"Dark Perspective"-Chapter 1.2 - TERRIFIED

I’m terrified when people look at me. Their eyes pierce through my soul, as if they’re unraveling all my secrets, all my darkest fears. I see judgment in their eyes, even if it might not be there. Or maybe it is, and I just can’t tell the difference between what’s real and what fear creates in my mind anymore. Every word that leaves their mouths feels like a sentence, a condemnation of the failure that I am.

Everyone has fears, I know. But mine feels different, like it’s... incurable. It’s a fear that doesn’t just live in me but feeds on me, draining any trace of hope I might have. It’s a black hole that consumes everything around it, leaving only a cold, desperate emptiness. They talk about facing your fears, but how do you face something that’s already become a part of who you are? How do you open that door when you’re already so lost on the inside?

They say that on the other side of that door lies courage, freedom, peace. But what do they know? They’ve never been in my place, never felt this suffocating despair, this cowardice that eats away at every fiber of my being. For them, it’s easy to talk about overcoming, about moving forward, but for me... for me, every step toward that door feels like an invitation to ruin, a promise that, if I cross it, I’ll shatter completely.

And what if I fail? What if I’m not strong enough? No one talks about that, about what happens when you try to be brave and all you find is more pain, more emptiness, more loneliness. The scars don’t fade away, they pile up, turning into burdens I don’t know how to carry. And every day, I feel like I’m losing myself a little more, like I’m drowning in a sea of despair from which I don’t know how to escape.

I wish I could be brave, could look the world in the eye and not feel like I’m falling into an endless abyss. I wish I could believe there’s something better waiting for me on the other side of this darkness. But deep down, all I see is more darkness, more emptiness, and I wonder if I’ll ever find a way out. Maybe the truth is that fear has already won, that it’s become a part of me, and I don’t know who I am without it anymore.

And maybe, just maybe, the greatest tragedy is that deep down, I don’t want to find a way out. Because fear, with all its pain and suffering, is the only thing I have left, the only thing that still makes me feel anything, even if it’s just a distant echo of the life I once imagined having. And maybe, in that echo, I find a strange and sad company.