Fear

This is the second story I've written for my Senior Project. I've had the idea since last year, and I wrote different versions of the first paragraph a few times, but I never finished it til now. I didn't really expect it to be this short until I actually started working, but I think the length is appropriate.

I may update this later if I proofread it again.
I'd greatly appreciate comments!

Written in May, 2006.
A little less than two pages, single-spaced, in Word.
Deviantart Mirror.

Fear

At that moment, I knew something was different. The pavement was hot on my back and the sun was burning through my eyelids. I could faintly hear sirens somewhere in the distance. But none of that really mattered. In fact, nothing mattered. I could do whatever I wanted now. There was nothing preventing me, no little voice in the back of my head telling me to be afraid or to worry. I smiled.

This wasn’t a transformation or an awakening.

There was nothing symbolic in what was happening.

There is nothing.

And when you know that, when you really know it, you can be free.

* * *

I collapsed onto the bed. The paper fell out of my hand and lay still on the sheet a few inches from my face. Finally, after several weeks, the fear had subsided – finals had been taken, grades had been assigned, semester reports had been printed – and I lay there with four A’s at my side. I sighed. What a relief.

For now, I guess.

After all, I only had a few days until my internship began, and then I’d have to worry about that. It would be a lot of work, too; of course I could handle it, but that had never been the problem. It was that underlying worry that I might fail; that feeling of impending doom. I also would worry about my coworkers. I would have to be nice, as I wouldn’t want to make them mad or hurt their feelings.

Damn it, I thought, I told myself not to think about that. But it was too late now. That serene feeling of relaxation was gone, and nothing could be done about it.

I pulled myself up and squinted through the brightly lit window at the crowded quad below. Students shouting and smiling, generally glad to be done. I turned back into my dim room. My roommate had already cleaned out most of his belongings, but the room was still cluttered with my junk; the school was kind enough to let me stay in the dorm for the duration of my internship.

I rubbed my eyes and slowly ran my hands back through my hair. I couldn’t rest now, not with the “impending doom” on my back. I needed coffee. I leaned forward onto my feet and headed out the door.

I jingled the keys as I made my way to the parking lot. I had work to do soon, work that I needed to do to the best of my ability, and that thought took a lot out of me.

I stopped. Why did it need to be to the best of my ability?

I reached my car, unlocked it, and sat down inside. Why did I need to work so hard? Well, I’d always worked hard. That’s just “what you do.” I’d missed out on a few things; being popular, going to parties, having a girlfriend… I’d never had time to do any of these things.

I snapped back into the real world. Coffee. I needed coffee. I was getting in one of my moods again, and I had to suppress it. I started the car and pulled out of the lot.

Was it worth it?

Shit, nice job suppressing it. But really, was it worth it? Was I happy? Had all this hard work gotten me what I’d wanted? I was successful, that was for sure. Straight A’s had accompanied me all through high school, along with a plethora of extracurricular activities. Every college I applied to had tried to win me over as my application made is sound as though I’d save the world. And being kind and respectful to everyone had always helped boost my image and make a few friends. No matter what I felt on the inside, it was always best to put up a façade of happiness to brighten others’ days.

But did this make me happy? The work had been a pain in the ass, and going to a prestigious college didn’t make me any happier; in fact, it meant more work.

I flew by the coffee shop. I hadn’t realized it, but I was speeding.

What was to come after college? More work. I’d work my ass off in college to get a good job, and work there to get a better one. I’d have to work up until I retired, and then there’d be nothing left to do but waste away my hard earned money while I waited to die.

I pulled onto the freeway. Where was I going?

Being kind to others hadn’t helped me either. I always had to bite my lip when someone said something that offended me, as I didn’t want to be mean. When I got depressed I would never let myself appear so, and so no one could ever help me. In fact, I hadn’t really made friends; I’d made associates. Nobody ever knew who I really was because I never revealed my true self. I was too afraid of hurting the feelings of others.

Fear. It was fear.

I was too afraid to fail, whether academically or socially. Or at life in general. But, because of my fear of failure, I had failed. I failed to be happy, I failed to do what I wanted, and I failed to live my life.

I was in the fast lane, zooming down the freeway.

What was so great about success? Why did it even matter? Why did anything matter? I’d spent so much time trying to plan out what would make me happy that I’d forgotten to be happy. I’d come up with so many factors that contributed to my well-being, but really, none of them mattered. I was a smart guy. I knew what would make me happy. Why worry about all the little things?

I sighed. I took my foot off the petal and the needle began to drop – 90, 80, 70…

Right now, the key to happiness was to lose all fear. Without fear, I’d be free to live my life however I wanted.

I took a deep breath, and swung the wheel to the left.

I couldn’t even hear myself scream.