I'm afraid of dying alone. I'm afraid of how I'm always the one Who reaches out to loved ones first. Like they're more comfortable apart from me Than I am from them. And it becomes a chore, a conscious decision To not obsess over how long it's been since we've spoken, And if it means they don't like me or they're just busy. I'm terrified of everything shortening my life span Or the quality of the time I have left. How severely I'm impacted by my own wilting body And how many goals it means will be left unticked. Sometimes when it's night, and the world is covered in silence, I wish to myself that I'd never existed. Such a waste to be given life and to spend it all On illness, misery and loneliness. I'm scared of dying alone, But I'm more scared of living alone. And I am living alone.