I’m Scared to be Alone
A Somewhat Poetic Confession
I’m scared to be alone. It’s the hardest confession I’ve ever had to make. I’m scared to be alone in a world full of people who have people. I’m scared to lie alone at night knowing my neighbours are together making love in their bed. I’m scared to walk alone in the streets, especially when there is a group of people walking side by side laughing. I’m scared to be alone in life.
I’m scared to be alone. I hate attending weddings, I hate it when people dance on the dancefloor. I hate being sitting alone at the bar. I’m scared to be alone when I’m walking home. I hate the idea that at any moment something could happen to me and nobody will witness it or be there to help me. I’m scared to be alone. I’m scared that nobody is going to love me. I’m scared that when I’m forty that I won’t have a nice house, a nice family, a nice friend or a nice life.
I’m scared to be alone. I’m scared of dying alone. I’m scared that nobody will console my mother at my funeral. I’m scared that nobody will show up. I’m scared that I won’t be able to give away my things to someone after I die. I’m scared nobody will leave flowers by my grave. I’m scared of dying in fear and not having someone there, holding my hand.
I’m scared to be alone. I’m scared of never finding ‘my people’. I’m scared that I’ll eat alone every night in silence. No conversations, arguments, debates and confessions shared over wine. I’m scared that I won’t get better. I’m scared that it will always be like this.
I’m scared of being alone.
I’m scared, that right now, I am alone.
