Fear. Something that has always haunted me. Always been the dark angel lurking around the corner in my life. I’m walking down a light hallway, candles one every inch of every wall, yet the smallest shadow seems to hold in it the largest demons one could imagine. It follows me constantly. Never let’s go, never takes a break, and never allows me to catch my breath between frights. It’s that voice that tells me not to go there, not to do that, and to some extent it protects me from what could be dangerous. Fear is like an older brother. A long-time companion, always looking out for me, never allowing me to walk into danger. Constantly aggravating, yet slightly painful to let go of. But fear is not my friend. It consumes me. It has caused far more harm to me, then anything I could ever be afraid of. As Napoleon once said, “The torment of precautions often exceeds the dangers to be avoided.” The problematic factor being my failure to understand this when I am afraid. Perhaps the most feared thing I could have imagined is seeking help for my fear. Go to someone and say “ I’m always afraid”. Having the courage to admit I am afraid is one of the hardest things I will ever find the courage to do. Yet I did it. I asked for help. I didn’t want to be afraid anymore. Now I’m better, the fear no longer haunts me. I fear being fearless changes me, but perhaps that change is for the better. So I’ll give it a shot, at least for now. So, this is me, living life unafraid. For however long the courage to do so may last. And if I can find the courage to live unafraid, there is nothing I cannot do.