Fears come from a far away place and land on my plate. They spice my food with suspicions and give it a bitter taste on my tongue. I have no justification for feeling this way and yet it still exists. I have no right to worry about the future, to let these worries melt my ice cream in my bowl like the sun. It melts in seconds an d curdles when left in the heat. It sours in my throat and gives me mucous in my chest.
When I cough, the anxiety breaks up in my lungs and is then in bite sized fears that come up through my throat. When I cough them up harder, I can spit out the hard chunks into my hand and then wash them down the drain. Down the drain it flows with the water - those fears that make no sense. They go into the sewer with all the other waste.
When you cast my fears aside you told me they weren't important. They were ploys to get you to fight with me and to make me hurt you and they really weren't real. They are very real to me.