About fear and depression

I’m a chicken. That’s a silly, noncommittal way of saying that I’m really, really afraid. Of what, you ask? Why, life in general. At this particular moment I’m afraid of my friends or family dying, of not talking myself into riding my very cool new bike enough, of all the work I have to do, of the repercussions of my bad habits catching up with me. It’s rather paralyzing, actually. I’m so afraid of life that I’m not living. So many times I wish I were like my brother Justin, because he doesn’t seem afraid of anything. I tell myself that my fears don’t matter, that I should do things anyway, but the fears become wordless terror and shut me down. Thinking is my nemesis. I do much better with someone there holding my hand, but I need to do these things myself. Anyone have any advice besides the overly simplistic ‘just do it’?

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