Step Back And Look At Your Fears For What They Truly Are

Step away from your fears.

Lay them down on the floor.

Watch them fall from your hands

like a dirty load of laundry.


see it slower.

Change the speed in your mind

to a theatrical slow-motion.

Like a movie.

Zoom in.

Watch closer

as each fear hits the ground

and cascades like cloth

across the floor.


look at them.

See them shed from your skin.

Laying before you.

See yourself.




Staring down at the pile before you.

Looking down upon them:

your fears,

your clothes,

your costumes.

With their different shades

and patterns

and colors

and textures.

Some fears worn thin,

like the blue jeans you’ve worn too much

that say to you, “It’s normal. Play it safe.”

Some fears intimidate you,

like those pristine cashmere sweaters

that say, “It’ll be ruined. Don’t do it. You’ll destroy it.”

Some fears you choose repeatedly,

like those black leggings you own five pairs of

that say, “It’s simple. It’s plain. Maybe I’m too boring.”

Some fears you can’t seem to throw away,

like those cheap sunglasses with the scratches

that say, “It’s inexpensive. It’s cost efficient. It’s the smart thing to do.”

Some fears you put on only at night,

like those tattered bedtime pajamas

that say, “It’s comfortable. It’s familiar.”

Some fears beckon you from the dark corners of your closet,

like those fancy dresses you keep hidden

that say, “It’s too much. It’s too risky.”

Each fear

chosen for a specific event or occasion.

Chosen based on the weather.

Chosen based on the circumstance.

Or the company.

Some fears you’ve worn a thousand times;

the color has faded.

Some you just picked up yesterday;

they’re new, shiny, and thick.

Some fears,

some clothes,

some costumes,

weren’t chosen by you

but were given to you.

By your parents and grandparents,

your coworkers and friends.

And even though you don’t really like them,

and even though you don’t really wear them,

you’ve kept them anyway.


look down upon them.

See them on the ground

below you.

See them for what they are.

Dirty laundry.

Extra weight.

A rag.

A shell.

A layer.

A choice.

And then don’t pick them up again.

Don’t put them back on

unless you plan to clean them.

Or better yet,

throw them all away

and just go naked. Thought Catalog Logo Mark

Write till morning. Work till midnight. Sleep till noon.

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