From the outside, I probably appear relatively confident: I smile and make smalltalk like a pro, and due to the thing I do at the weekends and during holidays, I often meet new people. However, on the inside, I’m usually just a quivering wreck, waiting for an insecurity to show itself, or for someone to start criticising me. Regardless, there are, of course, things that scare me — there are things that scare each and every one of us; no one is fearless. Today, I thought I’d write about a couple of my fears — a couple of the things that frighten me.
I’m scared of being alone. I’m not LITERALLY scared of being alone (although being alone in a car, or in a noisy and unfamiliar environment does kinda freak me out); I’m scared of having no one. My friends are the most valuable part of my life; they’re wonderful, and have put up with so much from me. On the other hand, one thing always niggles away at the back of my mind: what if, one day, they aren’t here? I’m not saying that I expect them to, like, drop dead or something: I mean, what if one day I don’t have them, or friends like them? I’ll be alone, tackling this world alone, tackling my problems alone, tackling life alone.
Who will I laugh with?
Who will I cry with?
Who will I text at 2am?
Who will I cry tears of joy with when on the train?
If they don’t want to know me, then that’s their choice, and there are times when I just couldn’t balme them if they chose to walk away. But it scares me to death sometimes, that this might be our last happy conversation before I go and fuck something up by mistake.
Failure is something that scares me, but not in the usual sense of the word. Failure is, in some ways, very subjective; success is defined only by what you want to achieve, after all, and so failure is merely the act of not achieving what you want to. I have hundreds of goals, hopes and dreams — don’t we all?
I want to write a book.
I want to be a journalist.
I want to be a musical-theatre actor.
I want to write a good blog.
Overall, however, I have just one goal: I want to have fun. I want to enjoy myself, and have fun in my life; if we only get one shot, can we at least be allowed to make it as happy as we possibly can?
And so I’m frightened of failing at having fun. It sounds so ridiculous on paper, in black and white, but maybe — just maybe — you understand too. I’m scared that, for whatever reason — financial, or health, or family related –, I won’t be able to have fun. What if, for example, I stop listening to music? I’ll stop enjoying the brilliance of music, and artists, and that will be one pleasure taken out of my life. And I’d fail.
I wonder if these actually make any sense at all — I hope that they do, or that they at least made you think. What are you scared of, in life? I’d love to hear, if you want to share…