Fear is a liar.
She won’t fool you outright; she twists half-truths.
She’ll sneak in when your heart says
“Risk. Chase the wind. Follow your dream.”
Ever so subtly, she’ll begin whispering
“you’re probably not ready.
You’re not qualified.
What makes you special?
Don’t waste your time.”
She starts small and weaves her way in until, ultimately, the safety of doing nothing feels like home.
But we were created for more.
What would happen if we learned to tune her out?
Fear may ask,
“who are you to try?”
and I’ll respond,
“who will try, if not me?”
Effort is the antidote to fear.
Instead of assuming the worst, I’ll assume that I can.
Instead of worrying, I’ll try.
I will try, I will try, and I will try.
With my feet hitting the pavement, I can’t hear her voice.
*not sure of original author, was a poem on cloth in a wallet I have*
