So many times, we found ourselves shackled by our own fears,immobilized by dread. The sword of Damocles is hanging above our head. A vitriolic decoction, we swallow the draft that make us see our lack of control.
We feel alone, helpless, like living inside a dank dungeon. No sunlight streaming in. No bright tomorrow to look forward to.
Yet, this terror is in the mind, a susurrant whisper that swells into a shout. It warps our thinking process and disables our motor coordination. If we can silence this, we enable ourselves to act and gain back the control on our lives.
In the process, we realize that the manacles that fettered us from acting is just a figment of our imagination and that all along, the manacles are corroded.
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