I am too scared to write. I am too scared to sit down and type something, anything, out. Writing makes feelings and thoughts come out that you were trying to avoid. I am trying to avoid feeling things other than a) neutral or b) happy. I am feeling happy a lot at the moment, actually. But I can sense things lurking and I don't want them to visit me.
I am too scared to write because I feel anxious. I think that's the word that would best describe it. A vague but definite sense of almost panic. The fear of what happens when I do that, or this, or when I sit down to write. What happens then? What is lurking in me that I don't want to feel?
The truth is I know exactly what is lurking in me. I know where it's coming from, and what it's about. But I don't always want to confront it. Not now. And that's what writing does, if you let it.
I am too scared to write, but I wrote this. I almost confronted feelings. I certainly faced a fear. And that's enough, for now.
It's funny, the way something so irrational can get all up in your head.