I’m afraid. Some days, when I get a moment to breathe—really breathe—and take a break from this chaotic world, it gets scary. Thoughts flood me like an unstoppable ocean, one wave after the next. I thought I was strong enough to lock away old memories and emotions, but they keep resurfacing, like bricks and mortar stacking up over time.

The bricks? Those are the problems from my past—the ones I never dealt with, never destroyed, or resolved. The mortar? That’s time holding it all together, binding it tighter, higher, until it’s like the Tower of Babel—a false hope I cling to, praying no one sees its cracks. Is that why people stay busy all the time? To drown out the noise? To avoid hearing the voice of their conscience? Because let’s be real—listening to that voice is scary as hell.

When I take a moment to look down—really look at my feet—I see what I’m made of. And it’s terrifying. Flaws, failures, all of it laid bare. So I keep running, chasing distractions, pushing through exhaustion like I’m on a treadmill that never stops. Scared. Worried. Always running. But you can’t stay busy forever. Eventually, everyone has to stop. To breathe. And I want to breathe.

The beast is part of me. I can feel its claws wrapped tight around my heart—squeezing, suffocating, like it’s trying to choke the life out of me. It whispers to me. Lies. Deception. Brokenness. I just want to breathe. I need to let it go. But here’s the thing—is the beast really my enemy? Or is it trying to tell me something?

People love to say fear is just “false evidence appearing real.” But nah, my fear isn’t some illusion—it’s real. Tangible. It’s choking me, drowning me, and I feel like I’m slipping under. But I want to live. And to do that, I have to face everything. Let go of the weight.

Maybe—just maybe—the beast isn’t my enemy. Maybe it’s my friend. What if it’s trying to help me? What if all this pain, all these struggles, are its way of showing me something? What do you think the beast is trying to tell me?

Written by Vee Nelly | December 18, 2024