Throughout October, Zeb asked Kilter Street Manor residents to write their worst fear and leave it in a basket in the mailroom. Everyone chose to do it anonymously, and most people typed up their notes. Now Zeb has tacked the notes up on the mailroom bulletin board, crowding out the takeout menus and the polaroid photos of bare tree branches Mrs. Selby has taken to sharing.
Here are the worst fears, the day after Halloween 2015
The death of my wife and loss of our unborn child.
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The death of my husband and loss of our unborn child.
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The possibility that I will snap and kill all my neighbors. MUAHAHAHAHAHAHA!!
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Dying fully aware of all the things I could have done and didn’t do and all the ways I failed my family.
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My family dying. Not only dying, but dying because of me. Because I caused an electric fire or didn’t drive safely.
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Death of loved ones. Slow death of myself.
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Everyone thinking I’m stupid, and all my family getting sick.
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Getting killed by being buried alive and my body never being found. And the same thing happening to people I care about.
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Never making something of myself. Knowing I blew it and never bounced back.
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Losing the ability to take care of myself and needing to be dependent on someone else.
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I think this is a stupid thing to do. The only reason I’m writing one of these notes is to tell you that.
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This is a tough one. I’ll say loved ones dying. And me having to move into a nursing home. I’d rather not. (But I’m years, even decades away from that, so I think I’m all right, unless I get early onset Alzheimer’s or something like that.)
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I used to fear death, but now I don’t, not since I came to some important conclusions about it. It sends its regards, by the way.
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Not being able to feel happy or take pleasure in anything. That would be terrifying.
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Being jobless and homeless.
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Losing my ability to make sense and meaning of things.
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Reaching the end of my life and realizing I missed out on all the things I wanted and now there’s no chance to enjoy them.
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Being helpless at someone else’s mercy when they have no real mercy.
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Causing someone else’s destruction because I screwed up.
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Dying unknown, unseen, and unloved.
Kilter Street Chronicles 