I’m not afraid of dying.

I’m only afraid of being or feeling incompetent,
at the art of moving, or at keeping myself comfortable or energized–
at a lot of barely definable things like that.

On bad days I’m even a little fearful of looking incompetent.

The fear of incompetence in myself also produces rage in me at the incompetence of others.

So between the two things I spend too much time being angry or scared or both at once.

The rattle in the suspension of my truck is an objective correlative for the fear of maybe not being competent at Moving sometime all too soon.

The hiccup in the air conditioner is the same for the fear of maybe feeling incompetent at keeping myself comfortable and energized.

On good days and parts of days I just stay focused on what I can do to keep myself being competent at all the many things.

Today was like that.

Mostly.