Irrationality

I have a fear. I have several fears actually, cockroaches, supernatural happenings, sometimes the dark to name a few. While these are also irrational, I have one more irrational fear. It’s a little more recent, and a little more depressing than the rest. I’m terrified that I will always be alone purely because I cannot bring myself to be truly comfortable around anybody.

Before anybody states that I’m too young to truly know about these things, I’m always hoping I’ll be proved wrong. But it’s a recurring situation, and now it’s placed itself as another major fear on one of the many shelves of irrational fears in my mind. It’s right next to my fear of embarrassment and trust issues.

No matter what I do, at least now, I will never be comfortable around a significant other. This much I know for sure. I’m too worried, paranoid, afraid. What if he leaves? What if he gets tired? What if he’s simply pretending?

My best friend can lay her life down for me and I will probably still worry that what I say to her spirit will make her leave.

My parents have dedicated their lives to me and I simply cannot bring myself to express my discomfort in some situations. I will never tell them that I don’t actually want to come back to them, that I don’t truly feel comfortable in the home they have built for me, that I’m too scared they’ll judge my vocal abilities.

I drown myself in fantasy worlds and perfect romances. I drown myself in the perfect world that Instagram loves showing me. I revel in the perfection of conversations over text because for a while I can pretend like I’m not restraining myself and deleting five responses before sending in my final reply. I lose myself in front of the mirror hoping that maybe I would be comfortable with my own reflection. I sing softly even in an empty house. Dance carefully even when I know nobody is watching.

And maybe one day, I won’t.

Maybe one of these days I’ll be comfortable enough to simply cry when I need to. Maybe I will actually eat something instead of sipping on a drink. Maybe I’ll sing when I’m around my family. Maybe my shoulders will not be tense and I will sleep without worrying about how it looks. Maybe I’ll tell them what I’m really thinking instead of hiding behind pretty metaphors and stories with too much of myself in them.

Maybe one day I’ll be able to throw this irrational fear off of my shelf.

 

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