Who is the real you?

I am harmless, I am everyone's friend, I am judged slightly eccentric and lovable.

Wrong. Who is the real you?

I am wide-eyed and innocent, living in a comforting world of unusual and personalised perception and appreciation.

Wrong. Who is the real you?

I am confused, trying to make sense of an over-bearing and intimidating world with dignity.

Wrong. Who is the real you? What are you?

I am the escapist, the idealist, I dream a reality that puts me at ease with the social life we lead, and the people surrounding us.

Wrong. Who is the real you? What are you?

I am afraid; of change, of uncertainty, of committing, of integrating, of failing - at all costs, protecting what little I can verify is true and mine.

What are you?

I am the universal, ultimate and all producing entity of fear.

What are you?

I am alive.

There is a short musical interlude. Click(!).

I am the product of fear, and whatever I need to be to cope with it, flexibly reconstructing myself from fallibility. And deep inside, of you, as everyone imagines the self to be - three dimensional - we all all very much afraid. The products of insecurity, dealt with or not, handled morally or otherwise; character building moments of our lives, those all accumulating to recover ourselves from the innocence and naivety as a newly born child (entry point), or instead distance ourselves from that mentality to survive a somewhat fear-inducing world.

We're afraid of growing up. We're afraid of growing old. We're afraid of death (exit point) - a lifetime thus.

Death is the latter fear, entire wars and hardships being caused in exploitation of this facet of universal fear.

I exist in fear - as a product of DNA's eternal development, that is. I fear for my life each day (or i'm genetically prepared so), if I don't my fears are manifested and I die (ironically) through lack of sustenance. You all know this, like me. And it's no small wonder that fat people (those of a larger build, to be politically correct), the ones who are most likely to survive in an animalistic context, are so fearful - a sort of ironic success that manifests itself as social anxiety rather than the survival instinct it should do.

I will survive. Wrong - I fear the uncertainty of life.

But, contextually speaking that is, our substituted lives of economy (a pound coin is gently spinning on the table, right next to my arm) these necessities seem to be often mislaid on something relatively abstract, like the repossession of your house. Oh, but wait, that's a perfectly valid insecurity in the context of survival. You probably won't die though.

Monkey-kind never made weapons of mass destruction. You probably never ate your neighbours babies.

It's probably more scared than you are.

Fear is the struggle, it is what defines people, initially and ultimately, how they react and respond and generally behave. It's your strategy, however misguided that may be. The fear of death defines, produces, preserves and perpetuates life, and thus itself.

Fear is a part of you. You are all fearful to some extent (those who aren't are either great or terrible people, to surmise subjectively).

Yes, you are.

Aren't you (that wasn't a question, let alone rhetorical; but a statement).