An Open Letter to Mr. Fear

My 'Not So Dear' Mr. Fear,

What do I bribe you with? One second, who am I even kidding? You have a clean record in my world.

I look at the lonely road, contemplate like some wise person and take the alternative road that is sufficiently crowded to merge shadows.

Alcohol. Yes, I'll burn you with it. It will be the antibiotic against you tonight. Goodness! The wine shop is occupied by men. Men who are staring at me and then having a chat with their respective minds about how I am a disgrace to the society. Some of their minds have now collaborated and I can hear whispers.

"One Smirnoff. Green Apple.", I say in a voice that is audible enough. Am I invisible? It would be great if I were so. Kicking asses becomes so much easier when you have some kinda superpower. Unfortunately, I have no superpower and neither is the shopkeeper deaf or blind. *Ignorance* is his boss here. "Uncle, One Smirnoff. Green Apple. Please.", I repeat. Ok, the emphasis on *please* worked yet again.

Neat vodka and chocolate are just perfect for each other. Seven shots down, then the last one. Holy alcohol! I'm still sober. My head is a little dizzy, but Mr. Fear you are still on duty.

The burning sensation of the vodka is useless. You are like the sun Mr. Fear, when I have already swallowed you; how on this universe will any other substance ever work. It was never about you actually. You were a tiny part of my life, it was me who handed over the keys of my life to you. All you did was, you took your job way too seriously dude!

My sincere apologies for the little inconvenience you faced today. The alcohol doesn't ever work on you of course! Goodnight. Youuuu are not so dear Mr. Fear and you never will be.

*Hangover is waiting desperately...*

Yours truly,
... forget it. The one and only Shakespeare once said, "What's in a name." Classy man. I say, "To hell with my name."

©songbriti