Fear to progress because you might get hurt or let down basically guarantees you will. You prolong the wondering, the curiosity, the hope, the dream, until you kill any chances of its fruition. You extend the pain ad infinitum. It’s like finding a lump, but being afraid to go to the doctor because you’re afraid of hearing it’s cancer. So the thought instead eats you alive. If you had gone to the doctor, either you would have that suspicion confirmed and be able to proceed with healing, or you would have been set free from the gnawing worry of what might be, but in reality, isn’t. [God’s response to one of my own worries]