Frit.I have days when I'm scared and that's all I am. That my whole life is a response to fear.
I don't think it's an unusual place to be but I accept that it's not good. On a day with some brightness in it I smugly consider myself glad that at least I've realised that I live my life as if scared, but then that makes me scared. My stories here are often concerned with it. I have an 'I'm scared of heights' story waiting in my 'to do' box... but heights are the least of my problems.
There are theories about it I'm too scared to accept in case I have to do something about it.
There are philosophies I salve myself with.
Risks I take. Challenges I persue. Fun I have. Love I cherish.
Then, earlier, when I stood up, I coughed so hard it almost knocked me over. I was reminded that I might well be scared of heights but it'll be the shortness of breath that'll get me in the end.
I'm especially scared of irony.