Confronting the Ogre

(During a writing class a few weeks ago we were instructed to interview a part of ourselves; namely our fears. This is what I discovered. Note: This is very different to what I usually write and naturally I left a few too personal things out.)

His name is Failure, but to a special few he is known as Rejection. He is a striking figure; both beautiful and terrifying. He has a prefect face yet in his eyes lurk something sinister. He waves his hands and decisions are made. He creates pressure and anxiety. He weaves doubt and molds regret.

The problem is that I am only starting to notice him now. He has always been there; standing next to me. He loves going on dates with me and it’s hard to turn down his advances. I know that he is always there. Lurking behind every move I make. He comes to me, because I am not quite ready to tell him to leave. There are chinks in my armour. Cracks my mirror.  Instead of light, darkness sneaks through. He comes around, because he is the house-guest I invited in once and now he refuses to leave. He comes here, because he is known here; familiar here.

He becomes powerful when I am weak. He succeeds when I don’t. He remembers every mistake. “This is who you are now,” he says.

So we struggle on; just the two of us. Caught in an endless tug-of-war. Every day I fear that he gains a little more ground into my side. But I fight on, because he may be strong, but I’ve worked too hard to let him overpower me. So I push on and one day I hope that he will be the one who is overpowered and weak.

For now, I’ll just heal the rope burns on my hands.