“I love deadly spiders, so much. I adore violence. I embrace chaos.”

In which I attempt to answer the question, “Why are you nervous? What are you so afraid of?”


I’m scared of hammering sounds in my head. I’m terrified of headaches—they bite like teeth.

I’m afraid of wasting time. I’m afraid to die. I’m afraid my dog will die. I’m terrified to leave without leaving something great behind.

I’m scared people don’t care. I’m scared they do care. I’m afraid I’ll never get my shit together.

I’m afraid of depression. I’m afraid I won’t find a Halloween costume. I’m afraid of letting people down, of losing their respect.

I’m scared of sleeping, of not being able to sleep. I’m terrified of the middle of the night.

I’m scared that I’m too brain-heavy and alien and weird to ever really connect with anyone.

I’m afraid that my dog resents me for being so busy.

I’m scared of throwing up, of shitting myself, of getting so sick I can’t get out of bed or take care of Bucky.

I’m afraid of fucking up; I’m scared of looking someone in the eyes. I’m scared of sober sex and committed relationships. I’m scared I’ll never get to see certain people again.

I’m scared of time passing.

I’m afraid of what people might be thinking about me. I’m afraid something vital will change and I’ll lose my ability to tell stories. I’m terrified of my eyesight getting so bad that I won’t be able to read.

I’m scared of being tired. I’m afraid of cold weather. I’m afraid of my heroes thinking I’m scary or stupid.

I’m scared to go to new places alone. I’m afraid of being unproductive. I’m scared to be vulnerable.

I’m afraid of being embraced. I have a lethal fear of ever being loved.


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