Is it better to speak or to die?

I haven't even stopped to think about what i want to write, all I know is that I have this feeling, this craving to let out the loud thoughts that cloud my mind. The problem is that there's so many, I don't even know where to start. 

I open up in this blog in ways I could never even dream to in real life to anyone, because it seems much easier. Just saying whatever and leaving it out there for some strangers on the other side of the world to read, knowing it's a hidden post only some might find, and I most likely won't ever meet any of them. Yet still, this yearning want for someone in my life to find it and read it is brutal. For them to read me, to know me for who I am and what I feel. To understand the depth of my most intimate frustrations and fears. But I wouldn't want to show it to them myself, no. I'd wish for them to casually bump into it. To see it, and read it out of curiosity, and figure out it was me behind each word themselves. For the jigsaw to fall into place in their brains as they relate each of my subtle attitudes or actions to every confession I posted. And not to be judged.

To be stripped of every bit of camouflage in front of them and recieve a gentle, understanding look instead of a glare, pity or fear. To have someone want to stay, even after knowing. For someone to treat me the same and not make a big deal out of it, but yet still aknowledging me and my flaws, and still choosing kindness. 

What is it that I trully crave? Understanding? Trust? Love? Attention? 

I'm so afraid. What if I died tomorrow? I'm not scared of the fact that I would die, but the fact that I'd die and nobody would truly know me. That all these thoughts and emotions would die with me, and be forgotten as the flesh in my brain rots underground. 

So if you're here, and you know me, I'm really sorry I wasn't brave enough to bring myself to speak.