I Fear I've Been Gone Too Long.

How to begin?
How about; sometimes fears are justified.
   My old house isn't selling, California is twice as expensive, I make less money than before, I'm living with in-laws, and I haven't written in four months. The jury is out on me turning into my father, and/or ruining my children. When I catch Ebola, I'll have completed the fear trifecta. (I know I listed more than three things, but octo-fecta isn't a thing. Stop being so literal.)
   I guess the only solution is to stay fantastically drunk. Although that might actually cause several of my other fears to manifest, I will be too bombed to care.

So here's to my fears, 

I'll drown 'em with beers. 

It's time to draw and write

and get on with life.

This is still not what I imagined as the personification of facing my fears, but it's closer than the last one.

I'm afraid you're stuck with me.