Fear Is The Least Interesting Thing About Us

Fear is the least interesting thing about me. One hundred percent.

It is petty, immature, and unoriginal.

It’s list of greatest hits hasn’t changed since I was a kid, because that’s where it gets its ammunition.

I think we can all agree, fear never had a fresh idea in its life.

Fear’s goal is to keep my life small. To keep me safe and sound and boring as hell.

It thinks its doing this for my “own good” but really, that’s just a tired old story it keeps telling itself.

And me.

And I know it’s doing this to you too. I’ve seen it.

We’re all fucked.

Or…what if we confronted fear? Told it to take a seat, or a hike, or a long walk off a short pier?

What if we told it we didn’t need it anymore? That we weren’t eight years old. That we were grown ass adults who knew how things worked—and a broken heart never killed anybody. That a lot of the times failure led to something better. That a life well lived is so much more interesting than safe and sound could ever dream of being.

What if we thanked it, you know, for all of its hard work and overtime? I know my fear could use a rest and I’m pretty sure yours could too.

Carry on,
xox Janet