#phobias
I’m not afraid of heights, but of the fall.
I’m not afraid of addiction, but of the withdrawals.
I wish I could stop these circling thoughts,
But they keep on spinning.
I’m not afraid of imperfection, but of failure,
Miserably luring me,
To an askew belief.
If I fail once, was I a failure all along?
Can I do anything right?
Just add it to the tally,
Ever growing.
Another note to my somber song.
I’m not afraid to die, but of saying goodbye.
These thoughts, while dark sometimes,
I’d give everything to think of them one last time.
These fears remind me that I’m alive.
I’m not afraid of people, but of being judged.
Anxiety plunging me,
Into fictitious security.
Perhaps, I’m better off on my own,
All alone.
But you lose the chance to form connections,
To enjoy the people that surround you.
Perhaps, I should stop playing this game,
And admit that I am very much afraid.
Aug 10, 2025
Aug 10, 2025 at 9:31 PM UTC
do you love me Bipolar –
My heart is in a bit of disorder;
ordering my emotions, suspended by
the winds blowing me into my
Mood swings.
Does loving me sometimes feel
too irrational – do I
give you a sense of Phobia; I
cannot Lie; I have
_thanatophobia_
and the someone I love,
that I fear losing - in All honesty,
is losing myself to _Love…_
Feb 6, 2025
Feb 6, 2025 at 4:55 AM UTC
I fear the finality
Of everything.
So nothing
Ever begins.
Apr 18, 2021
Apr 18, 2021 at 2:02 PM UTC
Fear of them, I fear them,
No not men, just the idea of them,
Actually no, the idea I quite like;
It’s the non-real reality that scares me,
Terrorises me just a little if I stop to think.
No it’s not men, it’s just people.
Maybe it’s all just my social anxiety,
Talking to me again in a slightly different way,
I mean, I know anxiety can change but it doesn’t, not for me:
I know me,
I just don’t know what I’m scared of really.
I can’t believe I dare to write this,
Go away Chloe, just shut yourself up inside again,
Then you won’t have to think about anyone.
Well that’s a lie, I think about people all of the time;
The people I could have, the people I won’t, people I wish existed but I sadly know never will
(I convince myself they will anyway),
And when they’re not real, I’m not afraid -
Because I’m not afraid,
I started this all up as a game.
Did someone ever tell you, you should never read lists of phobias you know you don’t have?
Well I’m telling you, don’t. You might get some.
But do you ever daydream of your perfect soul mate?
Because then I think of guys, like: real guys that actually do exist
And then I’m just like no, no I’ll stay away,
Not today, not tomorrow, I’m not ready.
Then I realise I’ll never be ready.
I’ve noted the slow progression of “could you really be scared of that Chloe? Sounds pretty stupid.”
So I’m like no, no I can’t be,
And then I get these little feelings sometimes,
Which makes me kind of go, “really are you?”
But I’m not because:
That wouldn’t make sense
And
People who know nothing on the internet say that’s sexist without knowing what they mean.
If someone actually had a phobia of the opposite *** or gender it wouldn’t be their fault, because it’s a ****** phobia.
I don’t have phobias though, not one.
Maybe social anxiety, maybe another one, maybe I’m getting one more,
But really I must just be exaggerating.
I know it’s not a phobia - that’s not what I’m claiming,
But when I imagine having a reality where...
Well it just kind of scares me.
Jan 7, 2020
Jan 7, 2020 at 5:45 PM UTC
Panphobia
The fear of everything
Oudenophobia
The fear of nothing
May 24, 2019
May 24, 2019 at 6:17 PM UTC
They're everywhere
On the street, on the walls, in my house.
Crawling everywhere, on everything
In my room, on my bed, all over me.
Up my arms, through my toes, in my hair
Taking over my mind, over my senses
Covering me, suffocating me, killing me.
Nov 8, 2018
Nov 8, 2018 at 9:32 PM UTC
Warm sauce
as hot as my blood
splattered all over the floor.
Spit out,
puked up,
you slammed my head on the floor.
Mop up or eat it.
You used my mopped head to clean it.
Ever since then, I couldn't eat spaghetti again.
Oct 22, 2018
Oct 22, 2018 at 1:25 PM UTC
*As the crowd moves around me
I cower
and make myself
as small as I can
My eyes burn
and my chest hurts
"don't hurt me"
I think
as I cry so hard
my throat refuses
to let me form sentences
people ask what's wrong
but I can't answer them
"I'm sorry, I'm sorry, I'm sorry"
Is all they can make out
and all I can make escape my lips
I'm sorry I'm scared, but I don't know what to do
Please forgive me
and don't hate me
for the fears
I can't control*
Nov 15, 2017
Nov 15, 2017 at 10:15 PM UTC
When thinking of fears or phobias you might think...drowning...the dark...driving...etc. But, some peoples phobias are different; as they are fearing true love or medications. As mine is oblivion, the meaning is I want to carry a legacy as nobody really knows the REAL definition. Some people want money, fame, girls/boys, the world as for me... I just want somebody to know my name, or to hear my stories or as to love me for me. Well, the truth about this is anyone can reach oblivion so why is it my phobia? Well, I know I'm nothing to be dwelled on or cried on. Well, maybe someone will but, will my friends stay with me until the end? WHO KNOWS but I want to be known as someone who helped others to be known; then to be known myself. So I guess I don't want to be known or to be seen but one thing I do want is TRUE LOVE. So, whats your fear? Well, mine is oblivion as for I don't want to be known. Do you want to be above oblivion? Because I don't it's selfish and so known.
Nov 1, 2017
Nov 1, 2017 at 9:27 PM UTC
My sister howled with the dogs at the end of the street
her teeth looking more canine than theirs with her jaw-hinged open and her gums shining
as she became every house in our neighborhood
fingers woven into a chain link fence around her ankle
as if to create a barrier between the throbbing and the cool stroke of the air.
I couldn’t decide if her ankle looked broken-hearted or dumb,
slumped over like it was on a bus, snoring and dreaming of the stop it had just missed.
The sky slowed down to melt into navy and rosy tie-dye at the same rate as her ankle, although her face got there first
and I swore I heard the sidewalk crack lightening into her bone as soon as she landed,
I brought it up every time someone knocked on the door or dropped a dish until she wasn’t there to bring it up anymore,
but her hands always kept steady when she said she never heard a thing.
In the car ride to the hospital my skull trembled at the high frequency of my sisters screaming.
I crossed my fingers that she would stop, but not too tightly
remembering that ripe carrot snapping into two sound
acutely aware that I had never felt my own bones living in my body until now
how every pothole made them tingle and catch fire
and I sat ghost-still until we got home.
I am a spread of limp appendages on a cold metal table when I get my first piercing.
I imagined that I looked a lot like my sister when her ankle fell apart
or each time she made sure to draw out her goodbyes as our mother fell apart.
The piercer clamped down on my belly button with an instrument that looked like something you would use to snap stubborn lobster legs
my belly button dangerously residing only a few skin creases away from my rib cage
skin seeming too thin to protect bone when in the process of perspiring,
like paper that has soaked for days.
I hoped that rock won against paper in an alternate universe.
Breathe in he said, like my sister couldn’t that day,
breathe out and it was over and I was closer to understanding what it felt like to have a bone double over
but I knew this wasn’t it
it wasn’t even close.
When my sister died
I tried pulling back my pinky until it collapsed in exhaustion from fighting back,
but I couldn’t finish it off, couldn’t put it out of its misery.
I wanted to know if death or a bone breaking hurt more.
Sometimes my body flushes with the thick shade of shame at the thought
that a shattered pinky could hurt more than the empty spaces,
that I would trade my sister’s dead body for the safety of my own,
that if I hide from broken bones in the soft confines of cushy couches and toddler heights,
then what does broken feel like when it defines more than limbs.
Mar 31, 2017
Mar 31, 2017 at 8:53 PM UTC
I'll be strong for you.
Usually I'm the anxious one,
Scared in crowds and streets.
But your pain is crippling you;
And I know I can be strong.
Feb 17, 2016
Feb 17, 2016 at 4:30 PM UTC
How hard it is to really live your life
when all your fears in your mind are strife;
the fears that keep you hidden in your room
afraid to leave in case those fears become realised in all it's gloom.
Like the skies I cannot hold the pressure, feeling so very snowed under;
With my mind in turmoil and at the end of my tether, I'm ready to explode just like the thunder.
Dec 25, 2015
Dec 25, 2015 at 3:53 PM UTC
She is trapped in her head filled with dreams and nightmares.
Sometimes she falls into a deep despair.
A life of happiness is what she craves;
Before she’s dug beneath her grave.
What was once a reality is now in the pass;
Yet it still suffocates her like a thick toxic gas.
She screams out in silence for her Utopia.
Hoping to escape all her phobias
Her dreams held so much potential.
But her nightmares were more confrontational
If only she knew what she was capable of
Maybe she would be able to fly up above
Up above all her nightmares
And conqueror all her fears
But instead she’s drowning
Drowning in tears.
Jul 17, 2015
Jul 17, 2015 at 5:18 PM UTC
Everything stops when I see the blur
hear the low, vibrating buzz
RIGHT IN MY EAR
Flinch
spasm
FREEZE
My muscles
every last one
tense and rigid
Don't
Move
An
Inch
My head snaps to my shoulder
My hands fly to my neck
my signature tic
protect my ears protect my head
or the monster
the horror
the bee
will fly into my skull and-
I feel its legs covered in short fibrous tendrils oh god no
scuttling inside my head an itch I can't scratch
a whimper lodges in my throat
threatens to turn into a
SCREAM
-into my brain
the blur flashes by
as sweat r
o
l
l
s
down my back
MY SKIN IS BURNING EVERYTHING IS BURNING
the wasp in my head is
STINGING ME EVERYWHERE AT ONCE
Tears sting
Arms sting
everything stings
**** this phobia!*
Sep 18, 2012
Sep 18, 2012 at 8:59 PM UTC
Big open spaces, big open spaces.
This chant spills from taut lips
hanging on constrained breath.
It’s not real, it’s not real.
This chant sends hands to cover eyes
wide in fear of still blank spaces.
He can’t hurt me anymore, he can’t.
This chant brings arms up to cover
once bruised faces fresh with phantom pain.
Don’t look down, don’t look down.
This chant steadies trembling feet
walking over fears now conquered.
It has to get better, it has to.
This chant loosens the noose
wrapped tight around the jugular.
I’m still here, I’m still here.
This chant is whispered when
the water recedes and the sun returns.
Dec 27, 2014
Dec 27, 2014 at 10:35 AM UTC
"
Storms are beautiful
Even though their fierceness
Shades their inner
beauty
Astraphobia drives those
Who fear
To scramble for
shelter
Ignoring the way
They shape the sky
To decorate it
From the common
Sight of
stars.
"
Sep 4, 2014
Sep 4, 2014 at 12:02 PM UTC
It doesn't creep around slowly.
Everything is fine one moment,
the next it isn't.
It hits like a bus
when your back is turned.
Sometimes
you know just before
that something's wrong
and then,
suddenly
it hits
a punch to the gut
crippling
tearing open the hole
you thought was closed
ripping it's edges larger
and larger
with each passing second
screaming isn't an option.
it never has been.
you just deal with it
breathing a little to fast,
trying to rip your thoughts away
but being dragged back in
****** in
until its all you can think about .
Most of the time people don't notice
you almost wish they would.
but when they do notice
it's even worse.
Sometimes it doesn't bother you
Often, though, it does.
When it does
Its a fear
worse than death.
May 26, 2014
May 26, 2014 at 4:21 AM UTC