forbidden fears

As young children many of us trembled in fear of what could possibly be lurking in the darkness of our closets or the undersides of the beds. We admitted our fears to our guardians and were quickly comforted with callused hands and gentle voices. "It is okay," they whispered "it's simply in your head." We grasped handfuls of their shirts in our tiny fist, clenching so tight our knuckles turned white. They were our refuge, our safe haven. By our sides they remained for years to come until suddenly they were no more. "You're growing up," they explained "you can't continue to milk these childish fears." We became reclusive and tried to somehow convince ourselves that our childhood fears were now nonexistent. Wavering voices, fidgeting fingertips, and shuffling feet was how we got by. If we couldn't convince ourselves then maybe we could convince everyone else around us. They smiled and nodded their heads, proud of our newly perceived accomplishments. The sun brought us strength and security, for we knew that as long as the darkness was gone so was our closeted fears. As we continued to grow we slowly became more and more secluded. We faught with false bravery, scared of what others might do or say if they knew that those fears still lingered.