The Fear is Cold

by Shawnong

Emotions are planted as seeds.

Hate. Started out as a small lump of indignation, but grew in size overtime. Often times this particular species quivers out pretty quickly. Fizzed. Gone. Sometimes, however, it can take root, and spread its grasps deep beneath the surface. Strengthening its fortitude every extra second you let it bathe in the rich concoction of your mind. The easiest way to eradicate it is, let go.

Pride. The seeds vary in their sizes. Some are small, some are big. Maybe someone dropped off a casual compliment and you inflated it more than it meant to be. You opened the gates, you let it in and enriched it with the fertile soil of your minute victories; feeding it consistently and unabashedly. It grew. Its voracious hunger could never be sated. It wanted more. And it grew. Its back grew thick and rough; its leaves grew thick cuticles to protect their own interests. I guess you could work at it to remove it now. But it is that much harder than it would have been to close the gates.

Fear. One day you looked into the mirror and stared at yourself. Stared hard at yourself, stared right into your own eyes and you saw an overpowering darkness. A darkness that could have had consumed you on the very spot. A darkness so dangerous, a darkness so cold. The fear was cold. He climbed onto your back, inching his slimy grasp up your ankles then your calves, behind your knees, slowly up your hamstrings your bottom your lower back it is climbing up your spine at the nape of your neck ENOUGH! The fear is cold and you carry him around like your shadow. Going about your daily routine, shouldering the weightless burden of a heavy emotion. But remember, it is only because you allowed it.

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