Discipline

I've been mulling over a story idea lately. It would be kind of an amazing one. If only I had the discipline to actually write it. I can't tell you how many stories I've started, and then gotten too bored with to finish. I'm not so much bored with the story as I am with the reality of WRITING the story. Even short stories seem to be beyond my abilities.

Anyways, the story. I've been mulling over the meaning of fear quite a bit lately. What fear is, how it affects us, how it shapes our lives.

I've been looking at my own life, and seeing these fear shaped holes that I've created. They're not external forces, crafting my reality. These holes are simply the negative space that I haven't put anything inside, and their borders are composed of fear.
I was thinking about this reality as I walked through my spooky fucking backyard after dark last night, carrying my load of laundry. And shining my flashlight in every corner of the yard, imagining serial killers shadows looming everywhere.

So, fear, and the way it shapes our lives. And then I got to thinking about how those shapes, as we feed them more and more energy, become more and more real to us. My fears have changed over the years. Anxiety is an issue that runs in my family, and the older I get the more I can feel it looming on the horizon. But anxiety is a vague sort of field, fuzzy and inconsistent. Fear, now. Fear is much sharper, more real.
And I wonder what would happen if the energy we feed into these hollow shapes started to take form based on nothing more than our perception of it. My fear of a werewolf creeping up through the vines on the cliff in the back of my house every time I go to do my laundry creates a werewolf shaped hole creeping up those vines, and eventually, creates a werewolf.

This concept is absolutely fascinating to me, our crafting of reality around fear. I want to write this story around it, give it meaning and truth.
Stupid lack of discipline. I can't even finish a blog post corre...

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