There's nothing quite like the moment when you finally realize what you want, but at the same moment you discover ropes and chains binding you and your heart. You're not quite strong enough to break them, not alone, but dammit you try. You try until it kills you.

There's a bottomless pit below, and though you can't see the bottom you've convinced yourself that what's waiting at the bottom is worth the fall... and yet the strongest ropes are made of fear.

What if there's nothing below? What if you take the fall and shatter every piece of yourself on the rocks below, or even worse, fall endlessly suspended in a terrifying state of never knowing what could be, or what could have been, or if you should have done something different.

The darkness below is unknown, and the unknown is a terrifying place. You never know what could be lurking in the dark, ready to grab you and shake you senseless.

Fear has always been the enemy. It paralyzes us when we should run, makes us hesitate when we should plunge ahead bravely. It clutches at your heart with barbed claws, its grasp unrelenting and merciless and just when you think that maybe, just maybe you've finally defeated it... like a snake it comes slithering back through the cracks in your mind and takes hold once again. Before you know it you're bound in its web and you're not really sure if you want to let go. You cling to those ropes just as much as you fight them.

Sometimes all you need is a glimmer of light at the bottom of the pit. A quiet voice calling out that it's okay, it's safe, that you can let go and not worry about the consequences because they'll be there with you to help you face them. They'll be there to catch you at the end.

Some people are brave enough to break their chains and swan dive gracefully to whatever waits below.

I am not one of those people.

I am a coward. I enjoy safety, familiarity. I have coddled and sheltered myself until I no longer remember what it's like to be free of expectations, of fear. My heart beats in a tiny cage that is six sizes too small. My wings are clipped, broken, battered, and my soul is a hollow echo of what it once was.

How can I expect to be loved if I cannot love myself?

...

Yet this is exactly what I ask for.

I need that spark of light, that quiet, reassuring voice telling me that it's okay or else I will forever be tangled in battle with the vile enemy that is fear.

I ask for understanding, for forgiveness, forlove, and above all a chance to prove that I am worthy of these things

Yet even now, as I write these things, I battle fear.

What if I'm wrong?

What if the only thing below that waits for me are jagged rocks and poisoned spears?

What if the ropes and chains are not fear, but the protective arms of friends, family, and my own common sense and knowledge of the world protecting me from a venom far too corrosive for a fragile soul.

...

I do not know. I hate not knowing.

I never do something unless I know the potential outcomes, unless I know it's safe.

The pit below me is foreign and unknown. Perhaps the pit is fear?

This is the battle I face. Overthinking and twisting words around and around until I no longer understand what they mean. Up is down, left is right, and I'm lost in the twisting maze of my own mind.

So as I huddle here, safe within the blankets of my mind and the stories of my soul, I wait for someone to show me the way. Either cut my bindings, or seal the pit, I cannot choose alone.