There’s a kind of peace in fear. It’s a peace one acquires with age. Dread. Sure. Well, because I know what’s inevitable. But a peace.
A confidence that I'm able to handle the unavoidable. The pit in my stomach is recognizable. It’s an echoed epicenter not an unpredicted ulcer. There’s a confidence in knowing I'm able to endure until an end. That doesn‘t mean I don't feel afraid. It just means I'm not burdened by the fear of how to handle something unknown.