Before you jump to conclusions like, ‘She may be afraid of ghosts’, or ‘She is paranoid’, or ‘She is scared of murderers’ or something like that, I am sorry to break your thought run, but the thing I’m afraid is far worse than any of it.
I’m afraid of Me.
My thoughts when I’m alone.
The bitter truth of reality that I keep dodging.
My questions to myself.
This is the most scariest because there is no escaping it, at all!
I don’t know if any of you had been through this phase, but this is the hardest for me. If you have, then you would get what I’m coming down to.
One is not comfortable to be with people because, let’s face it, we obviously are not in the right state of mind to make conversations. One is afraid to be alone, because, well I have stated the obvious before, we are afraid of own thoughts.
The minute I close the door to my room, the overflowing door to my heart and mind opens and pours out the chastening, questioning, mortifying thoughts and what-not. It brings out a terrible feeling from inside me that, in fact, what is running in my mind is justified.
‘What are you going to do with your life, your future, this-that problems…’, the questions are non-stop badgering on to my face, mocking me to answer them. And so, I try to block out all these by immersing my thoughts at something else and at times, I am successful too. But the more I push it away at the back of my mind, the more it struggles to make a point everyday, pinching me for my attention.
And then there are sometimes when I think that, “Well, it is the kind of life in early 20’s and I’m gonna rock it in my own way.”Those are the times, when I’m brave enough to face myself.