I feel as though you could ask me the question: What do you fear? And my list would go on forever.
I’m a worrier — that’s a a fact. Worry leads me down roads in which I fear the most impossible situations, situations I know at heart have the slimmest possibility of occurring and yet here I am—fearing them anyways. I fear the inevitable too and there’s no stopping that.
I fear the days in which my parents are no longer present in my life, no longer a phone call or bus ride away. I fear that their absence will send me into a downward spiral towards a state I never want to be in: an unbelievable amount of grief.
I fear that as time passes I will forget the comfort of their touch, their being. I fear I will not remember the coo in my mother’s voice, or the tenderness in my father’s laugh. As much as I’d like to say I am independent, I rely so much on the love that they provide me. And although a parent’s love is eternal, so is the pain of missing them. I fear the day I have to say goodbye.
I’m afraid of dying. Death in general. The sole fact of existing and then ceasing to exist is not something I can grip easily. The optimist in me cannot fathom living a life to let it all end. But it will and that isn’t an easy fact for me to stomach.
I’m afraid of not being good enough, whatever that means.
I’m afraid of never being good enough for someone else — that who I am will equate to nothing measurable in someone else’s life. I’m afraid I won’t make the impacts I am designed to make — even if I don’t know them yet. We all have a purpose and I’m afraid I’ll never find mine.
I’m afraid of never finishing school due to the many factors in my life that are working against that goal. I’m afraid of finishing school and being trapped in a place where there are no jobs for me to strive for. I am afraid of my life becoming stagnant and all my dreams disappearing into a void simply because I do not have the tools required for a stable future.
I’m afraid of opening up to others and letting them view the parts of me that I do not even understand.
I fear the day I have someone in my life who I see my future in — someone who does understand those parts of me that I don’t and loves me for them anyways. What happens if that person leaves? How many times can one come back up from thinking their life is solidified with someone else? Thinking they have found their soulmate?
I fear every what if that strings itself along the inside of my brain.
Some fears are simple. I’m afraid of spiders, loud noises, and people screaming.
I fear walking home alone at night. Taking the train alone at night. It’s not safe out there. I’m afraid of what could happen and what does happen to so many.
I’m afraid to live in a world where equality seems so out of reach. Where racism and oppression are so prevalent in society. A place where my gender is an insult. I’m afraid it will never end.
I spend moments in my life paralyzed by my anxiety, paralyzed by the worries that cloud my judgment. I fear this is how I will live the rest of my life. I fear never feeling “normal.” I fear never having control of my emotions and never experiencing rationality as the common thread throughout my mind. I fear that all of these fears will be the constant stammer in my head.
Maybe this is all okay for now, to be full of fears. Not knowing what is coming next and which of these fears may become realities is just life—I can fear it all, but above all else I will not allow myself to fear living.