I heard from last Sunday's sermon that there was a study which concluded that writing a journal is good not only psychologically, but also physiologically. According to Fr. Baranda, people who kept journals built more antibodies, and generally felt better about themselves. So I decided to pursue writing entries again.

Not a lot of people know that I fear a lot of things. As I managed to construct this solid, uncaring facade, many believe that I am this stronghold that would not budge (or so I think). But actually, there are a lot of things that I really feel terrified about. And I have made some pretty backward decisions in my life because of the things that haunt me. What would most probably surprise most people is that I fear writing. Yes, I have been with a publication for four years in college, and now I am admitting that I indeed fear writing. Not that I cannot stand to write because that is what I am exactly doing right now, but everytime I am tasked to, or everytime I am compelled to write, there is that certain tinge which runs through my neurons. I fear that I make grammatical mistakes, or that people would not find my piece interesting, or the most grave being, that a lot would not get the thought that I am trying to send out. I am more comfortable in editing that I am in writing. As I am typing this piece right now, I have not read the previous lines I have written, in the fear that I myself would not like what I have constructed.

I fear that I might not wake up tomorrow. I always fear that God would get that kick not to wake me up, or any member of my family, or any person that I love. I always think that each morning is a privelege given by God to accomplish something, to fulfill a purpose. However, most nights that I find myself contemplating the day's happenings, I more often feel a sense of dissatisfaction. It's like there are things I could have done better, or have accomplished in general. I am afraid that one morning, God would have run out of reasons to let me live. It's a cycle really, and I don't understand it.

I fear that I am not giving too much of myself to people. I have always had reservations about being too close to people. In the past I have blamed it on the way I was raised. Being at home too much, and not having friends around the neighborhood. But I guess that excuse has run out now, considering that I am an adult capable of changing how she deals with people. I always say that maybe I should have a set of friends whom I can run to, but I never got around to finding 'that' set of friends. Maybe I am not really interested, or I just do not want to share myself. I am a pretty recluse person, and it is not okay that I feel fine about that.

I fear a whole lot of things, like failing in my life goals or giving too much of myself to her only to lose her on the end. I have to accept that I can't spell life nor I can't really say what's going to happen. And sometimes, that blind leap of faith, might just lead me to where I really want to be.


Anonymous said...

Fear, in the biological sense, is a survival mechanism. But instead of fearing starvation or death by brutal means, society has splendidly created the illusion that there is more to fear. The only brutal cycle in this world is the way humans create and consume ideas without intelligent distinction between the truth and the poppycock.