Fear Chapter 1 Fear is an intense emotion, manufactured by the body to increase the likelihood of survival. It creates a wariness of danger without which the human race would not have survived to this day. Some may even say we have thrived as a race, but I disagree. I believe the presence of fear has inhibited our ability to thrive, because we are too scared to experience the world that is just beyond our comfort zone. I do not say this as a cynical introvert, bitterly cursing at the faults of human nature, but as a prime example of someone who has been paralysed by the effects of a fear that is inescapable, and unexplainable. An irrational fear that causes many an eyebrow to be raised, but it is crippling nonetheless. My fear is not of the dark, or flying. Or perhaps the more philosophical fear of 'the unknown'. My fear is of people, and as you can imagine. It is not too easy to simply avoid. People themselves don't terrify me. It's the interactions, the judgements, the falsities and the pressure of it all that terrifies me. So much so that in the past year I haven't left my room except to complete the basic functions that I need to continue my tragic existence. But all that is set to change this year, if my mother gets her way. She wants me to go to uni, to continue my study of the arts, and 'to begin to thrive again'. She says that by going to uni I will 'address the issues that became during college' and 'finally beat my demons'. I know she just wants me out of my room. She wants the intrusive questions asking 'So how is Annabel doing these days' followed by an agonising silence to end. And the whispering that undoubtedly stops whenever she enters a room to be about anything but me. Anything but her 'thriving daughter who lost the plot'. I feel sorry for her, I really do. I got a scholarship to an expensive art college, I fit in there. I loved it there. She would tell anyone who would listen about her daughter who went to the art college. They'd reply with forced 'oohs ' and 'aaahs' but she didn't care. She wouldn't have cared if they hasn't listened at all, she was just too proud to keep it all in. Now she prays I don't come up in conversation. That she doesn't have to explain why I, when I had everything in the world that I needed, had gone so wrong. Her child who had once been a source of pride and praise, was now an embarrassment. Wasting away in the dark of her room. 'All that potential..' Wasted. I think it's the guilt more than anything that made me agree to enrol at uni. In all honesty I thought I would be declined. I was sure that I'd receive a polite refusal of a place on their course, mum would be upset of course. But I would have given her the satisfaction of making an effort. The next time someone asked, 'So, how is Annabel doing these days?' She'd be able to reply that I had applied to uni, I was doing something with my #life. But, of course, that crisp white letter addressed to 'Miss ahsndn snsjsk' dropped through the letterbox, and instead of a refusal. It was an excited acceptance inviting me to an interview the following week to secure my place. This was the first time I realised I hadn't planned for this. I had planned to act slightly downhearted at the refusal letter I was sure would be sent out. I'd have a long chat with mum about how it was disappointing, but at least I made an effort, and then I'd go back to dwelling in the stuffy dark of my room. I hadn't planned to be accepted. I hadn't planned for the possibility of a place at uni, and I hadn't planned for the inevitable fact that mum would not let me avoid that meeting for anything. I'd managed to spit out enough hurtful comments to get her to leave me alone before, but with an acceptance letter from Falmouth university. There was absolutely no way she was going to let this go. On Saturday the 12th of June, I was going to have to leave the house, whether I liked it or not.
