Fear

This morning I was woken up by a doorbell. Ten inch high natural hair, shorts and an over sized sweater later I'm standing face to face with a guy who I vaguely remember helping my mother a few weeks ago.  Ten or so minutes later, he's giving me his number and I'm struck with a sudden sadness and hollowness.

I would guess it's disappointment that I always get that kind of attention from the ones I don't desire. Does that make me shallow? Ungrateful? I feel like I should appreciate everything I get; my mind is wired in a way that makes me think anything good is supposed to be followed by something that'll hurt and so I always appreciate the good before the bad. I realize that that isn't always the truth in life, but the fact that I'm so afraid of being hurt keeps me from acting on the fact that I know it isn't always true.

Fear. I never thought it would be such a large part of who I am, to be so afraid all the time. I often try to deny the fact that I have anxiety issues by helping other people through their own or at the very least burying myself in things that take my mind off of how terrified I always feel at the littlest of things. Going out and meeting people. Hanging out with people I know. Going some place different. Doing something different. Being myself.

I remember a time when I wasn't afraid, but it seems like it was such a long time ago. Maybe it was. I was a different girl back then, before my parents got divorced and I realized that security is a facade, a nice one, but a facade no less that most of us seek out in vain. What's secure in this world? Nothing. Everything can be taken at the drop of a hat and knowing that makes me seek solace in the wrong people and the wrong things instead of seeking it in myself.

Seeking security in myself is just as shifty; my mind sometimes turns on me and makes me think I'm nothing in the scheme of things. Sometimes it's more cruel than anything I could ever think of encountering in the world and yet most times I turn to it anyway only to draw deeper within myself. Maybe that's the problem.

I'm not a person who thinks that I need help; I'm the one always helping. I'm not the person that needs to be the center of attention, but sometimes I do wish that people would see the real me, even though I know that with the mask I put on it's difficult.

I think that's why the attention so early this morning got to me; I hate being confronted with the truth about myself because it makes me feel like a weak person. I take everything internally and analyze it until I can not be associated with it anymore, but it never works with the fear. Even though I know it's holding me back, and even though I know most of what it's telling me isn't true, I can't ever convince myself to take the leap, and I find that it's never more relevant than when I'm confronted with propositions from men.

"Don't believe the lies/Look me in my eyes..." - Drake

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