There was this idiot who climbed the window and into the room. It looked at me with the eyes that could melt a heart. I had lost mine, so there wasn't much liquid mess to wipe clean. "Do you want food, shelter or a place to slumber?" I asked with a nonchalance born out of years of endless pride. "No, I need a place close to your chest, for I see that you have lost your heart". "So be it" said I; not pausing to think whether it was love, piety or just another word that meant nothing. It stayed with me with unswayed faithfulness. It told me things I should not do, people I should fear and places I should avoid. It rationalized trust, argued over the futility of love, fenced independence, made the past unknown and the future fearful. It lived and fed off me. Then one day it walked up to me, extended a delicate hand that encirled my entire being; I heard it say "Hello, my name is Fear".