what is it really, that I am afraid of?

(in the writng)

I think it is that I don't know what I am doing, where I am going, how to do it. My lack of ability, skill. These vast dark areas of unkowing, in myself, and in the story.

But as I type the words from my notebooks into my computer, they expand, as they always do. I always seem to know more than I thought I did. It unfolds, it tells, it knows, it reveals. So then, how can it be, the not knowing that I am afraid of? Is it the knowing? Knowing the story more fully. Is that part of what I am afraid of?
Why?

I don't understand.
Why am I scared?
I understand fearing the blank page (as I surely do fear it),
but why would I also fear the full page?

It (the story) just echoed again, in/on itself, I didn't expect it. Usually this makes me happy, once again catching sight, of a little thread that is woven through the whole thing creating harmonies (or perhaps redundancies, but I wont ask that question till after the draft is done). But this time, I feel ill. Maybe it is because I saw it through the character's eyes, and this little piece of echo, knocked the air right out of his lungs.
The dread, is it his, mine, ours?
both, all. We both have to go through, to come out the other side.
Maybe I'm seeing too much
maybe his journey tells me too much about mine.
Heart falling straight down, through space, on and on.
yeah, I don't know why, but I am scared.

sighing, as I type parts of story up, yeah it isn't just that one scene, it's the whole thing, feeling the emotional weight of it today.