What am I afraid of? I’m afraid of never being anyone’s first choice. I’ve been an only choice. I’ve been a better choice. I’ve been the third or lower choice. I’m afraid that I will always be “good enough”, but never great. I will always be lacking in appeal and overflowing with flaws. I am afraid that I want too much. My expectations are unrealistically high. My needs scream tragedy. My wants whisper desperation. I am afraid I don’t know how to be happy. I cannot even define happiness. A friend once said that happiness is transient. So, if I can’t be happy, what should I aim to be? I’m afraid my scars run too deep. That the pain that feeds my distrust, my insecurities, my doubts, my jealousy, my skepticism, my pessimism will devour my chances to find peace. I’m afraid I’m unlovable. And I don’t know any other way to be.
©01/2016 (another old one, but still relevant)