Afraid

I am afraid of people.

I am trying to overcome this fear.

Right now I can only manage to pretend to be a silly clown and make sure each and every person I meet will laugh or smile and think of me not as a threat. I run away from any type of confrontation, I am afraid of raised hands, I am afraid of small spaces and the idea of not being able to escape from a place, a deal, a promise, a contract. I am afraid of men I do not know, men who are not happily married, teenage boys that look like men. I am afraid of overtly friendly women, exceptionally large women, loud women.

I crave closeness and warmth, I crave attention and loving gestures, I crave endless smiling friends who accept me as me. I pity myself too much, I like playing the victim. I like people being extra thankful to all that I do. I am ashamed of my likes. Very ashamed.

I have been hit with health misfortunes over and over again for years and years. Once I feel I can get back up, something will hit me hard so I will be back down in the same hole I just crawled out of with bloody claws, over and over again. I’m tired of it, but I still have to crawl out.

Suicide is not an option. I desire to end it all, but I am not allowed. I can’t yet. The eyes and faces and pleas that tore into my soul is loud and clear. I can’t go yet, but I am tired. I am stuck in this limbo. I have to continue to pretend, I have to keep wearing this mask. I do not think I deserve to be here. I just have to be here.

I am lower than a maggot. I am cruel and evil. I am most likely a bully. I am a coward. I am not worthy of anything I have, yet I continue to take and take and take.

I am sorry. I am really really sorry that I am alive, I should not be, but I have to be.

I am afraid to do it myself. But if someone does it for me, I might let go. I deserve all this. I am not a good person. I am a liar.

I am sorry. So so sorry. I am sorry I am still alive.

Please forgive me.