Uncategorized

Philophobia

is fear of emotional attachment; fear of being in, or falling in love.

I’m only afraid of not being loved in return and I fear that I’ll only end up getting hurt (agliophobia). But then again, as Bertrand Russell writes in Marriage and Morals (1929: ch. 19):

To fear love is to fear life, and those who fear life are already three parts dead.

 

Advertisements
Scribblings

3 May 2013, 23:27

I used to walk these hall every day. And every day, I dreaded walking these halls. What would they say? What would they do? Would they measure what I was wearing; how messy my hair was; how little make-up I had on? Never did I walk these halls with my head held high. I looked down. Out of fear. Fear of what might happen if my eyes caught theirs.

            What ya lookin’ at, freak?

I used to walk these halls afraid. I used to look at the floor, at people’s feet. Being back brings back memories, memories that still haunts me in my sleep, memories that turn my dreams to nightmares. Being back is making me wish I didn’t return. It’s too soon. So much has changed, and yet so little. It’s all coming back to me. I remember everything. How I used to hide out in the library. How being around books, especially the old classics – the love stories – became my comfort. My escape.

            Why did I come back for this? Why did I return? These people gave me nothing.

I returned for one reason, and one reason only: to show them I got over it. That no matter how much they tried, they could not break me. I returned to get my revenge. However, now I’m not sure I made the right decision. If I turned around and exited the building, no one would even know I had been here. It would be as it used to be. I would walk these halls as a ghost; a ghost longing for the great escape.

She stopped next to a row of lockers, took a deep breath and decided it wasn’t worth the pain. Instead of entering, she turned around and walked back the way she had come. That’s when she saw him. Her heart picked up the pace; her cheeks started burning. All she wanted was to disappear. Become the freak people didn’t always notice; one among the crowd.

There was only one problem, there was no crowd. He had seen her and she saw recognition in his eyes. Her feet was rooted to the spot. He was walking towards her and she couldn’t move. He looked even better now than he did in high school. College had been good to him and he was handsome in his suit. The closer he got, the more her body was shaking. She was so certain he had seen her. But, instead of saying hello, he walked past her and continued towards the cafeteria. Her heart exploded with pain and anger. She felt hurt. How could he still hate her after all these years?

Why did she come back for this? She should have known nothing good could have come from it. The people here had never given her anything. Her revenge wasn’t worth it. She was still walking these halls as a ghost. What good was revenge if they didn’t notice her – if they didn’t see her?

Poem

Take a walk,
Forget time and place
Walk over the bridge
Feel  fear fill your body
And the heart in your throat

Stop the thoughts
From running wild
Put on some music
And forget the world
Just for a little while

Let your mind go
To its happy place
Smile, please don’t cry
This life is not bad
It’s not bad at all

Let your shoulders down
You’re too young to worry
Forget your troubles
Things will fall into place
And don’t worry it will all be okay

©

Poem

First you’re going to smile.

But then what?

What to do next?

♥ 

That’s the scary part.

Not knowing what will happen.  

What happens after the smile?

♥ 

Will it be returned or will be it ignored?

Will your dreams be crushed?

Or will your dreams come true?

♥ 

It’s time to take chances –  

Let down the wall

You need to open up and let people in

First you’re going to smile.

Take a chance –

See what happens 

©

Poem

I’m still a coward –

And a heartless bitch

I’m a heartbreaker,

I’m cold as ice

What am I afraid of?

What do I have to lose?

What do my eyes hide?

Can you see my soul?

I’m the great pretender

Pretending that I don’t care

Ignore you

When all I want is to meet your eyes

What am I afraid of?

What do I have to lose?

You were never mine

I have nothing to lose 

I’m arrogant; a coward; 

A heartless bitch

I’m afraid to fall 

But still, I want it all 

 

©

Poem

Even the pictures remind me of it

But I didn’t do it.

I remain a coward –

A heartless bitch.

Remember to smile, the pictures say.

Are they mocking me?

Playing tricks on me?

I know I forgot –

I didn’t forget.

I said I was a coward;

I’m a complete idiot.

I tell myself it’s too early to smile

I tell myself it’s not worth it –

I’m not worth it,

I’ll never be worth it.

I’ll never be good enough for you,

I’ll never be pretty enough –

Or skinny enough.

Why bother?

Why care?

Why be brave?

I don’t know how to show it,

I don’t know where to find the courage.

I’m pathetic, I know

It’s one of many parts of myself I hate.

I’m the great pretender –

I pretend I don’t care

When I see you, but I do.

I might be a coward,

But I care, I really do.

©

Poem

A newfound spirit from deep within

A white sheet of paper, no words to begin

Rooted in fear, the eye shed a tear

Bright blue sky makes shadows come alive

Try to remember the words I know

A desperate need to fill the white paper

I have to do it now and not a moment later

A mind divided between the two

Who to be; what to choose?

Would you believe the words I write?

Can I trust you with my soul open wide?

Some three little words I would like to say

I’m done with hiding them away

Willing to take chances, willing to get hurt

You need to handle pain before joy

A few little words could change it all

If only I didn’t feel so small

I might have told it all

No mind divided between the two

I know who to be and what to choose

I’m ready to face what comes ahead

So what if tears might be shed

I’m willing to do what it takes

Because all I want is to be loved…

©

Uncategorized

It goes deep; these feelings of insecurity I have. They are rooted in fear and growing up being constantly told that no one’s ever going to love you because you’re too fat. Nothing changes even if you change; it’s still the same feeling. The voices are still there. So you look away. You’re ugly. There’s no point. It’s not worth it. You always look away. You live your life, always afraid. Wishing you had those beers in your system. Because then you’d be brave. Then you ignore the voices. You’re being yourself. You’re being confident. You would turn your head and look him in the eye; and smile. Not worrying about what if. You would just do it. No questions asked.

It doesn’t matter where you are or who you’re with. The voices always find you. They seek you out. They prey on you. They keep you down. You put up that wall. Make your appearance seem tough. Eat less, work out more. You run till you faint. No matter what, you always find time to work out. You don’t talk about your past to anyone; afraid of being judged. Afraid they’ll get scared and leave you alone. Afraid they’ll deem you a freak. How to explain that when there was no other way you found something sharp and made a tiny scratch on your right wrist? Still, you never seem to give up. You believe that someday you’ll experience that silver lining everybody’s talking about. Find that special someone who finally makes your life worth living. You have to believe. No matter what you have to believe that life will be okay. You made it this far. There’s no way you can give up now.

Just because I usually don’t cry, doesn’t mean my heart doesn’t’ cry because crying makes you weak. I know how to put on a brave face. I’m a master in wearing different masks. That’s what my past has taught me – to wear masks. Don’t let your bullies see that what they say affect you. Don’t let them see that their words make you cry. Cry in silence. Cry when you’re home in the comfort of your room. Don’t show them you’re weak. They want you to break. They want to feel superior. They want to make themselves feel better and they chose you.

I have experienced how much pain the heart can take. I was broken many years ago. My heart was broken many years ago but it’s still beating. Gradually I’ve glued myself back together. I might be whole again but the scars remain; both physical and mental. They stick with you. Wherever you go, you’ll never forget your past. As long as your heart is beating; the scars will be alive. They did this to you. They broke you.