May 2015
you're scared. you're scared of a lot of things. you're scared of people seeing through you. "oh my god, you're gay?" you're scared of going to sleep and waking up to the news that your sick mother took her last breath while you were having nightmares about her dying. that's funny. having nightmares and waking up to the exact same nightmare coming true. you're also scared of falling out of love. but you're not scared of your lover leaving you, no, because pain, that you're accustomed to, but guilt? not really.
you're scared. you're scared of running out of time. everywhere you look, people are doing better than you. they have scholarships, they're going places. you're still here, and you're scared that you'll always be here. what would they say when they get back? "poor fellow can't afford further education. how do you get a job?"
you're scared. your hands are shaking. people are trying hard to be your friend, but you know you can't be a good one. you've lost a couple of them. you say the wrong things once in a while but as far as you're concerned, once in a while is enough. boom. disaster. everything which comes out of your mouth is like a ticking bomb, waiting for someone to find a fault in it and figure out that you're not actually as nice as you pretend to be.
you're scared. you feel like you're keeping secrets, but you can't seem to entangle your own thoughts to know what they are. you feel anxious around people you see as being far superior than you are, so you end up hating them. you also feel anxious around people you can see yourself in, so you end up hating them too. they sit next to you at a table and your heart beats fast, your palms turn sweaty, you just want to get out of here. why do you not like these people? is it because they're different from you? is it because you want to be them?
you're scared. you're scared of revealing your sins, of being burned at the stake, or in terms of the 21st century, shunned by the society. you're scared of looking at the rorshach ink blot. you're scared of describing what you see to your psychiatrist. you imagine your psychiatrist thinking, '*******, this patient is ****** up.' you imagine avoiding eye contact with everyone in your pool of contacts, and you're afraid that pool might slowly **** your family in too. you're not diagnosed with anxiety, but you might as well be.
you're scared. you're scared of running out of time. everywhere you look, people are doing better than you. they have scholarships, they're going places. you're still here, and you're scared that you'll always be here. what would they say when they get back? "poor fellow can't afford further education. how do you get a job?"
you're scared. your hands are shaking. people are trying hard to be your friend, but you know you can't be a good one. you've lost a couple of them. you say the wrong things once in a while but as far as you're concerned, once in a while is enough. boom. disaster. everything which comes out of your mouth is like a ticking bomb, waiting for someone to find a fault in it and figure out that you're not actually as nice as you pretend to be.
you're scared. you feel like you're keeping secrets, but you can't seem to entangle your own thoughts to know what they are. you feel anxious around people you see as being far superior than you are, so you end up hating them. you also feel anxious around people you can see yourself in, so you end up hating them too. they sit next to you at a table and your heart beats fast, your palms turn sweaty, you just want to get out of here. why do you not like these people? is it because they're different from you? is it because you want to be them?
you're scared. you're scared of revealing your sins, of being burned at the stake, or in terms of the 21st century, shunned by the society. you're scared of looking at the rorshach ink blot. you're scared of describing what you see to your psychiatrist. you imagine your psychiatrist thinking, '*******, this patient is ****** up.' you imagine avoiding eye contact with everyone in your pool of contacts, and you're afraid that pool might slowly **** your family in too. you're not diagnosed with anxiety, but you might as well be.
