Fear, you’re not welcome here any more

Dear Fear, It has been a rather co-dependant relationship we’ve had the two of us.

Gripping each other in cold dark cinemas. Embracing each other before launching off cliffs.

We’ve spent evenings with our dear friend Red Wine, and debated the pros and cons of bad relationships, of moving out, of moving on.

But the moments when we’ve been most intimate have been before we had to select the word ‘publish’.

Funny that. Such a small thing compared to all of those ‘big’ things.

Why is it that we have clung to each other so desperately when our fingers hovered over that one particular button?

We probably wouldn’t have to have too much therapy, dear Fear, to figure out what it’s all about. I mean, we are friends so there’s not much that we don’t share. Is there?

We know that to put our hearts onto that page and then to present it to another has always made us retreat. Sometimes we sank so deeply that we forgot to look back up.

Well I have news for you fear. It’s over.

I understand that you’ll find this difficult and probably sulk and cry for quite some time. But I won’t be holding out a hand to you again.

Sulk all you like. Hunker down in the corner and glower at me through cold blood-shot eyes. I will turn away.

No matter how pathetic and wretched your entreaties you will no longer find a home in my heart.

No, I’ve decided that you’ve been holding me back. To be honest my closest friends have always told me that you’re quite dominating. They wanted me to plan an exit strategy.

All I had to do was wait for a day when you weren’t home. They suggested I build up my strength a little. Start writing. Start doing. Start being who I am. And then, in that moment of absolute belief I changed the locks.

I don’t want this to be a bad break up. Really I don’t.

I’m sure we’ll see each other briefly at family events, times when I may have to make a speech, do something new.

I’ll be polite. No need to make a scene. But I’m dating someone new now. Strength and I are pretty hot to trot. His whole family is rather enticing, they cook me slow-cooked morrocon lamb and cheer when I walk through the door.

Courage and Belief, Strength’s parents, are particularly welcoming. It’s as if they had been waiting for me.

I really do appreciate the years we spent together. There was a time and place for what we had and I hope you’re not too lonely.

As for me, don’t you worry. Something tells me I’m going to be just fine.


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