What if I mess it up and you realise I'm not
"the one".

What if I break your heart and grind the fragments into a million tiny pieces?

What if I say goodbye only to realise that the word I was looking for was
"Stay".

What if you can't handle the pressure of being with someone so beautifully insane?

What if our differences tear us apart and we end a potential lifetime of laughter with
"Sorry".

What if every "what if" I have in my head destroys us before we even begun?

I'm scared of just about everything.

I'm scared of spiders, they have too many limbs and too many eyes and it makes my skin crawl.
Though I stopped admitting it years ago, I am scared of the dark. When the lights turn off and the sun goes down the idea of being alone with no idea of what is around me gives me goosebumps.
I'm scared of being hurt, even though I am always the one who ends up breaking hearts.
However much I ignore it, I am scared of silence. That complete soundless ringing that fills my head and whisks up my thoughts makes me uncomfortable in ways I cannot describe with words.
I'm scared of getting lost, because even though I want to be spontaneous like the cool girls in the movies the idea of not knowing where I am terrifies me.
Despite everything life has thrown at me, I am scared of being myself. I have a million alter egos and personalities stored in my head because the reality of who I am makes me sick.
I'm scared of outer space, and how one little push can send you floating into the unknown without ever stopping.
Unsurprisingly, I am scared of my mother dying. Through thick and thin she supports me and to this day her warth gives me life in ways nothing else does.
I'm scared of the ocean, because even though I love fish I cannot stand not being aware of what is beneath me as I paddle on the surface.
In a sick and ironic way, I am scared of dying. Despite my wishes for death and suicide attempts, when I am in a dangerous situation my stomach clenches and I cling to the life I have.

I'm scared of just about everything,
including fear itself.

I thought I had it figured out,
you were in my past,
something that helped me grow that I had moved on from.

But now when new seeds have taken root,
your corpse is still in the back of my mind,
not rotten but perfectly preserved and it's beauty takes my breath away.

I wish I could bring us back to life,
or for your body to decompose and allow me to find warmth in another.
Instead you stay untouched like a porcelain doll on a shelf just out of reach,
and make all the other toys seem less special.

Chipped nails and ripped tights,
she is delicate and mysterious and beautiful,
but still so dead inside.

I like to enjoy the little things when I can.

I like the feel of warmth on my back when the sun comes out from behind a cloud,
and the smell of clean bedsheets on a Sunday.
I like the happy feeling I get when my best friend rests her head on my shoulder when she doesn't let anyone else get close.
I like the feel of grass between my toes,
and the feeling fuzzy feeling I get when a cat on the street lets me pet it's head.
I like the taste of alcohol late at night when I'm only half sober but I feel completely alive.
I like how safe and loved I feel when I hug my mum,
and the pain in my stomach when I laugh too much.
I like that odd, welcome silence between friends when there's nothing to say but it's okay.
I like the comfort of my bed after many nights sleeping in foreign places,
and the taste of a cool glass of water when you're out of breath.
I like the feel of putting on my old, worn out creepers and how my feet fit them perfectly.
I like how falling snow seems to muffle everything,
and the satisfaction of beating my brother at one of his games.

Not everything worth living for is a big landmark or an event worth celebrating. Sometimes it is the smallest, most insignificant things that make you feel glad to be alive.

I like to enjoy the little things when I can.