Dear Phobias,

Dear Phobias,

I wish I could tell you to fuck off. You barge me from mastering things. I have to leap over you to reach my goal. You’re always in the way.  If I tell you to piss off, you won’t, will you?

Looking at it from your point of view, I get it. You want to teach me to be strong – to be brave. You want me to get over you, and carry on with my life. But I can’t. I’m too scared to even try. Yes, I dream in my head the day when I’m not scared anymore, but I can’t force myself to do it.  Why? Why do you have to be my weak point? Yes, no one’s perfect, whatever we may like to think, but . . . you make me fragile when I have to face you. No matter how much I stand there screaming mentally for you to fuck off, you just don’t budge. Then I spend many clocking minutes raising my morale to build a barrier up and trudge my way past you. I realise it’s not as bad afterwards, but I’m all shaken up. If I had had another choice, I wouldn’t hesitate to take it. You’re unbelievably stubborn, popping up everywhere. You don’t care if I’m alone or not. You end up humiliating me, embarrassing me. All I’m waiting for now, is the day where I suddenly go, you know what phobia, you can go fuck yourself cause I’m not scared of you anymore.

Yours Faithfully,

2 thoughts on “Dear Phobias,

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