You’d be surprised, but I’ve always had this
dark side about me.
You’re probably oblivious to it, everyone else
is, and I don’t blame them. I’m aware how much it doesn’t match the exterior.
A friend once told me that I have an old soul. I
don’t know about old, but it’s certainly heavy. I can’t remember when it all
started. I was once a light and happy child, at least that’s how I remember it…
but I also remember being 6/7 and wondering how much of a difference, if any
would it make if suddenly I wasn’t in this world.
I spend a lot of time thinking about tragedies
and death. I’ve always had, for as long as I can remember. I’m not obsessed
with it. And I don’t think about dying. There are so many things I’m afraid of,
so many things… but me dying? I never think about that.
I don’t know where this comes from, as for the
most part I’ve been lucky enough in my life when it comes to the topic. But the
thought are always there, in the back of my mind.
From a very young age I’d draw these stories in
my head, and they were never happy or breezy, they would always involve pain,
sacrifice, loss… or death. Maybe it’s because I always expect the worst case
scenario, and somehow I believe that if I think about it enough I’ll be better
prepared to face it.
I always say I’m a terrible actress, but I guess
that’s not true, because though you’d never believe it, I live in constant
fear. And I’m not talking about that nervous feeling, ticklish stomach,
adrenaline rush type, I’m talking about irrational, overwhelming fear, anxiety,
full on panic. The kind that comes out of nowhere, sometimes for no reason, the
kind that keeps you awake at night, that makes your chest ache, that makes you
want to scream, even if you are the most quietest person you know.
You don’t see it or hear it because I keep it
in check, I bottle it up, because truly, most times, rationally I can see how
insane I’m being (it doesn’t stop me from feeling it, but I can see it). But
can you imagine how it’s like? How exhausting it is to walk yourself through
the same pep talks over and over again?
I’m aware that I fear too much, I use myself
for it, for being such a coward… except I’m not, not really, because I keep
pushing through. Because even if it kills me inside, even if it physically
hurts, I keep throwing myself out there, because for the most part I refuse to
settle.
And I know some of my fears are so ridiculous
that facing them shouldn’t even count for anything… but it does. It does,
because regardless of how ridiculous it was, it demanded a tremendous amount of
effort and energy to do it. And when every day is a battle, you learn to
celebrate the small victories.
All of these thoughts about death and fears, I think
they’re partly to blame for my obsessive need to have it all planned out, to
avoid unpredictability, to be in control. Even if I know that the things that truly
matter are the ones we can’t control at all.
