After a trip to T-Mobile to pay off my wife's phone and hopefully put a little bit of saved up money to work on acquiring a more artistically-inclined phone (Which ended in disappointment and the inability to cough up $300 for said device,) I fell into another pointless argument... the kind where a couple runs out of reasons to argue about the subject at-hand, so they start going down a list of every possible thing they have a beef about, just to keep it going.

After that, I was left feeling raw... and confused. I've come to realize my greatest fear again-- the one that's so terrible that it keeps crawling into the back of my mind, where I forget it most of the time.

I'm afraid of being forgotten. I'm sure it's something that plagues a lot of us artists and writers-- that desire to be remembered beyond your walk of the Earth, to have people know your name. To feel like your creativity meant something. I keep burying that deep, because I'm afraid, and I'm weak. My capabilities as an artist make me feel just enough hope to acknowledge that I want that fame. But I don't have any muscle on it, so to speak... I'm afraid to fight the current.

This fear is buried deep to keep me alive and functional. To keep me sociable. It's the fear that alienates me from my friends, time and time again, year after year. It's the fear that causes me to completely lose touch with my career choices, as it has this time. The fear that I'm letting something beautiful wither and die before it's had its time in the sun.

I walked, and froze today on the empty lot. No one else was mad enough to stick around for the storm, but I had my job as Security. The bitter cold kept my mind clear, if only because of the more visceral, immediate threat the blistering cold could supply to someone who's under-equipped for the weather. As I warmed up and crawled my way home across the ice-coated highways, the fear came crawling back...

Now here I sit, wondering how I'm going to keep it together. People say all kinds of things about how beautiful suffering for one's art is, to stand up after failing. But I don't know if I have the capacity for it. I don't know if I'd be able to handle my line of work through the fallout of losing my way as an artist again... so I'm afraid to even start that path.