Teach me to be Fearless

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Teach me to be fearless. Teach me how to step into a cold shower without flinching and catch a ball without closing my eyes. Dance in a crowd and ignore other people and speak my mind without being paralyzed in fear of judgment. Teach me not to cringe when I make a mistake and how to forget all the times I have been embarrassed. Teach me to dive off of waterfalls and be blissful in the fall without fear of hitting the bottom. Show me how to run into battle and scream with adrenaline, not the urge to flee. I want to sneak into an abandoned building filled with zeal and excitement, not with terror.
Everyone thinks I am fearless. They all know that I would do any dare, talk to any person, jump off anything, just to feel the wind in my hair. “Who would do anything?” You ask them, and they all point to me. Once, I was standing on the edge, about to dive off a cliff into the Delaware River, and I heard someone whisper behind me, “She’s crazy. She’s insane. She’s… fearless.” So I jumped, because I had to fulfill his prophecy. People would tell you I was fearless, yes, but that is because they haven’t seen my weak spot. They haven’t seen me double over, choking on terror because I can’t bring myself to ask a girl to dance. They haven’t seen me tremble when I lean in to kiss her. They haven’t caught me crying because I can’t force three words out of my twisted mouth.
“She’s crazy,” they whisper, and they’re right: because no sane person would be so consumed with fear of something like asking a person to the movies. So teach me. Teach me to be fearless. Teach me to swallow fire without a single gag. Teach me to wash it down with spider venom. Teach me to use a snake as a boa. Teach me to crack my neck at gladiators and stretch my wrists when a terrorist holds a gun to my head. Teach me courage enough to defeat an army. Teach me to be fearless enough to ask a girl on a date.






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