I really wish nothing would scare me. I’m tired of being so afraid of everything, of hoping to hit home runs when just hitting a single is all I need. Right now, I’m standing at the plate, letting pitches whiz by me, not even swinging.

I’m tired of procrastinating. I know what I need to do, like make phone calls, or spend time looking up simple information— that’s the equivalent of taking one foot out of the batters box and taking practice swings all day. But then it’s tomorrow and I wake up, stand all day long at bat, checking my email, watching TV and goofing off in general. I go to bed at night feeling guilty and worthless and horrible that I’m still in the same position I was yesterday, last week, last month and last year.

And since I’m still in the same exact place as I was last year, doesn’t that really mean that I’m even further behind than I was then? I’m in the same spot, just a year older. Same lame person I was back then, but without a good excuse, because at least back then I was young. Now I’m older and I should know better.

I’ve got to stop thinking I’m so freaking special, that people are going to care when I call them or that anyone will ask me to do something extraordinary or intentionally embarrassing.

I’m ready for this giant, blood-sucking leach of fear to be ripped off my back, this disgusting, draining, shadowy monster that is controlling my life. And though I know I’ll be better off without it, I don’t know how to get rid of it. It’s like my batting coach, telling me “Don’t swing, you might miss. Don’t do it now, it’s probably not a good time. Hey, did you see what was on TV? Something funny, I bet….”

I just don’t know. I squander my days and nights, waiting for the perfect pitch, the one that is timed just perfectly, that will require no effort, that will produce an amazing home run. Unsurprisingly, frustratingly, it hasn’t come. I should know better by now than I listen to my batting coach, Fear, because I suspect he plays for the other team.

No one gets unlimited pitches; I feel like I’ve already gotten a few strikes and I can just imagine what will happen when I get “out.” So I stress, and I fret and I never swing my bat. I’m too scared.