Fear Is Just Another Boundary.

 I was Walking home the other Night, It's kind of late. But my parents Know I'm on my way home, no worries, yeah?

I Wish.

It's dark, and like any other paranoid teenage girl, I worry something is going to happen. Something bad. I've never been afraid of the dark, but it's different outside when you're alone. I went to call a friend, to have the comfort of a voice, a presence.

That's when my phone dies.

How could I be so forgetful to charge it the night before? Whatever, at this point I just want to get home. My pace quickens along with my heart beat. With nothing to Distract me, I'm trying to reassure myself nothing will happen. I will get home, finish up the loose ends of homework, and go to bed. Just like always, when it isn't so dark. I'll be fine. Then the worst thing possible happens.

The Streetlight Above Me Goes Out.

I make a run for it. What a simple, trivial thing. A streetlight? No one really has control over the faulty wiring or the dying bulb inside there. Why did I feel as if someone did? I keep running.

I walk in the door, nothing short of being relieved. I head upstairs, thinking about what just happened. I wasn't going to get hurt. My subconscious knew that. So why didn't my conscious realize this, like any rational person? I'm still racking my brain for an answer.

So how does this relate back to the arts?

Truth is, I hoped typing this out would make the answer clearer. It's there, but still not quite polished. I think that there are blockades with any type of art, and to get over them, you need to step back, take a deep breath, and do everything you can to overcome them. Doesn't work? Try it again, maybe slightly alter your solution. As one of the pieces of DADA art said, "It takes a few failures to reach success."
So I will be walking home in the dark again. Preforming different tactics to comfort myself. And overcome the Paranoia that is instilled within me.

I can do This.