My normal method for dealing with fear is to just not allow it any airtime in my mind; when something is necessary but frightens me, I forge onward until it is too late and the thing is already upon me such that I can’t escape.
Yesterday I allowed myself a moment of real fear. For months I have had the ideas of thousands rushing through my head. I feel as though I have envisaged several crystal-clear possible futures, decades farther than I have ever been able to see. I have stubbornly fought for the best possible outcome, which until now had never been within reach and, once abandoned, will likely not come within reach again in my lifetime.
What happens to a dream deferred? I sat down yesterday and I wept over the ultimatum to live or to be free. I have chosen to do what is easy instead of what is right. I do this for myself, not for you. Not for any of you. I wanted to be a leader and instead I am just another sheep. I fancied myself a revolutionary, but it turns out I am nothing more than a coward who, when the time comes, will choose to save my own sorry ass rather than the world. I am betraying you all, as well as every fictional character I have looked up to and drawn inspiration from—Dumbledore, Harry, the Doctor, Eponine, Enjolras, Marius, etc. And most importantly, I am betraying myself.
I turn my fight now to the preservation of the status quo, of servitude, of the illusion of freedom. I will join the herd in fearfully electing an oligarchy in exchange for protection.