic that love is love only when it is our fingernails clawing the skin that holds every shattered piece of ourselves together.

We are legs running across highways, eyes focused on the other side of gravel road, hearts pumping faster than the cars that rush by. We are tongues catching drops of tequila, lashing out after every goddamned thing just for the heck of it. We are godless and uncontrollable, sleeping underneath varying sheets wrapped in nameless limbs. We are bodies jumping head first into the unknown.
Because all that we know is that we’ve forgotten how to feel.

That the only fear that you can hold is the terrifying thought that you are a danger to yourself.

That you can’t trust yourself when left alone with ravaging thoughts.

They see your fast paced days racing in your eyes and wish they can live in the same degree of spontaneity that you have. But you really just want everything to stop or at least slow down. It won’t -you can’t. They talk about how fleeting you love but fail to see how much it costs you to leave every relationship you get yourself into because you just can’t keep still even for a moment. You hate yourself for it, but staying will hurt more than leaving.

Stopping to slow down would mean letting your demons get a hold of you. And you wouldn’t want that, would you? TC mark

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