This weekend, I told a man that I had no fears.
That was after we went out for frozen yogurt, and I suggested we wear birthday caps, and then I told the cashier we were celebrating my birthday, and she gave us an unexpected discount, and I felt so guilty for lying that I made us go outside.
And a month ago, I went on a spontaneous roadtrip to Vegas, where I told all my friends the same thing. I have no fears. Eyes got wide and people responded, "Really?? None?"
And yet, at one point in my life, I was diagnosed with Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder. You know, that one thing that war veterans get when they've been so exposed to extreme danger that their brain electrocutes with FEAR and thereafter triggers at even the memory of the experience. Fear. So much fear that it causes mental paralysis.
And now, that girl is saying she has no fears?
Well, I do lie sometimes. On accident. Purposefully.
But really, I don't know. Fears exist, sure. But I feel more control, I suppose. One who is standing on the edge of the shore, observing the crashing waves and the endless darkness would certainly fear it. But one who has fought through the waves and darkness and made it back to shore would no longer have any reason to. Fear is a perception of threatening darkness in the distance. But if the darkness has torn its way through you, there is no threat left. Only the trust in one's capabilities. So the source of the fear doesn't cease to exist, but the feeling now attached is
A bird sitting on a tree is never afraid of the branch breaking,
because her trust is not in the branch breaking, but in her wings.
Upward and onward,