“Fear cuts deeper than swords.” – George R. R. Martin, A Game of Thrones

As a child I feared that my parents would drop me off at karate practice, forget that they ever had a son, and never pick me up.

As an adolescence I feared that I’d never outgrow puberty and be forever doomed to having acne and a voice that cracked.

As a high schooler I feared that people were telling the truth when they told me “these are the best years of your life.”

As a college student I feared that everyone else had their lives figured out and would be more successful than me.

As I took a bus ride in Central America last summer I feared that someone would steal my bag, or that the driver would swerve and accidentally drive off a cliff.

As I started this site I feared that no one would read it, or that I’d be a terrible writer, or that a nest of pedophiles would use my comment section to distribute their smut.

As I was modifying a client’s website I feared that I’d make a mistake and ruin the whole thing.

As I was approaching the squat rack yesterday I feared that my legs would give out and I’d be crushed to death.



Each of these fears are united by a common trait, they never happened.

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