I was sitting in class, reconnecting with some friends I don\'t see often. When my teacher stood up, in a tired but trying voice he asked if I was going to participate in the assignment. He knew it was due that day but at least he cares enough to ask, most other teachers look at you with stones and whips. As if you walked into the room and asked everyone to call you Jesus. I told him I\'d participate “ yea sure ill do it, i need to get my grades up anyways”.
I just said it, I don\'t normally ever get to getting my grades up. I keep procrastinating, or just pushing my “this is the day i get something done” day off.
Anyways he goes on to tell me about the assignment. “ So you need to write an essay about a time you felt afraid, it needs to be 1000 words and…” ect, ect my mind wandered off. What was a time I felt afraid?
acclimatized ptsd took over my mind. I watched flashbacks of my dad, some of my dad happy, Most of them explained why my mom left. No one should put foundation on their neck, so they could get to work pregnant.
. Although it\'s heavy and makes for a great writer, it all felt lived in. like the thoughts filled my eyes and made them heavy. I walked home that day. The wind blew softly, a cloud or two in the sky. It was such a small moment but it felt magical. At the corner of the street I saw a guy smoking a cigarette. His lips were wrinkled and he moved with age.
His clothes are neutral colors. Layered with dust and dirt. The streets were not nice to him, what would he be afraid of?
“Excusme me sir”
I said, I wanted to sound polite but manly, I needed him to take me seriously.
Irritatedly he grumbled before answering
“what do you want boy”
. His voice cut deep with hatred but felt scarily familiar. My voice shakes a bit, stuttering at you.
“ you alright, looks like you\'ve been through the shits”
the man loosens up and laughs a bit. Not that haha kinda laughs but the finally someone sees me, the validation was written on his face.
“Whats your name kid”
I told him my name is Nehemiah and I was writing an essay, just needed a little bit of backstory and something he\'s afraid of. I thought he\'d be willing but his response slapped me in the face so hard I actually tasted the violence. “Man i dont give a fuck about that, whats in it for me”
I was about to walk away, I can tell when I\'m wasting my time.
Yet again it\'s just my ego getting high. Curiosity is like this aching scream inside my ears, and every second I wait my nails bleed, ultimately forcing me to look in my wallet. I only had 25 dollars so I told him.
“5 dollars for the background stories and i’ll give you $20 for the box of cigarettes you have”
Once again, this man\'s facial expressions jump around, while he wears his face on his sleeve.
Although I couldn\'t make out what he was thinking. Adeptly he placed his hand in front of him, as if he finally accepted his destiny.
“I was your age when I got my first pack of cigarettes,I wasn\'t afraid of what they\'ll do, because who cares if another one of us dies, let alone if I die a few years early.”
he trailed off. I waited for a second, the silence felt awkward on my end, but he played into like some drama movie then he spoke again
“Let me make myself clear, I\'m not afraid of death, but I have a niece now, and I\'m afraid I have no control, I can\'t fix my health, and I can\'t live for her.”
I felt the hairs on my arm stand, while my heat beat raced with my urge to hold back tears. It felt so minimal, but I guess a little can go a long way.
“ im sorry” i didnt mean it in a pity way, i felt the weight of his words and that\'s all i could say.
“You dont need to be afraid tho”
I put the twenty in front of him, he reluctantly looked at me. Tears formed, his breathing sped up and his lips trembled while he winced his niece\'s names reaching for his box of cigarettes.
He placed them into hand, his grip rough but sweet. I placed the box in the road beside us, waiting for a car to drive by. We waited and waited and i told him this is the process of quitting, we have to wait a bit, then a car flies by, its wings crushing the box of cigarettes.
“Then we win, then you\'ll quit just wait for the car.”
We didn\'t say after that, we knew we both got what we needed.
That night I sat at my computer typing some boring essay format
“ What am I most afraid of and why? I\'m afraid of…”
The words filled my mind, and left my paper blank. Like the tears of all my fears
Were written with invisible ink. I felt like a teenager, helplessly trying to explain their feelings.
Then being told there back talking, is it writer\'s block? Or was I trying to tell my mom the full story.
I fell asleep, my body was physically in pain, my head was pounding with so much velocity. Every second I spent thinking “what am i afraid of”. A spider might make me scream, a gun might make me listen, but what plants fear inside me?
I went to school the next day, the assignment was slowly fading from my memory. I felt free again, and my body didn\'t hurt. I\'m an actor so I don\'t need to worry about my grades.
I have to focus on aging, because I can\'t pursue my career till I\'m 18 and I don\'t have to worry about writing essays about what scares me. I was sitting in my third period when it hit me.
I\'m afraid of failing. I\'m afraid I won\'t make it.
97 percent fail miserably and only 2 percent make some money. 0.38 percent will reach fame and status. And I\'m afraid everyone will watch me talk a big game, and in ten years no one will remember my name.
It feels like a black hole that sits empty, it\'s the kind of fear that hides and gets close
Wait till you\'re almost there. It\'s alive watching me, and it dont wanna see me scared.
It wants to see me disappoint myself and everyone around me.
I hate it, it\'s such a terrible feeling, but I\'m not going to be scared. I could be afraid and brave.
I immediately opened my computer and started writing. My eyes glued to the screen, my fingers feined for the keys. The arial font filled my screen. Then came the sixth period and my fears came true. I wasn\'t done with the essay, but I don\'t feel like I\'m under achieving, I\'m still finishing my writing. So here it is, I\'m afraid I won\'t make it to the big screen.