Category: Fears Feb

Another found photo from Alex. It’s an odd photo. It’s hard to make out at first. It’s almost as if taken from the perspective of the ship. I think the strings of gold are ammunition.

She used to be scared of the sea, having spent most of her life in a warehouse. Her first foray into the fleet had been violent and short. But now she returns to the sea, cutting confidently through the water. Strings of shining ammunition hang on her deck like bunting and safety signs are framed like artwork on her cabin walls. The shiny new steal on her side serves as reminder of her wounds. She could have sunk on her first mission, but she had fought her way back to shore. Now she knows she is strong enough.

Today’s is short and true. 

Kindling for my thoughts

Fear runs rampant like wildfire

Thanks Dr Google

Today I got ‘I’m scared that I’m not scared anymore’ from Matt. Here’s what I came up with:

I think they got it into our food with a covert operation. It’s the only explanation I have. One day we ate dinner and suddenly the entire camp was relaxed. The other camps thought we’d been drinking but after a few days they were the same. We have no adrenaline anymore. I used to be frightened of shooting. I didn’t sleep. I felt so anxious that I only ate when I was so starved I couldn’t bare it any longer.

Now, I sleep through raids, I eat while I fight and I shoot without looking. But we are dying by the hundreds, taking unimaginable risks at every opportunity. I’m scared that I’m not afraid anymore. So I’ve come up with a plan. Every soldier that has a picture of family, is to tie it to their wrist. It reminds us that someone else is scared we won’t come home. It sounds sad, but I think the fear is going to help us survive this war.

I was challenged on facebook last night to write a letter to my 5-year-ago-self by Xavier Rousset. 

I’m no Frank Ocean but I’ve given it a go. This is probably the scariest ‘Fears February’ challenge I’ve got so far.

17 year old Freya,

You’re 22 now and you’ve finally realised that the faded, torn Ludo shirt you’ve had since year 9 is unacceptable to wear in public and bought yourself a new Labyrinth t-shirt. But the changes don’t stop there. You call yourself a ‘writer’ now, and sometimes people even believe you and give you money for it.

I read your diary (sorry). You don’t seem to have much self esteem and you have this idea that you are doomed to be lonely. Well I can tell you that you’ve picked up a bit of esteem since then, school turns out to be a hot box where all sorts of nasty worries and hang ups thrive. You’re also not lonely so far, though you’ve had your heart broken and repaired once already.

Despite all these changes some things are always the same. You still worship British comedy. You still have all the good friends you know now, plus a few extras you’ve picked up along the way. And, you’re still scared of spiders, bad marks, leaving formal education, and people disliking you.

Love

Freya

P.S. Don’t run up the stairs at your formal. You will stand on your dress, rip it and flash all your teachers.

Just a short confession today. One of my deep fears for your entertainment:

70% of the earth is covered in it; a whole other world. Full of mysterious under water waterfalls and unidentified creatures. It could be full of beauty and wonder but like most humans, I am terrified of what I don’t understand. The beach is a terrifying gateway and the tide a potential kidnapper.

Stacey admitted her fear of spiders to me over twitter yesterday. Something we share. I am so scared of spiders that daily tasks like walking through this path become terrifying ordeals with bizarre bowing rituals in order to avoid being webbed. 

As most good arachnophobes would know, once you see a spider- it’s particularly important you continue to stare at it. Because the only thing worse than seeing a spider, is not seeing it. So I ran with the idea and came up with this:

Quick! Don’t look away. It might move.

This is fun, a staring competition.

Okay get the traditional weapons.

Oh it’s coming closer. Bring it buddy, you’re going down. I was born to stare.

Please don’t move as I put the glass down.

What’s this crazy forcefield? 

Okay, glass bit is over. Just slide the postcard in gently. Don’t let a leg out.

Hey a gap! I can get a leg out! 

Ew! It’s escaping.

Ouch my leg!

Alright buddy, off to the garden. Where you belong.

Hey, I can’t leave now. What happens at the end of Game of Thrones?

I’m scared. I guess I don’t need this glass. Just throw the whole thing into the bush.

Wow, what a sore loser. I have 8 eyes, I was always going to win.

 

I got a tweet from @DarkMatterzine today about fear of failure. Well you and me both Dark Matter. Here’s my story:

The sky would shatter into a thousand tiny pieces. The grass would catch alight and the oceans would boil. A giant sign would pop up over my head saying ‘FAILURE’, and there would be a daily laughing ceremony with me as the main attraction. That’s how I saw it, in my head.

But when it really happened, when I inevitably failed, something much worse occurred. No-one blinked an eye. Everyone just kept going about their business, leaving me to fester in my own thoughts.

I would have to battle myself. Silence the voice that tells me it’s time to give up. The voice that tells me I am nothing. It was loud and persistent, but I practiced ignoring it every day and now it’s just white noise again.