Something Honest

I'm terrified.

Terrified of the crippling pressure of one's expectations, terrified that my only achievement in life will be surviving birth. Terrified that no matter how much I try or how much someone helps me, that I'll become the object of pity. Terrified of the judgement people hold about my uniqueness; even though I flaunt it like a new set of jewelry. Terrified of myself and what I can become-- mentally and emotionally-- when I do fail. I'm terrified that the people I know the most, the people closer to me than my own family will look upon me with grotesque eyes as if I were Satan. I'm terrified of being alone left to wander aimlessly in my chaotic thoughts. I'm terrified the apotheosis inside my brain will one day be set free, and the supper with which is devours is everyone near me. I'm terrified of my knowledge of the insane and how easily it is to crumble. I'm terrified, most of all, by the fact that no matter I do, no matter who I help, no matter how I help them, I can do nothing. Nothing to fix our damnation. Nothing to repair the scars set upon us by religion and racism, scars that only true peace and acceptance can heal. Scars that the world wishes to heal, but is totally unwilling to step forth and heal them. Scars that permeate into everyone, and the scars that ruin everything. I'm terrified, so utterly terrified.