Sylvanna Devlin

An angry pit of nerves

That’s how we describe the feeling of a stone in your stomach. The not quite ready to puke but nauseated sign of fear.

It’s accompanied by a strange sensation akin in to the flu but not quite as debilitating. Too hot, too cold, too wobbly in the knees and maybe a little dizzy.

This is what it is to actually be scared?

My arachnophobia I recovered from years ago. But I reserve the right to scream like a little girl if I see a scorpion.

Snakes? Nah. They’re cute.

Height? Beyond that weird impulse to just jump off some of us get? Nope. Not really.

Failure?

Ahhhh define failure. I seem to have failed forward a lot in life but I long ago read that was not a bad way to eventually succeed.

Rejection? Abandonment?

Shush. It’s not that I don’t have those, but I’ve dealt with it on such a fundamental level it doesn’t really cause the Wobblies

Financial strain?

Ah. Who doesn’t?

Health?

That really depends on what my doctors say about a benign growth in my brain. If I should worry.

It would be inconvenient to survive suicide only to go out from brain cancer. And I have writing I’d really like to accomplish if I am on my way out.

So death?

Well it’s not that bad really.

Death of a loved one?

It’s gut wrenching and awful, sending me in spirals of disbelief and anguish. But that’s not what’s making me tremble a little.

And without going into particulars. This sensation is so new. So unrecognizable. I didn’t realize how scared I truly was.

I fear very little in life.

But what I’m up against now is the worst it gets.