I've been having these stupid little fantasies. They're really nothing special, unless you contrast them with reality. And of course I do that, a lot.

So I fantasize about stuff. All the time. I'm doing it right now as I type this sentence.

I think that the thing that really hits me in the proverbial face with the proverbial baseball bat, when I allow my mind to wander like this, is that those things that I fantasize about - I've already experienced them. I've already lived the dream.

And what did I do, back when I had everything?

I wanted more, or I wanted less, or I wanted something else entirely.

I'd completely lost sight of what was really important. I'd completely forgotten what it was like to be a happy person. So much that I didn't recognize happiness even when I was smack in the middle of it. I guess that a part of me thought it was a trick, some cruel joke, some evil scheme designed to lure me out into the open where I'd be vulnerable.

And so now, years later, I fantasize about regaining those things which I have lost. And I wonder if I'll be able to do better the next time, if there indeed is a next time. Can I be less afraid, should an opportunity for bravery miraculously present itself?

There are things that I know, deep down, things that I know should be handled differently. Things that should be said. Truths that should be told. Gestures that should be made. Oaths that should be sworn. I know these things as surely as I know my own name.

I know that I must do things differently, should the opportunity arise.

I know this.

So I wonder, why am I still so afraid? And what is it, exactly, that I fear?