You’re scared. You’re scared of being left alone; the unknown; the anxiety; the loneliness. Most importantly, you’re scared of the insecurities. They’re the same insecurities that brought you down your high horse and made you into whole different person. It’s the person you’re scared to become again.
You see, you knew when you were knocked off the pedestal, you reverted back to your own habits. You let in the insecurities that knew how to invade your well-being and twist your mental health inside out. They knew how to bring you to your knees. You see, it’s like the insecurities took over and made you a prisoner in your own body. They possessed you and made you into someone you’re not. Every day, you’d wake up and you went throughout your day as if everything was normal. Let me say that again, “as if everything was normal.”
You knew everything wasn’t normal. You were forced to stay in bed and stare at the ceiling for hours to the point where your back ached from being on it for a long time; where your stomach growled with hunger; where the whole day almost passed by. You were forced to pass on your favorite meal because you were full of emptiness and the crippling amount of depression. You were forced to listen to the voices in your head telling you that you weren’t enough, that you’re never enough. You knew it wasn’t true, but somehow, the voices knew how to get to you. At some point, you started to believe them.
That’s how the insecurities, the unknown, the anxiety and the loneliness got to you. You just shut down. You were constantly blacking out. Everything was just a constant blur to you. You were tired; it wasn’t a tired that you got when you wanted sleep. It was a tired that made you depressed. You wanted to be alone. So, you reverted to the voices that gave the most awful, destructive advice. They were like the screams of the damned; horrible and full of grief. At first, it all sounded like hell. But, like I said before, they knew how to get to you. You weren’t a prisoner anymore; you knew what you were doing and you let them change you. Now, it didn’t sound like the most awful, destructive advice, it sounded like heaven to you.
The insecurities; the anxiety; the depression; the loneliness and everything in between—you were scared of them. You called them, the “it's”. All of the “it's” got to you. You were completely under their control. You let them invade your very being and change you. It’s okay because it happens to others, too. You tried to be strong. But, this didn’t last long.
You wanted to get out of the state you were in so you tried to do anything and everything. You started going out. You took those stone cold pills that loosened you up and made you forget what sober was. You had the stench of nicotine mixed with alcohol and your favorite perfume stuck in your hair. You had gotten used to the firm pull of your friends whenever your mini dress raised up or when your shirt lowered to show you obviously didn’t wear a bra. You tried to give yourself to anyone — that guy in the button up or that girl with the red heels who showed you interest. It would either end up with them leaving hickies up and down your body and almost making it all the way or with one of your friends dragging you away because they knew you were too messed up to analyze what was going on. You wanted to get out of your state so badly that you did anything to accomplish that, but you chose the lifestyle of never being sober. You were gone.
You went out more. You began to drink to the point where you weren’t bothered by the thought of the consequences. The stone cold pills were a gateway to your happiness in a way. At some point, you decided that you hated being sober. At this point, you didn’t care anymore. At a certain point, your friends started to be concern with your well-being again when they found you out of it in a closet, taking the phrase "seven minutes in heaven" to a whole new level. Or a whole new low, for you. Eventually, you started to tone it down. You became more aware of everything. But, this became a lifestyle for you. You got used to being at that point where your throat started burning and your head started to get heavy with that spinning feeling. Unfortunately, this happened every time you found an opportunity and damn, were you persistent when it came to taking that opportunity.
Long story short, you’re better now. You know you have a lot ahead of you. You have goals. You have dreams that you’re starting to pursue. You’re stronger now and have a lot of resilience. Your mental health is at a higher level than where it was before; you no longer have to depend on the alcohol and nicotine to cope with the insecurities nor the anxiety nor the loneliness. You no longer crave a stranger's drunken kiss; you no longer wake up fearing the worst when, in the morning, you find yourself with your skirt down or your clothes scrunched up to your waist; you no longer have to have your friends constantly call you asking if you’re okay because they haven’t heard from you for days.
But, somewhere, far in the back of your mind, you know you could revert back to all of that. And you’re scared. That’s why you fear for the day that the insecurities will come again and the cycle will start up again. You don’t want to revert back to that person. That’s why you try so hard. That’s why you try so hard to be productive because you know, you know that it’s a possibility it can happen again.
And you’re terrified.
