I had a hard time accepting it, but I finally have to admit that I’m afraid to live in my new neighborhood.
We found out the other day that our place was robbed two months before we came in. There’s a lot of characters that hang out around the liquor store down the street. I think there’s a lot of unusual traffic at the house a few doors down. I’m finding I’m making assumptions about people by their race and ethnicity, and letting fear get in the way. It’s nice to sit inside and not go out. Or go out, and not have to come back till late at night.
I can’t hide behind lofty ideals, or mere words and lip service. This isn’t easy, again. My fear is clouding everything, and it’s taken me a few weeks to admit it.