Scared.

I am afraid of dying.  I am afraid of not being able to fulfil my abilities. To accomplish my dreams. I’m scared that I will die before I’m able to overcome my fears. I will die a secretive worrier and yet I’ll be loved by those who ”knew” me. I’ll die. That’s what I fear. I’ve accepted death in a long term. Yeah, I’m okay with dying at an older age when my time comes. Yeah… But I don’t want to die before proving everyone who has ever doubted me that I can be happy, regardless how many feet come down to stomp my dreams.

I feel like I’m dying. My body feels weak, my head aches, and I’m scared of not being happy with my life. Like now. I have not yet accomplished what I want to.

 

I’m afraid of a lot of things though, beyond just death and lonesome. I’m scared of disease. I’m scared I’ll catch something and bring it home. I’ll infect the ones I love- and that makes me want to be alone. I’m afraid I’ll get ill, and no one will want to care for me when I am. I’m scared that I’ll get sick with something super rare, and it’ll be incurable. I’m scared of cancer. Someone once said that when you leave a plastic bottle in the car or out in the sun, and the soda/water in the bottle forms droplets along the inside, that chemicals in the plastic have been heated into your drink. Guess what? I heard these chemicals cause cancer. I’m scared of my insides shutting down. I’m scared of having a heart attack.

Right now, I’m scared.

I’m alone. 

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