11:18

Its 11:18, my mind is so far away. A harmless question, "you are not afraid of heights are you?" I stared off for a moment, "no, of course not." But now I was hung on the implied question, what do I fear? What does a man who spends so many hours thinking about death, who spends more time in the caress of lady suicide than in the warm bosom of life.
What do I fear? Weakness. Cowardice. Failure. I fear that I will not be strong enough for the ever dwindling list of people I care about. I feel even the best of them, that their patience with this pathetic little boy will finally break. That their tolerance for all my little acid comments and all my moments where I can't be the better man.
I fear that I will be afraid. That when the cards are dealt that I won't be the man I thought I was. That I will run from the fire not into it. I fear that my strength will never be enough for these long days. I fear failure, most of all failing myself. Which every day I become convinced that I have already done this. That the man who I wanted to be is fading into a memory washed down with cheap wine, and long moments of despair.
Yet I don't feel afraid. I keep my eyes forward. Yes I do fear my own weakness, my own cowardice, and my potential for failure. But I am not a coward. I have not failed. And I am yet still strong. Take a deep breath Jean, try not to over think things. You are younger than you realize.
Come now there is still so much to do......