This is a writing challenge from this site: trifecta. The word is “crush”- to reduce to particles by pounding or grinding <crush rock>
I imagine that my fears are solid. They’re smooth, round stones. They’ve be sitting in my life’s riverbed, getting rounder and rounder. They’ve become soft, so I’ll be less likely to throw them off. I’m comfortable with them. I’ve begun to think they are lovely ornaments, psychic jewelry.
But make no mistake, they are heavy. Wearing them makes me immobile. I think they mean to merge with me, become fused with my flesh.
Sometimes they fall off, and I feel lighter and freer for a while, but I’m like a planet, and they are my satellites. They orbit me, and sometimes fall out of orbit and come crashing down. It’s like they love me, and need me. I think I secretly love them. We have a dysfunctional relationship.
I can continue to live this way if I want to live a mediocre life. I’ve always lived with these stones, and I’ve gotten along okay. I can take them to my grave if I please.
Or, I can decide to free myself and crush my stones. I can decide to crush them to a fine powder. I can summon up every ounce of courage I have, focus my energy, and send out a beam of mental energy that will pulverize every one of those stones. When the crushing is complete, I’ll hold that powder tightly in my clenched fist, then I’ll open my fist and let the powder fall, let it scatter on wind.
Then, I will move forward.