I’ve never been good with 2am loneliness. One of my greatest fears in life is being alone. When I’m surrounded by people, I can be okay. The thoughts disappear, I have fun, and it’s okay. But when I’m alone with nothing but the pouring rain and everything I don’t know how to say, I get scared. It’s always been this way, long before I even knew what heartbreak was. It scared me at three years old, and at twenty-three–with everything I’ve been through, and everything yet to come–it still scares me.
I keep trying to think, figure it out, understand why and how and why. The truth is, even now, I feel split like two different people. The girl who can be okay, or at least fake it with a smile of lies, and the girl who questions if she can make it. The girl who finds her self awake at 5am, torturing herself with the smiling face of someone she doesn’t recognize (but misses so badly). The one ready to throw it all away, only to realize three minutes later she wants to hold onto everything so tight. If you think these posts have been bipolar, you should be inside my head. It’s so easy to say one thing, while feeling another. I want to be strong, but I crack so easily.
And it terrifies me how easy it was slipping back into a state of mind I was so proud to have overcome.