You flinch before the punch lands.
Not because it hit you. Because you were sure it would.
Fear runs the simulation early. Tells you to brace. To swerve. To grip the wheel so tight you forget how to steer.
Most of what we're afraid of never arrives.
But the fear does. Every time.
It tightens your chest on a Tuesday morning over something that might happen on Friday. Maybe.
And that tension isn't neutral. It shapes your decisions. Shrinks your options. Sends you down the exact path you were trying to avoid.
The irony is almost cruel.
Fear of failure makes you hesitate until failure becomes certain.
Fear of rejection makes you close off until connection becomes impossible.
Fear of losing control makes you grip so hard you snap something.
You weren't killed by the thing.
You were killed by the flinch.
Watch your impulses. They don't always know what they're protecting you from.