Ever hear of the man that had no fear? Irish folklore fascinates me so much. This man was able to become a king and warrior because the gods blessed him with the capability of not having fear. This worked out quite well for him. He eventually began conquering the un-conquerable lands. Gaining riches, women, and a multitude of servants. But as the story goes on, his lack of fear became his mortal wound. He was too cocky, too arrogant, and most of all, to full of confidence to listen to reason. See, he wasn't superhuman. Not in the least. He didn't have super strength, or x-ray vision. He couldn't even fly. His downfall was a well. Something so insignificant and at the same time, inanimate. He fell into a well and drowned. The well of youth. The gods had a fountain of youth, that once the water touched your lips, you returned to your adolescence. The only trick to the well is that you have no rope or bucket to raise the water out of the well. The warrior king decides the only thing to do is jump in the well. He refused to listen to his second lieutenant who warned him that the well is infinite. There is no bottom. The Egotistical Fearless king met his fate soon thereafter.
I thought I was fearless. Now my "fearlessness" has me backed into a corner waiting for the trigger to pull. What comes around goes around. I guess not many people, myself included, take this seriously. There is something that I've done that cannot be undone. There are feelings Ive hurt that cannot be un-hurt. Ive taken so much for granted, that now I have nothing else to lean on.
The ice is giving out. I have no rope.
Fair enough. I guess its my time now.
