This reflection came to me as a kind of whisper — the voice of every anxious soul who has spent years mistaking chaos for connection. The Fear of No Fear at All is not about panic, but about peace — and how frightening peace can be when you’ve learned to survive on the edge of heartbreak. It’s about the moment you realize that being seen, truly seen, doesn’t have to hurt.
When love finally feels safe, fear becomes the last ghost to leave.
The Fear of No Fear at All Reflection by Rowan Evans
There’s a kind of fear only the anxious understand— not the kind that makes your pulse race, but the kind that falls silent when something finally feels right.
When you’ve spent years waiting for the floor to collapse, for love to turn sharp, for tenderness to vanish like smoke, peace feels dangerous. Safety feels foreign. Your body doesn’t trust the quiet; it waits for the crash that never comes.
And then one day, someone walks in— and there is no crash. No second-guessing, no masks to hold. You find yourself unguarded, unarmed, and the absence of panic is the most terrifying thing of all.
Because what do you do when love doesn’t demand that you bleed for it? When it asks only for your truth, your laughter, your unhidden self?
That is the fear of no fear at all— the trembling realization that maybe, after all this time, you are finally safe here.
🕛 Coming at 12:05 am(UTC +8)
A companion piece — the moment that inspired this realization. ✨ The Moment I Realized (Under Manila’s Setting Sun) — a vignette of confession, connection, and the beautiful terror of truth.
This poem is both a confession and a mirror. It reflects the invisible battles so many of us fight while the world mistakes our survival for apathy. The italicized lines aren’t just quotes — they’re echoes of judgment, the voices that press in on anyone living with trauma, anxiety, or panic.
Survive is my answer to them. Survival isn’t weakness; it’s a skill. It’s an art form. It’s a rebellion so quiet most people never hear it, but it exists in every single breath we take after thinking we couldn’t.
If you’ve ever been made to feel “less than” for simply keeping yourself alive, this poem is for you.
“Every day I rise again. Survival is my quietest rebellion.” — Rowan Evans
Survive Poetry by Rowan Evans
I walk through a world that’s constantly judging, while I’m just trying to keep my head above the waves. I panic at the little things, the things you all take for granted.
You get behind the wheel without a second thought, and for me, it causes pause because I remember the danger. The fact that everything is out of my control.
I just want to be normal, I just want to be whole. But I’m fighting against my brain, I’m fighting against past pain and your judging stares. It’s okay, I know, nobody cares.
“You don’t know how to cook.” “You don’t know how to drive.”
I’m fighting these thoughts, just trying to stay alive. I’ve got anxiety with panic attacks, I can’t breathe when the panic attacks— so please, don’t look at me like I’m lazy, like I don’t want to learn. It hurts. I’m just trying to keep myself alive, I’m really just tryin’ to survive.
But survival is not weakness. It’s the hardest art I know. Every day I rise again, and that, even if you never see it… is my quietest rebellion.
If this piece resonates with you, check out more of my work in—The Library of Ashes.
I dwell in a mind that will not rest, a labyrinth of whispers and claws. Inhale, exhale—Mary Jane becomes my temporary sanctuary, a borrowed grace against the storm within. This poem is a confession to that restless shadow, a devotion to fragile moments of calm, and an ode to the quiet endurance of a soul perpetually awake in its own chaos.
Seeking fragile calm in the midst of a restless mind—Slow My Mind by Rowan Evans.
Slow My Mind By Rowan Evans
I smoke to slow my thoughts— ‘Cause my brain, it talks too much. In the haze, I steal a breath, A fleeting peace, a borrowed hush.
Chaos claws in every corner, Rapid-fire whispers, sharp and cruel. Each one a knife against my skull, A storm that never sleeps, never yields.
Mary Jane, my temporary friend, In your smoke, the noise may bend. You hush the fire, you blur the ache, A fleeting balm, a fragile break.
I light the flame, inhale the calm, Feel the tension curl from my palm. In tendrils of smoke, I seek a place Where the world moves slower, soft, displaced.
Yet even in your smoky grace, I know relief will not embrace The truths I hide, the shadows I keep— A restless mind, a wakeful sleep.
Your comfort is a borrowed hand, A fragile lifeline in shifting sand. And still, I return, inhale, endure, For one more moment, one more cure.
I smoke to slow my thoughts— ‘Cause my brain will never rest. In this haze, I find my ground, A fragile calm, a quiet quest.
Closing Thoughts
Even in the haze, even when the mind won’t rest, I endure. One breath. One moment. One fragile shard of calm to hold onto.
Journey into the Hexverse
Journey into the Hexverse
Step into the Hexverse, where ink drips like blood and shadows weave stories of desire, chaos, and devotion. Each poem is a spark—an echo of fire, a fragment of soul. Traverse these realms and meet the voices that haunt, seduce, and illuminate:
Punchline– Rowan Evans – A dark comedy of survival, laughter, and jagged grace.
Sanguine Serenade– HxNightshade – A hymn of forbidden desire, passion, and whispered lust.
Beneath the Skin– B.D. Nightshade – The intimate torment of craving and surrender, a fevered dance with pain.
Step closer. Let each verse pull you deeper, a winding path through shadow and flame, until you emerge transformed—scarred, awed, and fully awake in the Hexverse.
✦ Poetic Commissions by Rowan Evans ✦
Every word I write is a devotion, a fragment of shadow and light carefully shaped into verse. On my Ko-fi, I offer custom poems, personalized rituals in language, and lyrical messages crafted just for you—or someone you wish to honor, surprise, or remember.
Whether you seek:
A poem for a loved one, friend, or muse
A ritualized or thematic verse for special occasions
A written reflection to say everything you struggle to
…each commission is approached with care, reverence, and the intensity of my signature Neo-Gothic Confessional Romanticism.
✨ Special Offer:Use code NGCR25 at checkout to receive 25% off any commission until the end of the month. Let these words become your keepsake, your offering, your moment of devotion.
Poetry by Rowan Evans 