Live by the sword, die by the sword.
Now replace sword with intellectual debate.
IF you get more than 30 you're paranoid.
If you get 10 or less you're fearless.
People who don't have any are dummies who want people to think they are tough stuff.
I Fear...
[x] the dark
[ ] staying single forever
[x] being a parent
[ ] giving birth
[x] being myself in front of others
[ ] open spaces or closed spaces
[x] heights
[ ] black cats
[ ] dogs
[ ] birds
[ ] fish
[x]spiders, ticks and/or other insects
[ ]driving or being in cars
[ ] flying
[ ] flowers or other plants
[x] being touched
[ ] fire
[x] deep water
[x] just the jelly fish and other lurkers of the ocean
[x] failure
[x] success
[ ] thunder/lightn
[ ] frogs/toads
[ ] my boyfriends/gir
[ ] my boyfriends/gir
[ ] mice/rats
[x] jumping from high places
[ ] snow
[ ] rain
[ ] wind
[ ] crossing bridges
[ ] death
[ ] heaven
[ ] being robbed
[ ] cotton balls
[ ] cemeteries
[ ] clowns
[ ] large crowds
[ ] men
[ ] women
[x] having great responsibility
[ ] doctors, including dentists
[ ] tornadoes
[ ] hurricanes
[ ] diseases
[ ] snakes
[ ] sharks
[ ] Friday the 13th
[ ] poverty
[ ] ghosts
[ ] Halloween
[ ] school
[ ] trains or railroads
[ ] odd numbers
[ ] even numbers
[x] being alone
[ ] being blind
[ ] being deaf
[ ] being old
[ ] monsters under my bed
[x] creepy noises in the night
[ ] bee stings
[x] not accomplishing my dreams/goals
[x] needles
[ ] blood
[ ] dinosaurs
Total: 16
I enjoy having failure and sucess x'ed off. Gosh, I'm a cynic.
Remember
In a faded day that was once glorious sunshineáß¡¦
It is that twilight between night and day.
At the bus stop.
At the outer crust of a large city.
Not much to look at:
A dilapidated house slumps across the street
In front of my bus stop bench.
ItáßÑÔ an ugly abandoned cheap wreck.
The windows are boarded.
The door is unhinged and open.
Weeds are tall and well assorted.
Garbage litters the lawn.
Every time I pass it I wonder áß¡¦
I wonder why it still stands.
One would think itáßÑÅ be knocked down
To accommodate the urban sprawl.
A black shiny Mercedes creeps in front
Of the deserted house.
It stops.
The door opens.
A well-dressed man with a briefcase
Exits the car.
He waves the car away.
The sleek car drives away.
There is an odd quiet,
Interrupted only by a soft breeze.
His face was a mixture,
the expression traitorous to category.
Extremely hard to describe, words slide.
It was so pensive, yet sad, yet calm
Relief is thrown in.
There is even a speckle of amusement.
His face turns fully to the house.
He is a rock.
The world stops for him.
Yet the wind swings the rusty gate.
Silence, so rudely punctured by that gate.
Trance is broken.
Two uneasy steps forward.
Pause.
The gate opens as if to beckon him.
His polished shoes glint in the sunset.
Leaves and debris float in the wind.
Everything is so golden.
The advance is measured.
Consciously slow up the front steps.
He is the shadow áß¡¦
Disappearing into the dark doorway.
The bus comes.
I ponder áß¡¦
Out of sight, but not out of mind.
won't be on as often.