I am ALWAYS afraid. Afraid of making the wrong choices, of being alone/being left, of the future, of myself.
That strong willed/bitchy/angry/in-charge/always right woman that the world sees? You know, the one who has NO PROBLEM making decisions and then forcing them on everyone else? Yeah, HER. She’s an act. A mask. A character I play. The REAL me? She’s that vulnerable girl you met one summer many years ago.
She’s paralyzed by too many choices, by the fear that she’ll make the wrong one. She flinched when people yell at her. It embarrasses her, so she yells back, trying to cover the fear so you can’t use it against her.
She’s a mess of contradiction and chaos. With her head in the clouds and her feet on a crumbling foundation of lies.
She always puts herself last. Not because she doesn’t think she’s important enough, but because she’s been told so many times to “stop being selfish”.
She’s afraid to ask for help. Not because she thinks you’ll say “No”, but because she doesn’t want to take your attention away from something she’s sure is much more important.