I am terrified of everything that might happen. And anything that I might do. Even though I know I would never consciously try to harm myself. Not physically anyway. And I know I have never been allergic to anything and I am probably the worlds’ most cautious driver. Still, I am terrified.
I am terrified of taking any kind of medicine. All my life I never had any bad reaction to any kind of medicine. Now I am afraid I will stop breathing even if I just take the same pain killers I have been taking for my headaches for the past 15 years. It’s not rational and I know it. But still, I can’t help it. So instead of taking medicine I just lie in my bed with a pounding headache, crying silently because it hurts so bad. If that’s not crazy I don’t know what is.
I am terrified of the dark. To be fair, I always feared the darkness – it has something to do with my claustrophobia, which I have had all my life. Or at least for as long as I can remember. But now I can’t stand the dark at all. I need to sleep with a candle or a light on and then I can’t sleep because it is too bright. And because I fear the house might burn down. So instead of sleeping I am trying to convince myself that there is nothing to be afraid of until I am so exhausted I will doze off for two or three hours because the alarm rings again. And I know it’s not a rational fear. It’s a crazy one.
I am terrified of love. So far, I only had two real relationships. Or more accurately, when it comes to relationships those are the only ones I acknowledge those two as real. The first one is the one I never talk about. The second one was an emotionally abusive one that left me even more broken than I was before. For three years all he ever did was tell me I am wrong. About music, about love, about my dreams – essentially about my life. And the most fucked up thing is that I still catch myself seeing the world through his eyes. And I am afraid I won’t ever be able to shake his poison completely. So, while everyone I know has a relationship, a marriage, even kids, I am just sitting around, getting older by the minute. And I don’t know if it’s ever going to change.
I am terrified of the future. Because all I ever wanted seems to be the one thing I just can’t do. I can’t finish writing a story. I am still living in Germany. And no matter how much it hurts I can’t seem to change it. So, I am lying in my bed at night, in my too bright room with a pounding headache and instead of doing something – anything – I am terrified. Of life, of myself and of everything else I can think of. And I know that’s not healthy and not productive and sure as hell not rational. But I can’t seem to be able to do anything about it.
I am not writing this to get sympathy. I know I should be grateful that I am physically healthy, that I have a job and that I live a very privileged life compared to some other people on this planet. But unfortunately knowing that doesn’t help with the emptiness inside me that keeps eating away my emotions until there is nothing left but fear. You can’t reason with fear.