Fear

And let it be known, I’ve said with my actions, That I do not make good decisions.

Pleading belief with their eyes, yet a shrug on their tongues, “She has a good heart,” my loved ones have always voiced the excuse that I wouldn’t utter for myself. Truthfully, I didn’t think that there need be excuses. I never thought anyone was actually watching. Until the day there was one set of eyes, carefully trained upon me.

My eyes were so often downcast, that I thought the world’s were too.

If I can’t see them, they can’t see me, was the subconscious mantra that had wheedled its way inside my mind. I clad myself in black camo, invisible. Blended with the shadows. Or so I thought.

I didn’t know what I was hiding from. Maybe, just…everything. Some people's eyes appeared soft, if mine did happen to meet theirs. This wasn’t one of those times. The eyes I met were intense, curious, playful, yet mischievous. They were the kind of eyes I would normally shy away from, but today, they drew me in.

I wondered now, while analyzing the encounter, if my whole-body-sigh was registered by the other when he placed the package into my hands and walked away. Was the weight of the chains draped around my shoulders so great that on chance they were to dissipate, that it was visibly noted? Did the same go for when my eyes met those whose were not so kind? Not so gentle? Could they see rigor mortis set in as I recoiled deep inside of myself, to turn my skin inside-out and create an exoskeleton to defend against their gaze? Yes, my brain whispered to itself. That’s probably why he had chosen me.

I wondered what exactly it was that he saw my eyes. Fear, it answered again. Afraid of the people, afraid of interacting, afraid of talking, afraid of the open mouths, with jagged canines ready to chew you out with their words. Afraid of the world. Dermal armor plated with spiked-bones had become my daily-ware. Silence, my sword. A downward gaze, my shield. Today I had lowered my shield, and the unexpected happened.

Home now, I looked at the package sitting on my kitchen table. It was nondescript, about three times bigger than your average novel, wrapped in brown paper. There were no tears to tell what was hiding on the inside, so I was left to guess. What could this magical package hold?

“Do you wish to be happy?” the man’s words echoed inside my head. How could any ordinary object be the answer? I wanted so badly to open it, but something was holding me back. Was this my natural, everyday fear getting in my head, or was there something malicious inside? It was hard to tell.

Right now, I am a wasteland of negativity, when I only want to spread positivity. Maybe it was all of the “God-damn Yous” to myself, but somehow, I really did damn myself. A decision whether or not to open a package, shouldn’t be this hard. There’s a prayer in that package that makes me remember hope. But fear buries a coffin, laden with shame, deep in the pit of my stomach. As long as it remains unopened, I’ll hold onto that prayer.

I glance out my kitchen window, at the sunflowers I’d planted last summer in an attempt to bring happiness into my life. Ode to the Sunflower. Oh the Sunflower. Be the Sunflower, I thought to myself. I do want to stand tall, bold, and bright, with my yellow, pointed petals, arranged in a perfect circle of cheerful, forever following the sun to bask in its warmth.

Somewhere along the lines, I packed the seeds of my life up and into a bag, and then I forgot about it. I’ve since then misplaced the bag. Maybe this package is the Universe’s way of returning it to me. For now, I’ll put it on the shelf, and open it when it feels like mine.