F

A small voice speaks, barely a whisper, words incomprehensible at first, coming at me from the very depth of murky thoughts. The words bounce inside the confines of my mind, echoing and growing louder, and the voice at once strange and familiar I recognize as my own. I say you are a failure.  Always reaching but never winning. Success: sweet fruit hanging heavy on the highest branches of peach trees, by the time one falls to the ground its skin is bruised, broken and spoiled, much like my dreams. I say falling, you are always falling, the weight of growing up too much of burden for a weak back like yours, never having ripened to thrive in the tough bittersweetness of the world. I say fight or flight? No question there, flee flee, fly away home. Failing falling fleeing. The echoing has reached its peak volume and my eyes go red from a headache. Then another whisper, echoing, gaining strength, coming straight from the heart, and the voice at once strange and familiar I recognize as my own. I say fight the restraints of fear, sticky and unforgiving. Fight for inner peace and love. The sunrise sends rays of warm light through my window to fall across my face as I wake up from this dream of words. I think about falling and fighting. I feel the lure of giving up, but inside me the seedling of optimism is taking root and spreading, the freedom of life suddenly making me drunk with its honey nectar, I will be free from fear. I will be free from fear. I will be free from fear. I hold on to those words and believe; it’s all I can do to face another day.

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