The Assignment
It’s simple. Or so they claim. Just feel the fear And call its name.
Let it pass, don’t hold too tight— Don’t chase it down, don’t start a fight. But here I sit, a crumpled start, The paper blank, but not my heart.
The task is clear, The fear’s well known, But somehow still I’m not alone.
First is to find the scariest thought the one you avoid the one you’re taught will ruin the world if you let it in so write it down don’t blink begin—
Carve it in words like it's etched in bone A truth you dread, cold, unknown Use detail, lots—make it sharp and live So your body reacts like it won’t survive
To feel... the choke to freeze, to fall to smell the moment before it mauls
To hear the snap—the break, the scream To see it loop, to kill the dream Over and over, deep in the brain Until you can't tell thought from pain
To taste the panic the bile, the breath to swallow the air that tastes like death Until the only thing you know is dread, and fear, and losing control.
That’s the process, that’s the script. Recite the chaos, don’t let it slip. Describe your doom, rehearse your fall— Until it doesn’t hurt at all.
But what if saying it makes it stay? What if I give it breath that way? They say this makes the terror flee— But what if this becomes all of me?
Is that the truth behind the spin? Is that the trap OCD keeps me in? Or is this work—the daily plea— Exactly what it claims to be?
Just let it come. Just let it be.
