Dear Voice of Fear,
You're not winning. I just thought I'd point out that fundamental fact.
In this thing we've named 'the war on terror', I reckon, right now, the judges are probably sneaking a look at their watches and hoping no-one's pilfered their sandwich from the staff fridge.
Because it's obvious. No matter what happens, we will keep on living.
It's not that we don't care about the tragic effects of these cowardly endeavours, because we do. But it's the fact we care that makes us so strong.
You're like a tick on the belly of a faithful, old dog. You're trying with all your might to suck out it's life force, but that dog will carry on fetching that ball, and chasing that pigeon, and farting gloriously in it's sleep.
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Fear neither lives nor belongs here. Fear is the outcast. Instead, I see good hearts.
I see the bravery of the emergency services acting quickly and compassionately in a crisis. I see our armed forces with the same courage, willing to protect the values and citizens of this country. I see the people, at a time of political division, pulling together and putting aside their differences to help others.
We're still going to work, still getting that Friday night chip shop fix, still running our businesses, still celebrating marriages and births. Still plucking up the courage for those first date kisses and regretting last night's curry. Still shaking a fist at the car that cuts us up in traffic. Still mowing our lawns and planning our holidays and moving house and selling old clothes on eBay.
This isn't just British spirit, this is the spirit of humankind. Ready to rally, ready to help, ready to put aside selfish needs and call on that fighting grit waiting deep down in our gut (because it's always been there). Ready to roll up our sleeves, dust off that stiff upper lip and say 'I'm not having this'.
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I cannot imagine how those who have lost loved ones are feeling. And if I do try to imagine, I'm brought to my knees by sadness and grief.
But at the same time a dozen other feelings raise me up: pride, respect, hope, love.
Your mission is flawed, Fear. It was flawed from the beginning. Because you didn't have a clue what you were up against. You're digging a diamond mine with a teaspoon. You're peeing in the proverbial wind.
Meanwhile, we're supporting friends going through tough times. We're celebrating at Nana's house for her birthday (even though she said she didn't want a fuss). We're making the kids breakfast so our partner can lie in, and we're holding our little ones in the tightest of embraces.
That's love for you.
I know which camp I'd rather be in.