Little things unsaid

How strange it is. We have enough these deep lingering fears about ourselves and the people we love. Yet we walk around, talk to people, eat and drink. We manage to function. These feelings are deep and real. Shouldn’t they paralyze us? How is it we can survive them, at least for a little while? How is it no one sees how afraid we were, last night, this morning? Is it something we all hide from each other, by mutual consent? Or do we share the same secret without knowing it? Wear the same disguise?