Fear. Phobia. Whatever you want to call it. What are your fears? I don’t know mine yet, or should I say, I’m not really sure. All I know is that I am definitely not afraid of heights. I can go innumerable rounds on a gigantic rollercoaster or dare me to bungee jump, without thinking twice; I’d leap with unrestrained thoughts. Water? I’m not a good swimmer, but I can swim, just like a normal kid who had a “forced swimming lessons”. So I’ve got no problems about sinking into the depths of extremities. Fire? Show me how to light a cigarette without it then maybe I’ll try to think of myself being a pyrophobic. How about failure? Rejection? Maybe. But you know what, when you get used to such situations involving the things you thought you’re afraid of, fear would automatically be disregarded. How you feel, see, and perceive things will change. You’re not afraid anymore, but tired and somewhat deadened. Right now, I know I am afraid of something. Maybe growing old alone, or death, or ghosts perhaps. Not sure. Yet I am aware that fear is somewhat wandering around my system, trying to make a deal with my senses, while I sit here struggling to heed every warning that could possibly come along. But hey, whatever. I’ll just let the god of fear do his job. Scare me.