August 29, 2007
When I talk about fear.
I was standing in line, and I heard the bell chime on the door behind me. I turned to see who came in, never wanting to be caught unaware, and the glare from the sun cut across my face. He was walking in, with his short hair and stocky build. I froze.
I couldn't see his face, but I couldn't look away. I'm sure all the color drained from my face. It took several seconds for me to realize it wasn't him, but even then I couldn't seem to catch my breath.
I haven't seen him in more than six years, and I was sure that this unnatural fear was gone.It's been more than seven years since he has laid his hands on me, yet just the idea of being in the same space as him filled me with terror and dread.
I do not like fear. I do not like to be afraid. So much of my life has been defined by my fears. I could list them, give them all a name, but that would serve no purpose but reminding me of how weak I have been.
This is one fear I will not let control me.
After I left, I started laughing. Laughing at myself for being so foolish, and for jumping at old ghosts. Laughing led to tears, which led to anger. I rolled the windows down and turned the music up and hit the gas pedal, hoping that the adrenaline rush would flush out the fear and anger...and the regret.
It's the little things that remind you of where you've been, where you're going, and how far you've come...or haven't come.
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jktty at 9:55 p.m.