Fears

Some people have fears. Most, if not all do. Some few have managed to not fear anymore, and some others were born in such a way they couldn't feel fear. Fear is a complicated topic.

A lot of people fear death, rightfully. Death is a scary place, should you account for all that it entails. Yet it is far from the more widespread ones. They are surprisingly simple in most cases, yet valid nonetheless. Fear of speaking to an audience, fear of tight spaces, fear of heights, fear of planes. All of these are rational fears, rooted in a specific event of one's life in all cases. Fear is a natural reflex, of self-preservation. You fear something because you know it is not good for you, you know that in a situation that causes you to fear you'll fare significantly poorly.

As part of a poor technique to vent out my fears, I'll kindly ask you, dear reader, to share with me your fear, the one that can make you stop functioning for good. The one thing you'd wish on no one. Now, don't hurt yourself by thinking about it, but I would kindly like to know what you have to share.

My fear, if you would like to know of it, is being forgotten. I care little for being alone, I fare better in silence. But what scares me is having no one to talk to, at all. Being invisible to the world. Being lost alone in the room or being stuck among a large crowd where nobody even notices you exist, what could be worse? Both scare me like little else. The fact is that one day, everyone I know will be dead, everyone who thought of me will be dead, and the last traces of my existence will be lost to time or stored in data vaults, barely scraping what corps could find of me online. Doesn't help that I plan to end my branch of the bloodline.
There is a subtility of all this. It's more than agoraphobia, more than autophobia, it's a real fear of not being alone, but being left alone.

I've been part of a small online community for 3 years now. I've been invited last July to a secluded subgroup, with a tighter circle of friends. I should be honored of being invited among them, they say by this that they are honored to have me among their close friends. And yet I still feel terrible about it because the group was already 4 months old. And I seemingly wasn't worthy of being there until then. Or such is how I think of it. And I know I'm wrong. There's this nagging feeling in the back of my head, that just keeps pushing and pushing and pushing.

Life is hard. Can't breathe. I wonder how this all will end.

That's it from me. Sorry for imposing my venting to you; but I really needed to.