I have an intense fear of heights. For instance, when I look up at a water tower—from the ground, mind you—I panic a little bit just imagining myself standing up there. I'm not afraid of falling so much as I just feel like I don't belong up there. Just writing that freaked me out.
I'm a man of irrational fears. Sometimes I'm afraid of writing. If you want to know why I haven't posted here in so long, it's because of that. It's not precise enough to say I haven't felt like it. I have felt like it. But when I have thought about it, I have frozen. I think about writing, about being up there on the internetial platform, and I just feel like I don't belong here. I'm afraid of the permanence of words. Once anything I write is out there, I can't really pull it back. I can never scale back down the mountain.
That hasn't stopped me from writing altogether, but . . . it's stopped me from writing a lot of things. Things I know I should be writing. I guess I've just been afraid to reach the things I really want, feeling like they belonged in my dreams, not in my grasp.
It's so very silly.
