You had a lot of fears. From the day that I first met you, you told me you were afraid of many things. I thought you were overreacting since that was one of the things you usually do, but I had a glimpse of realization when we were in a room one night and I turned off the lights, you touched my arm and asked me to turn it on again. When one afternoon we were about to watch a movie and the only choices were a horror film and a sappy love story that was just 11% on rotten tomatoes, but you still begged for me to choose the bad one. When your cousin was rushed into the hospital then you saw a patient that had an accident being submitted into the emergency room, you suddenly walked away. And when we went to the cemetery and suddenly you told me you were sort of feeling uneasy. You said sorry to me because I will be loving a person who is a coward, and then you started explaining me your four phobias.

Nyctophobia.  A phobia characterized by a severe fear of the dark. You couldn’t sleep with the lights off that’s why you always had a lampshade by your side. I always preferred darkness, and you preferred the opposite. When we were sleeping and I was facing your back, I asked you why and when did it start, you just said with a cold voice, “Everybody hates darkness. People's darkness, all kinds of darkness, especially mine.” I told you, “Not me.”, only to found out you were already asleep. And yet I still did it, I looked into your darkness and explored it. I didn’t see pure darkness, what I saw were tears formed by solitude, your past that you were trying so hard to forget, your broken pieces that you abandoned for they could never be fixed, and stars. My love, I saw stars. You thought darkness consumed you so much that you didn’t have light in you anymore, but you still have. Your soul was the perfect combination of lightness and darkness, and I loved them both. Even in your darkest times. I loved it even more when I came home late at night and was surprised it was all dark, you didn’t have a lampshade beside you anymore.

Phasmophobia.  Fear of ghosts. The word originates from Greek word 'phasmos' which means 'supernatural being/phantom’.  That’s why we all had movies and books with all genres except horror, except the ones with ghosts. You had a nightmare back then, filled with ghosts, I held you and assured you they aren’t real. While crying, you said, “They are. And the worst are the ones you never expected.” I didn’t get you that time, but I did the moment I saw one too when we went back to your old neighbourhood. They were the ghosts of your past. The ones who left you and still visit you in your sleep. And the different thing here, is that you never treated them as ghosts, instead you treated them as angels. That’s why whenever they scare you at night you mistake ‘guiding’ from ‘haunting.’ But you see, I promise you, that I will never be a ghost of your past, because I am your present and your future. I will also not be your angel because I will never be one, but I will be your someone. Someone who will help you overcome your fear of them, someone who will hold you tight every time they come to you, someone who will make you forget that you even had ghosts in your life. I may be just a someone, but I will be that someone who is always there.

Hemophobia.  The extreme and irrational fear of blood.  You wounded yourself one day and when I was healing you, you kept your eyes closed, because you don’t want to see your blood. You hated white sheets with passion and refused to have them anymore, for blood becomes more visible when it drops on them. And when I was throwing away the sheets I started to realize, I am the girl who bleeds poetry but falls in love with someone who is afraid of blood. You hated red for it signifies pain, you hated blood for it is a reminder that somebody or something hurt you so bad. So I wounded myself, I bled with words that could save you, I didn’t care how many scars I will be getting as long as you know that this blood that is pouring is not caused by pain, but by love. And when my wounds became severe already, you were the one who healed me, the healing didn’t really help that much since you weren’t looking. However one morning, I woke up with my scars getting better and a new bed sheet, it was white.

And your last fear, necrophobia.  The fear of death.  That was the first fear that you have ever told me and I asked you, “Why? Everyone will go there at some of point of their lives. Even us. The thing is you should not think about it.” But you said it was hard, you said it was hard to not think that one day everything will be over soon, that you will be buried to the ground and after some time, people will forget about you and will only remember you when they see your tombstone. I never understood you. I never got to. And that was also the only fear that I didn’t help you overcome. You never did, instead, you accepted it. I knew it by the moment you asked me,

“What are we?”, while playing with my hair.

I sat straight and looked you in the eye,  “We’re in love. And that’s like dying, isn’t it?”

Your beautiful smile vanished from your face and I looked down, knowing that is your greatest fear. I was surprised when you said these words with the voice that I have never heard before,  “As long as I’m dying with you, everything is fine.”

You looked at me like I was the only one you have ever seen. The thing is, I don’t know a lot of things and I have no idea what to do.  But for now, baby,  let us just let love **** us both.

*(k.b)