Taste of Fear

It is still at the tip of my tongue. Fear. So this is how it feels and taste like. I cannot believe I would come face to face with it. I could not believe it was happening right in front of me. But there it was staring straight at me. I never like the fact that things will get out of control and to feel like my world suddenly made a sudden change. The days I planned would turn out to be a disaster because of one incident.

It happened in the wee hours of the morning. On my way to work and I feel so safe because you are not yet far from the neighborhood. Then there it was in the darkness along the ride, four men declared their evil deed. I was taken aback. I felt like it was just a big joke happening in front of me but it was the dreadful reality. One man got a gun but he did not point it at anyone in particular. Not even to me whom he got to grabbed my bag first. I think I was seeing everything in slow motion. The man took away all of my things. Everything I had that day. The rest of the passengers in the jeep did what they had to do to escape and save themselves.

I wanted to scream for help. I wanted to beg the man to just spare my other belongings. I wanted to run after them as I even saw the four of them running for their escape. I wanted to come after them but I was torn into pieces by fear. Torn if I would scream for help, or just cry helplessly. And there it was fear shrouding my being. I suddenly do not know what to do. I wanted to do something but I was frozen by fear. I was scared. I forgot that our house was just a run away from where I was. I forgot that I would have to run along a bridge just to reach home. I forgot that I was uncomfortable in crossing bridges. But fear was coming after me and so I ran home. My legs are so wobbly, I did not even think I can walk, but I found myself half-running and half-walking. As I ran home upstairs and called for Mama, the tears of my fear and helplessness burst out. I saw my whole family looking at me with scared and concerned eyes. My Papa, Mama, Ate, my younger brother and younger sister were all wide awake watching me cry and hearing my story. They knew I was always the weak one, I was a big cry baby in the family. As they saw me break down helplessly in front of them they knew I was in pain. I saw their love and concern for me. My Ate who was the strong one scolded me with concern . She told me I could still get back the things that were taken away from me and at least I did not go home drenched in my own blood. My younger brother held me on my shoulders and smoothed my back as I cry but I felt suddenly angry.

My fear turned into anger as I dried my tears. The things that I have earned so hard and cherished were suddenly taken away from me by just a bunch of morons who could not stretch their bones to get a job. I lost my things. The cellphone Papa bought for me when I got my first job was gone. My notebook where I jot down my random thoughts and feelings was also gone. I do not have much of material things to show off but I have much things that I cherished much in my bag that were taken away from me and the fact that I worked so hard for those things were infuriating. Then again I do not have the luxury of time to sulk into things I can never have anymore, to feel hatred to those four bastards who stole my things and to fear for another day of going to work in the wee hours of the morning. As my family and friends showered me with their love and support I know I can move on. It is kind of uncomfortable on telling each in everyone my dreadful story but it help me go on. I found myself smiling and even laughing about it.

I came to realize how less I value my life compared to those people around me. Sometimes we forget the simple things that matter. I realized how lucky I am to have this kind of family and a bunch of friends who are there in times like this. I forgot the fact that I am not really a materialistic person and I am used to not having anything. My Ate is right that I could still get back those things that were taken away from me but not the love and care which were showered to me by the people I cherished.

This is how I got the awful taste of fear.