I sit in my home, staring at the wall I always stare at. I can't help the thoughts I’m having in my head. They come during the night. They keep me awake, constantly lurking, begging me to deny the things they whisper.
You do the same thing every day.It always started with that, didn't it? That was the question that began the endless process. It wasn't exactly a lie. I do the same thing every day. A routine, as if I’d spun around. Everything blurs together, but in the end you're still seeing the same thing.
You're scared of change.That wasn't really a lie either. I was frightened by the idea of things changing. And yet, I didn't want to stay in my dull life. No, I didn't just now want to. I refused to. Yet, how could I stop the routine I fell into every day? How could I make it more interesting?
You feel alone.Why did it always target my secret doubts? My hidden fears? Somehow, it always targeted me in the spots where I was weakest. I did feel alone. Always had. I hardly ever talked to others. It was normal. Routine.
You're scared of being alone.I am scared of it. I'm scared to think nobody cares. Maybe it's part of the reason no one is actually able to get in. I won't give them the chance, because I'm scared to be tossed away. Is it my fault I'm alone? Is my fear of it the reason it's happening?
You're scared to be alive.Yes, I am. I'm scared to think of how I could end up feeling. I don't suffer much the way I am. If I become "alive", in all senses, would it change things? Would I be hurt? These statements just make even more questions. But I want to actually experience life. I don't want to feel like I'm just watching everyone else live, while I watch from the distance. What if my life becomes awful?
You're scared of trying to fly, only to fall.I am. I'm afraid to fail. I'm afraid to think I can do something, only to fall back and find that I can't. That I am unable to fly, like I want to, and that I'll plummet and fall on my face. It would be simpler to stay in this ordinary life, if you can even call it that. Easier to accept that I will never have a better reality than what I have.
You want your life shattered.That's what it all comes down to, isn't it? Do I want my life to shatter, to break apart, and risk being unable to put it back together in a way I want? These doubts fly across my head, begging me to answer them. But I can't.
I retreat to my room, to try and gather some sleep. Perhaps tomorrow I can answer those questions, and finally rid myself of them by deciding.