I ran. Fast. Out of breath. Lungs
bursting. Legs hitting the earth. I thudded up the path, around the corner,
right up the stairs and reached the door. I flung it open and ... suddenly.. I
heard them. Those dreaded footsteps right behind me. I knew it, I knew I was
being followed. I whipped around and saw...
Me!
Me said breathlessly, ‘Don’t run
away! We need to talk!’
‘No,’ I said, ‘there’s nothing to
talk about. One of me is bad enough. I don’t need two.’
Me said, ‘You always run away
from what you’re afraid of, or what you don’t like. Face it!’
‘No,’ I said, trying to shut the
door, but Me had her foot in it. ‘Go away. I’m afraid of facing you.’
‘What are you most afraid of?’
So I stopped. Me wasn’t going
away. I said slowly, ‘I’m afraid of being alone. I’m afraid of running out of
money, of friends... I’m afraid of losing those I love. I’m afraid .....’ and I
went on and on. Me and I – we went in through that door, and we weren’t running
any more. We sat and talked about it. It all poured out – the fears, the tears.
After a long while, Me said, ‘Why
don’t you write about it? About what you think? About what you want to.’
‘No,’ I said, ‘I’m afraid. What
if no one likes it?’
‘Only one way to know. Only one
way to attack this. It’s your first fear. Face it. Write.’
So I sat and began to write....
