Shadows of the Mind

The Weight Of Fear

The Weight of Fear

I wake up every morning with a knot in my stomach, a gnawing unease that I can’t shake off. It’s always there, like a shadow lurking just out of sight, waiting for the right moment to pounce. Every step I take feels like I'm walking a tightrope, suspended high above a chasm of doubt and fear. The fear of failing.

People say that fear is a motivator, that it drives us to achieve more, to push our limits. But for me, it’s a heavy anchor, dragging me down, paralyzing me. I can’t remember when it started, this fear that has come to define me. Maybe it was that time in high school when I didn't get high score in a test I thought I had aced. The teacher handed back the papers, and there, in bold red ink, was a grade that crushed me. I still remember the heat rushing to my cheeks, the fear that  everyone might judge me or look down at me.

Since then, I’ve become my own worst critic. The thought of failing again is unbearable. It’s like a door that slams shut, trapping me in a small, suffocating room where every mistake echoes endlessly in my mind. I avoid risks, not because I don’t want to succeed, but because the idea of failure is too much to bear.

I envy people who can shrug off their mistakes, who can say, “Oh well, I’ll do better next time.” How do they do that? How do they silence the voice in their head that whispers, “You’re not good enough,” every time they fall short? For me, that voice is a constant companion, reminding me of every misstep, every flaw, every imperfection.

It’s exhausting. I can’t just live in the moment, can’t enjoy the little victories, because in the back of my mind, there’s always the fear of the next failure. Even when things are going well, I’m bracing myself for the inevitable crash. It’s like living in the eye of a storm, knowing the winds will pick up again at any moment, ready to tear me apart.

I try to tell myself that failure is a part of life, that everyone fails at some point. But knowing that doesn’t make it any easier to face. The fear is too deep, too ingrained in who I am. It’s like a scar that’s never fully healed, a reminder that I’m not invincible, that I can be broken.

Some days, the fear is manageable, a low hum in the background that I can ignore. But other days, it’s all-consuming, a wave of panic that crashes over me, leaving me gasping for air. I want to be free of it, to break the chains that hold me back, but I don’t know how. How do you fight something that’s a part of you, that’s been with you for so long it feels like a second skin?

I wish I could say that I’m working on it, that I’m taking steps to conquer my fear. But the truth is, I’m still afraid. Afraid of trying, afraid of failing, afraid of what might happen if I let go of the fear and just… live. It’s a vicious cycle, one that I don’t know how to break.

But maybe, just maybe, acknowledging the fear is the first step. Maybe one day, I’ll wake up and find that the knot in my stomach has loosened, that the tightrope isn’t as narrow as I thought. Until then, I’ll keep moving forward, one cautious step at a time, hoping that I can outrun the fear that has held me captive for so long.

—Lady_Perrila