Guest Post: Fear and Punching
Note by Melme: Today’s post is a guest spot by my wonderful husband Aaron over at The Star-Crossed Writer. We were both kind of agonizing over what to write today and decided to swap. So, go check out my crappy excuse for poetry and then peruse Aaron’s backlog. He’s really very good. And with no further ado:
I’ve been thinking about what it means to be alive, lately. When I was a kid, I didn’t have to think about that. Every day was filled with simply living. So why is it that with age comes questions? Questions like “What am I doing with my life?” or “Will this cheeseburger really kill me down the line?” or “Should I shower today?”.
I didn’t have to worry about the cheeseburger, for starters. They were delicious. Something that delicious could not be bad for you, or so I thought. About 180 pounds and 20 years later, I’m not so sure anymore. Showering also, was a non-issue. I could go at least a day before I smelled like outside. Now, I take the extra time to lock the door and BAM! I stink of dirt and grass.
The biggest of those questions is also the one that is the most stupid. What am I doing with my life? I’m living it. I have a tendency to feel guilty about not living each day to the fullest, like I should be out bungee jumping over shark infested waters while simultaneously juggling newborn puppies. Man, what a rush! God, how fucking scary! I’m not scared to live, but I refuse to let someone else dictate just what that means.
Most of my life has been governed by fear. Fear of failure, fear of what others think, fear of being myself. To truly live life, one must abolish fear. Only then can we really begin to see what it is that makes us happy. With that being said, I think I need to take a shower before my wife gets a whiff of me. I’m afraid she’ll punch my arm. Again!