I stand at the edge of a fragile line,
Between solid ground and empty air.
My heart skips a beat and then another.
A fearful "what if" lingers on.
Each step back, a relief
From the precipice edge where fear and doubt meet.
I'm grounded by fear, though I yearn to soar.
A fragile balance between courage and fear once more.
A few days ago, during a discussion class, I was asked what my fears were and the only thing that came to mind was height. For as long as I can remember, I've always been afraid of heights, irrespective of what form it takes.
I get very cautious whenever I'm in high buildings, hills or any landmark that has a deep slope. Somehow, I've made it this far in life without any tragic encounter with heights.
However, when I gave the response “fear of heights” during the discussion class, the class coordinator urged me to face my fears by visiting more tall buildings and the like. “What could be the worst that could happen?” She asked. “If you fall from the height, the fear ends and if you stand strong and encounter more heights, the fear ends.” From the coordinator's speech, the light seems to be at both ends of the tunnel.
Would I take this advice? For the moment, I would say no. It could be that a part of me isn't ready to face this particular fear just yet.
Image generated by Meta AI.