In the absence of fear lies nothing. No great triumph or reward. The absence of fear is white. Blank. Beautiful. Stark.

In the chaos of fear is apathy. Anger. Sadness, grief and the like. The chaos of fear is red. It’s dead. But a zombie, because that bitch never stops looking for blood.

In the preliminary of fear is joy. Fear does not yet exist for you. Your first breath, your first love. You haven’t been yet hurt or over-handled. The preliminary of fear is pink, I think. Or lilac, a soft heart attack.

The aftermath of fear is defeat. It’s broken dogmas and lost faith. It’s the breeding ground for new fear and it’s black. Like a starless night.

Fear herself is a slave. She feeds on the promise that she’ll control you. She fattens up from your sacred prayers and is watered by your scared tears. Fear herself is a kaleidoscope of color. Mesmerizing but malevolent, violent and dangerous.

I’m well versed in fear. Though if you know me, you might be surprised at this. I sleep with her, eat with her, I’ve even thrown a Leash on her.

And now, she hisses at my feet.