Fear.

Fear, the worst figment of our imagination. What am I so afraid of? whats going to happen thats so bad? I ask. I find myself in utter silence. and whatever it is, it probably- no it isn't worth it.

Best not to submit to this fear. This fictional negativity that depends on you and your mind.

Not that difficulty is an absence of life, not saying that. I am not even talking about hope. I am talking about choice. The choice we have within ourselves in which to crush fear or be crushed by it. Fear can easily derive from doubt and the unknown. Sometimes we fear that of what we do not know. the unfamiliar. the different. the strange. Maybe it is that of which we don't understand. Not everything has to be understood.

I discussed fear with a friend. we spoke of our inner freedom, and how we are all free, but cannot always come to realize it.

As said, all fears, all limits, are illusions within us. they don't exist in reality unless we create them.

The smell of power tempts us, but we fear the remains, the consequences of what comes along with it. we are fighting, waiting, trying to be free..but we are already free. we don't know how to deal with our liberation.

so we make excuses. we conform. we settle, or cling. Because its easier to be a victim to life. to hold on to a reason, an attempt to justify oneself. nothing to be responsible for, nothing to provoke blame. a feeling of safety, of the known.

we're afraid of freedom, because with it comes responsibility, and having to take responsibility for ourselves, our actions, our lives.

we're afraid of life, because we're afraid of failure. the fear of suffering, of not having, of not being or vice versa. let us come to realize our freedom, as fear drains from our bodies and our souls..

A few near death experiences later...

Although I usually complain about tripping over cobblestones too much, they don’t actually present any real danger but for the times when I’m attempting to catch a bus at two am in shoes really considered to be along the lines of stilettos. No, the real danger, and when I say this (or write this I guess) I really mean it, are what the Portuguese call their ‘carros’ pronounced ‘cah;hoah’ not to forget the spit gurgling at the back of the throat French style mid r. and unless you’re from Aveiro, don’t make the mistake of rolling the r. They will not shy away from barking the dreaded, ‘‘this is not Spanish!’’. But pronunciation to the side and back to the point, its really quite amazing that I’m still alive, when it seems not a soul around here has ever heard of a thing called a ‘license’ and that maybe driving a vehicle shouldn’t actually mean operating a self-destructing killing machine. Okay, so I’m being a bit hard on the Portugueses’ driving skills. They’re not always such maniac drivers and its actually quite fun sometimes to slide around the backseat of a tiny means of transportation in bright red and dj remixed pop songs. I was in my first car accident right here, on the 25 de abril bridge connecting Lisbon to Almada. good times. As we sped back from Lisbon in the heavy rain in the middle of january, our car slid across the metal floor of the bridge and banged into the side-rail. Ridiculously enough, our little red car merely bounced off the rail like a big rubber ball. yelling ''oh meu deus!'' was enough. A few minutes afterward, my host dad and I pulled the car over and sat. a few minutes later we began to laugh. a lot.

It is interesting to experience the place statistically recorded with the highest rating of car accidents in Europe, I must admit. They just blitz along each other like bullets, mindlessly swerving around from one rotunda to another. Its fun to be a pedestrian too. And although they will hit you and blame you next to your hospital bed, they surprise me all the time. They screech their breaks for me when I least expect it, sometimes even causing a slight backend collision of dominoes, that only manage to hit each other lightly, never knocking too hard. I can't explain why they drive recklessly nor would I vie to have it otherwise. Dangerous, yes, but I guess just a part of how they live. Its a rush- a little adrenaline for the day for people who can sit for hours a day chillin in a café they've made a habit of over time, perhaps years. Its not up for me to try to understand it, its just...the way.