“If you weren’t afraid of anything, what would you do?”
I think the first question to begin with is, “what am I afraid of?”
The first thing that comes to mind is failure. I am afraid of failing. Failing at life. What does that even mean, some people might ask? I’m afraid of not living. Not living the life I want to live. Not running free because society thinks that I should follow certain rules or have a specific role. “Be a wife, be a mum”, they say. What if I fail at that too? Well, no one explains that part.
I’m afraid of not living. Of just existing. Surviving. Well, I’ve come to realise that sometimes, to truly live, you need money. Loads of it. I have smelled the air and the grass here, felt the sun at the nape of my neck, tasted the rain at the tip of my tongue, but I want more. I’m afraid of not getting more. And I always want more.
They keep telling me to be still, but I can’t keep still. There are too many feelings inside me, too much fear. And a lot more keeps getting instilled by other people. They say I should calm down and that life isn’t the way I think it is. How do they know what I think life is? How do they know what I really want?
If I wasn’t afraid of anything, I’d travel somewhere, anywhere. I’d go and smell the air somewhere else. I’d go and dance in the rain somewhere else. Go and experience God somewhere else. I’d go and study in different places, most likely places that I would never dare to dream about. Places that I have to pay a lot of money to go to school. I’d study whatever I want to, just because I want to, because I won’t be afraid that anyone would tell me I’m being unreasonable and unrealistic.
So what the hell does fear have to do with anything? I don’t think fear is such a bad thing, most times. Fear can keep you from acting stupid. But when it is the fear of never getting the things you want, what do you do with that?
Maybe If I wasn’t so afraid, I’d take what I have. I’d take the air here, the schools here, the zoos here, my life here. Maybe I’d be angry again. Angry that I am not doing what I want to do, how I want to. Then fear would set in again. Fear that I might face depression again. Fear that I might hate it here. Fear that I might feel like it’s not enough. Fear that I might be restless again.
I think that’s my problem. Restlessness. I don’t want to be stuck in this senseless matrix of life.
Do you know what I would really do if I was not afraid? Especially if I was sure that I would not fail?
Rob a bank.