I'm going to give all my secrets away.

From the day he brings his new born girl home, a father lives in fear that someday she'll get hurt... that some day she'll hate him... and worst of all, that someday she'll grow up. 

 But there is one moment a father can't even bare to fear... the day his little B loses her big V.

Someone once told me that the only way to totally get aware from fears is by confronting them... The problem with that idea is it requires one to know the exact thing that they fear. This is an easy enough task if you have a physical fear. For instance Freud and mid twentieth century psychology would place a person afraid of frogs in a room with frogs and over time the subject would realize there is no need for fear.

But that isn't the case with me...

Yes I do have a fear of frogs and toads but it isn't something that needs to be confronted in my opinion. (Of course this could also just be the fear talking).

I am afraid of the non touchable things. And I want to speak of them in the rawest way that I can.

I am afraid of being hated. Simply put this fear comes from a lifetime of feeling like the outsider, both in my home and in an academic setting.

I am afraid of meeting people. This can quite easily be explained by the aforementioned fear.

I am afraid of rejection. I guess this goes hand in hand with the other two fears. But the thing with this is that it truly incapacitates me. I don't try to get around this fear because of my history. I have yet to have any instance where this fear was not justified, and I wish I had never tried to get around it in the first place.

I am afraid of what I have become. I am not the person I was, nor the person I want to be (because the person I want to be is the person I was [don't you love the morbid irony of my life?]). The person i was is caring and fun loving, the person I became over the last year was cold and bitter. This is no ones fault but my own. I was too afraid to confront the things that hurt me and this lack of confrontation morphed my psyche. In the amazing way that is the human mind, when you finally realize what the problem is the solution begins organically. I guess you could say that this is the case with me. I feel more like the person I was than I have in the past year.

I am afraid of my mask. I know that I shouldn't need a mask, but for the past couple of days I have had to show that I am strong. My friends know better and so do you my faithful internet companion, but the outside world does not. This of course is just for my own benefit. I don't want people's pity right now; I want to know that the friends I'm trying to make like me for me, not because they feel bad for me. But my mask is heavy and exhausts me. I am doing everything that I can think  of to be energetic like I truly am but right now I'm kind of dragging my feet, ready for the day to be over so that my battery can charge.

I am afraid people will think I am a monster... I guess this comes from the fact that I think I'm a monster. Allow me to explain. I suffer from something called Dis-associative Identity Disorder. This is a really fancy way of saying I have multiple personalities. So far as I know I only have two... Me and Alyss, who took over my blog for a short while. Alyss came to be when I was raped at 15 (at least that is the earliest I can recall having a need for her, and with DID the personality is created from a need) and I was not aware of her existence until recently, when she decided taking away the things I loved was her new favorite game. I am not sure if she is a good guy or a bad guy... if she wants what's best for me or what is best for her.

I am afraid of Alyss. Not simply the fact that she exists, but who she is and how I cannot fathom her motives. I got close once... She would talk to him and he would recount the conversations for me. I had never felt closer to understanding myself.       But things suddenly changed and her name became like dirt in his mouth and ears. I could tell he hated all mention of it and in that way hated me. He would never admit it, but I could always see it. The distrust in his eyes when he told me he loved me, the distance he kept from me when I was depressed... I lost him long before I lost him... And I knew it was all my fault. If she hadn't been there that wall would not have come up as it did. As I watch the things I love leave me I begin to not only fear her but hate her. She has turned my friends against me this weekend and left me alone... So I have decided to confront this fear in the only way I know... I started talking.
My idol Marilyn Monroe said something that has carried with me in this time of strife...

“I'm selfish, impatient and a little insecure. I make mistakes, I am out of control and at times hard to handle. But if you can't handle me at my worst, then you sure as hell don't deserve me at my best.”

No truer words have been spoken. I have begun telling people about her. So far the people I have told haven't turned away from me... Except for one... and the loss of Joe breaks me to my core. I needed him in this time, because he understood me in a way that few have carried to.

I have a two new fears that have come about in this past week.
I am afraid of trusting. I know this seems contrary to what I just said about talking about Alyss, but in this case it means something different. I am afraid to trust like I trusted him... this goes to my second new fear

I am afraid of love. There is a cruel irony in this. I love the idea of love and all things associated with it, and love has been my driving motivation for almost six years. I have never loved since Spike and never wanted to... But then I did love again and it was pure and happy I thought. But in the way that only seems poetic, I didn't know how wrong I was. I guess you never do. The funny thing is that I still love him, and know I always will. Love doesn't just die or go away. If it does than it wasn't love. But now I am afraid to admit my feelings toward anything... I went to lunch with a friend of mine, and they had one of my favorite desserts. I was ecstatic (everyone needs to binge every once in awhile in my opinion) and went to rant and rave about it to my friend, but as the words "I love this so much" were about to roll off my tongue I stopped; The idea of saying I loved something hurt so badly I no longer wanted the dessert. Not because the word love made me think of him, but because I didn't want to love anything anymore, because love hurts. When I think of the dessert now my stomach turns violently and I realize I no longer want it. I wonder if this is a normal response...