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A Quiz of FearsA Quiz of Fears
What are your phobias,
Your hates and fears?
Complete this quiz to find out just how much you're frightened of.
Be honest, don't lie, and accept it - even if its small
(It is recommended that you delete the text in brackets)
(Simply copy the quiz into your journal, place an X in the boxes for the things you fear, hate, are annoyed by or are worried of. Each is worth 2%, they are clustered into groups of 5. Calculate your percentage at the end)
[ ] Your own health / weight
[ ] Your own lack of knowledge
[ ] Failing exams / tests / jobs
[ ] Making decisions
[ ] Losing your sanity
[ ] Public speaking
[ ] Asking for help
[ ] Admitting defeat / apologising
[ ] Meeting new people
[ ] Being rejected / bullied
[ ] Being Alone / Ignored
[ ] Losing an important relationship
[ ] Arguments between friends / family
[ ] Sexual abuse
[ ] Being touched by people who aren't close
[ ] Blood /
X, Y +X, Y +
The continents are drifting,
A Nightmare's hollow scream,
Mere tool as its needed,
Becoming one of the scene.
It may be the magic number,
But you'll find in this world,
There is only Ones and Zeros,
Villains and Heroes,
Day and Night,
Black and White,
Dreht a roff moeron.
Poetic PsychosisIn thirty seconds, the next shell would fall. Every night was the same, but every night Lorenzo experienced it as if it were the first time. His throat felt swollen; breathing was hard. He glanced around at the others; young men like him who had been shipped out in the name of honour and freedom. There was no honour in this, no freedom. Only death behind your eyelids, and a fear so gutting, that it carved out your innards and left you a hollow husk. Lorenzo tried to breathe, tried to assure himself that he was still whole, still made of flesh. They had lied when they told him he was ready.
Matteo ran towards him, arms out, rifle swinging uselessly at his side. He shouted for him to run, but Lorenzo remained motionless, unable to move as his friend’s warning was lost in the constant blare of gunfire. None of them were ready.
“The cycle is repeating. It is not safe.” The voice was soft and weak, yet it carried over the gunfire and battle cries without impediment.
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