I always tell people how I'm not scared.

I like blood, I like bugs, all kinds of stuff that tend to
repel humans.
I like horror films and I get a rush of adrenaline when
thinking about hitting someone who tries to attack me in a
dark alley.

Though lately, I've come to the seemingly deeper
realization
that I'm constantly afraid.
I'm afraid of death of those around me, those I love and
whose death will cripple me.
Of all the years I will be (as if) coerced to spend being
lost and locked away alone, years wasted.

I'm afraid that my dog will die;and I will be left alone.
I have constant nightmares of death.
My family always dies horribly.
A car accident, a plane crash, an illness gone wrong.
Just the other day, I dreamed that my brain was bleeding
from my ear, but when I tried to show people -
It had already vanished. And so no one seemed to realize
that something really was wrong;it remained unseen on the
outside.

My dog tends to die semi-peacefully, sick and of old age.
But I'm always near him, tending to him, not leaving his
side.
I picture myself lying in a hospital bed, dying from
something that had gone undiagnosed for a while.
Which makes sense, seeing as I'm quite the masochistic
hypochondriac.
Anyhow, at that point, I give very specific instructions to
my family regarding Gucci and his care.
I plead them.
Because I'm terrified. That then HE will be left alone,
abandoned, not loved to the full extent by those he has
come
to depend on.
And in that moment, it's all I could really care about.

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I'm scared of death. Because of what it would provoke.
Because of the huge hole that would irreversibly widen.
It's the lack that would suddenly have to come onto the
surface and be felt.
And right now I want to continue expressing my thoughts,
but at this point they tend to start branching too rapidly
in a manner that I can't put into words.
I think it's a different line of communication, way of
experiencing insights.
There are thoughts, words, feelings, looks. And this, this
type of thing, it's not something that fluently conveys.
Starting to see, feel, envision these different angles and
situations and parallel inexplicably contradicting looks on
simultaneous visions.


So it feels petty to me to care about a couple holes in my
pants or that I like wearing tights and boxers,
exclusively.
I'm laying my face on the palm of my hand right now. And
the
sensation, I think it's different than the last time I did
that.
There's so much stimulation, everywhere, and I'm grateful
for that.
Feeling, everywhere and everything, it's great and painful
and it's alive and unmistakably a misunderstood cliche (in
my eyes).
And I never want to be numb again. I don't want to be lured
into a freezing bath just so I could feel something.
And I don't want to walk undead in this world, in my world.
I don't want to be a prisoner and I am not going to be a
victim.
And I'm just terrified.