S'more Freaky Thangs...

Slit. Cut. Gash. Pierce. Incise. Score. Slash. Kill. Knives can do that. The idea of any of the aforementioned happening to me makes me fidget on the edge of my seat and I feel nauseous. I hold a knife, my heart beat accelerates and the tips of my fingers tingle. One would suppose after two years of compulsory home economics classes (which meant a non-negotiable two years of handling of a knife), I would have gotten over it. But I fear, that when I'm old and weak, wrinkly and shrinking - I may not be able to feed myself. 

~

The dramatic make-up and face paint, the exaggerated facial expressions, their outlandish acts - all were designed to entertain. Clowns are entertainers. Or at least to some they are. People pass the fear of clowns off as a "growing-up phase" - it happens to every kid, and it goes away, they say. I'd like to think that at seventeen, I'm no longer a child and I doubt I'm growing anymore either - so let me tell you: it doesn't always go away. 

~

I used to forget how old my brothers were. The fact that we were born one year after the other didn't help much, despite how basic the math skills required are. But I haven't forgotten once since the first day of grade eleven, for it was the beginning of Matt's senior year. My second and last sibling is ditching me for the wonders and magic of university, back at home in the States. I'm afraid of the inevitable feeling of loneliness, and then I'll have to admit to myself that one could actually miss the most sarcastic and frustratingly annoying brother of all time. 

~

Play hard, work harder, try your hardest - that's one thing my parents taught me. You need to look like a total fool in front of people sometimes - that's one more. And like most parents, they taught me and my brothers to have high self-expectations. So I do. I'm about to throw another cliche in your face, by the way: you have more, you've got a lot more to lose. And with high self-expectations, you've got a lot more to be disappointed at. That's a fear that sleeps deep down inside me somewhere, and every now and then it decides to wake up and make me breathe a little faster than usual. 

~

Assuming you're a writer, I'm positive this is likely to be one of your top fears: writer's block - permanent writer's block. This, for me, doesn't mean not having the time to write due to a full-time job or a lack of stationery. It means having all the physical means to write, enough time and of course, enough words, but not an idea in your head. And even if there's an idea, not a single choice of starting word that will satisfy your picky creative mind. And even if there's the word, everyone knows that a word does not make a story. Imagine the agony of your desperation to quench your literary thirst. It is a form of great and never-ending pain - and that is something to fear. 

The End

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