I’m scared of ghosts that make lights flicker and floorboards that creak. I’m scared of failing to make my parents proud of me. I’m scared of running out of time. That no matter what I do, it won’t be enough because I will never be enough. I’m scared that people won’t like me because I’m not interesting enough. I’m scared of spiders. Big, hairy spiders. I’m scared that no one will ever truly understand how I’m feeling because I don’t say anything. I’m scared that no one will try to know me. I’m scared of all the boys men on the streets when I walk home alone at 2AM. I’m scared that as the years go by, I’m losing more and more of myself and eventually I will have nothing left. I’m scared of how deep I can sink. I’m scared of all the relapses and setbacks that will inevitably happen. I’m scared of dying. I don’t know where I will go. I’m scared of childbirth. I’m scared of the disappointment I feel when I wake up in the morning and realize that I am still alive. I’m scared of how well I can fake a smile to make people believe that I am okay. I’m scared of how much people do not know about me. I am scared of falling in love because of all the boys who have used me and ripped me up into teeny tiny pieces. I’m scared that people will leave me. Even though it’s happened a thousand times over and over. I’m scared that I will never be able to love anyone. I’m scared that no one will ever love me. I’m scared I’m scared I’m scared of myself and what I am capable of doing.
liquid guilt 