Shiver In My Spine

Fear can be described in many ways, but as most dictionaries put it:
“a distressing emotion aroused by impending danger, evil, pain, etc., whether the threat is real or imagined; the feeling or condition of being afraid.”

Fear is one of the greatest tools known to mankind, but is mainly known on the basis of being a weapon. It’s a weapon that was never given an official name and isn’t official recognised as a weapon. But it is the psychological equivalent of an atom bomb, capable of destroying hundreds upon thousands of lives in the mere mutter of a couple of words.

Fear is the voice on the other end of the telephone, saying “I know where you live”, fear is the bump in the night that makes you wonder what it was, and fear is what keeps you from looking into the dark, to forever discover shelter in the light. Fear is instinctive, one of our most primal recognitions, it’s that alarm in your head saying ‘not to go there’, and it’s the pump the fuels adrenaline into your body, making your heart beat so loud it drowns out your thoughts. Fear varies, whether it be standing up in front of a crowd to give a speech, or fleeing from a knife wielding psychopath. It tells you to stay away; it does the handy work of the mind, being the minds manager making sure nothing harms it. So it gives you a feeling of apprehension, making you aware that you are in danger of coming to harm, it doesn’t matter whether it be mental or physical, and it will attempt to stop you.

Fear is so abundant, mankind has even categorized it, simplifying it down to ones most dreaded fear, varying to a fear of open spaces, known as Agoraphobia, to a fear of spiders, known as Arachnophobia. But what I ask is what the name for a fear of time is. The undying fear of what’s to come, the fear of what tomorrow shall bring.

For my fear lies here, I find myself up at the early hours of the morning , not going to bed to when ‘late’ becomes ‘early ‘, and night becomes day. For my fear is a subconscious fear, for how can one avoid time, numbers with meaning attached to them. But it’s better to say that I fear change, for one’s own world to warp beyond recognition. I did not learn this until recently.

For I wouldn’t be able to comprehend how my world would collapse in on itself and regrown as something else, all within a year.

Looking back I thought that 2007 would be a lucky year, a year I would never forget, and I was right about one thing at least. Within that year, I fell through a door that accelerated my artistic skills further ahead within less than three months, than I had ever improved with the previous decade. My ideal place of refuge was blown out the door, in the processes I lost memories that had multiplied and spawned as inanimate objects. My kingdom of refuge was torn away from my grasp, for I was never to set foot in it again. My fear began to multiply with the feeling of utter dread at the start of a new year, a new beginning, a new person . . .

A new Fear.