Maybe

I claim to be a happy person. I have a good family, great friends, a warm house, and enough food to eat. I have internet, special classes, nice clothes. So if I have all of this, why do I still get these unexplained pangs of sadness? Why don't they stop? "She's leaving you," they say to me. "They're all leaving you. He's already left. And they're never coming back." All I can do is listen to them, lie on my bed, and cry.

And I know perfectly well why it makes me so sad. Because out of everything in the world that I could be afraid of, I'm terrified of being alone. Not from time to time, I still enjoy being left alone to be on the computer, or read, or something of the sort, because I know people are just behind the wall. They're still there. What I'm terrified of is people saying "you know what? You're not as great as we though you were. Actually, you're pretty damn horrible and annoying. So we're not going to talk anymore, okay?"

Out of everything I could be afraid of, that is my fear. I'd rather be afraid of something more controllable. Like spiders. At least with spiders I'd be able to crush them with a broom. But I'm stuck with this irrational, uncontrollable fear. I'm afraid to tell people about it because I don't want them to judge me.

So that's my fear. I don't know why I decided to write this, I just did. But I hope you won't find it annoying or unnecessary (even though it is), and that maybe this will give you a little more insight into who I am. But I'm not quite sure it will live up to those expectations, because I'm not even sure who I am.

I don't know what my favorite food is. I don't know what my favorite book is. I don't know what size jeans I wear. I don't know how much I weigh, what I want to do for a living, what kind of people I like, hell, I don't even know what my favorite color is. When I try to put this kind of thing into words, I realize that I really don't know anything about myself, much less about anyone else.

But maybe now you know more about me than I do. And maybe that isn't a bad thing. Maybe one day we can sit down, and you can tell me everything about myself that I never knew. What I look like when I sleep, the way I turn pages when I read, what my laugh sounds like, whether or not I have nice hair. And then maybe I might be able to kiss you. Or at least hug you for a long time. The kind of hug that makes you feel wanted, needed, and everlasting. I think I'd really like that. Maybe you would too.

Maybe someday we could grow up. We could get a car and some money and a map, and take a road trip. Not to any specific place, not to New York or Miami, just to somewhere. And when people ask us where we're going, we'll say "Oh, just somewhere." And then we'll get back in the car and drive, for hours and hours. We'll get our favorite songs on a mix tape, and listen to them the whole time. We'll sing and cry and scream. And we'll runaway to somewhere where the only person who knows me is you, and the only person who knows you is me.

Or maybe we could stay young too. Not young as in "forever young, partying like 1999!" with alcohol and cigarettes, not knowing who we'll wake up next to. Young as in pillow fights, movie nights, and laying on a blanket, staring at the stars. We could do everything we missed out on when we were little. Ice cream on the porch in the summer, swimming in the blow-up pool in the backyard, jumping into leaf piles, and making snow forts. Eating icing from the tub till we feel sick, and singing wildly and so loud that the neighbors can hear us. And at the end of the day, we could put on pajamas, crawl into our fort, and fall asleep in each other's arms. Because then when I wake up in the middle of the night, I'll see you beside me, and I'll know that my fear is just a fear, and that you're still there, holding me in your arms till the very end.

I'm still not sure what the purpose of writing this is. I want to get everything out, I guess. I'm not sure about anything anymore, though. But please, don't find this annoying or irrelevant or embarrassing. When you read it, know that I'm letting down my walls to write this. These words are the truth, the whole truth, and nothing but the truth. You are reading me.