Fear

There's something that I've been dancing around recently. It's not just my thesis (that ancient beast) or my interaction with a lovely young woman. Nor is it my writing, although it is inherent in the themes of my work, buried under the surface. I have a fear, an unusual fear, but it's one I need to confront.

I'm afraid of being happy.

I have no problem with serenity or comfort or joy. But actual happiness, it terrifies me. I'm afraid I won't be motivated any more if I'm happy. I'm afraid I'll forget all the things that are important to me if I'm happy. I'm afraid that I'll become complacent toward a beautiful woman if she ever decided to be with me.

That's nothing new. What is new is that I'm willing to fight that fear. Why should I keep myself from being happy? If I'm happy, doesn't that mean I've reached the goals that are important to me?

So no more keeping myself from what I really want. I'm going to be creative, I'm going to find a nice girl to hang out with. I'm going to have the things I want, what few of them there are.

Now, I've just got to figure out how I'm going to do all that.