I was afraid for neither had I wings to fly nor my own two feet to walk in--- never without the support of overbearing hands which held my every move, anticipated my every thought—caring they were but learning I could not do. I was afraid that I could account to no more than this for I was dependent on the way that my life that was lead even though there was a tug that has been increasingly distracting and harder to ignore with each passing day that I near independence. I was afraid I would not learn for I was told that I was always scared. I was afraid that they were right, that I am what they said I am and not what I think I could become. I was afraid and I was hesitant for what flowed out of my hands in the words were not mine but of a created self that I have to assume when I am in the sights of others. I was afraid that I’d always be afraid for it had always been the role that I assumed although there were times that I never truly was afraid but rather just excited however I have tricked myself into thinking that I was… afraid… very afraid… ever so afraid… And then I realized that the only thing I was afraid of was the fact that I could not release myself from the imaginary prison I’d had assumed that somehow I had to be afraid.
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