f e a r o f t r u t h

He says that my problem is that I’m dictated by my emotions rather than logic-a typical girl thing. “It’s because you have estrogen”. But I must try to use logic before emotion. “Emotions are beautiful, but they should not alter your perceptions from reality”. Yes, emotions are beautiful, but they are not the truth. They are purely subjective. 

Okay, so I can see where my demons sprout from. I suppose it all goes back to insecurities. I think I wanted it to be something else, just because of the pathetic connotation that goes along with the phrase “being insecure”. I wanted it to be some deep, dark destructive monster inside of me that keeps me from getting close to anyone, but no. I’m just terrified. I’m terrified out of my mind and that feels really relieving to say.

I’m scared of being myself because what if other people don’t like who I am, and then I’m stuck being this unlikeable person? I’m scared of getting close to people because then they’ll see how scared I am to be myself. I’m scared of never getting over my fear and dying as a sad, bitter old lady. I’m scared of myself because my moods are unpredictable, and alter my perception of the world around me. I’m scared of myself because sometimes I have everything under control, and then the next second it’s like I’m no longer on auto pilot and I have to steer this machine that I don’t know how to operate. I’m scared that I’m so scared of myself. God I’m so so scared.

And sad.

He says that I need to go back and find the root of the problem. If I can find what has caused me to be afraid, I can accept it and move on.

But I know the root of the problem. In fact, I have taken my past and analyzed it down to the timeline of events that have caused me to be afraid:

  • I’m the youngest of my family, which helped shape my naiveness and sensitivity.
  •  My sister bullied me when I was a child and teenager. We had a toxic relationship, and I was completely dependent on her approval in order to feel good about myself. She constantly and unknowingly tore me down during puberty, which is a vital and awkward time in one’s life. She heightened my insecurities with out even realizing it.
  • My naiveness got me into trouble at my first high school party. I drank too much and  lost my virginity to two older guys in one night…I’m not sure which one took it first. One of the guys dated me out of guilt. I felt like a complete idiot. Again…my insecurities were heightened. I broke up with him because I could’t handle how much I disliked myself.
  • The summer before my freshman year of college, I had sex for the first time since the incident. I met this man at a bar, we had some drinks, and I completely fooled him into thinking I was a 23 year-old in physical therapy school. There was something so liberating about being able to pretend that I was someone else. I went home with him, had sex that I barely remember, and woke up the next morning to an empty bed and an empty conscience. I felt guilt free and there finally seemed to be hope. I mean, if i could fool him into thinking I was confident, artsy, and had a fucking clue; than I could certainly fool 18-year old guys. My craze for men began.
  • I became so used to putting a facade up–the mask that says I’m sexy, mysterious, artsy, and deep; the full package, really. And guys bite the bait SO EASILY. But what happens when they want to go on a second date? And a third? It’s not like my facade is a fully-developed person. I can keep them at arm distance for so long until they start to catch on. You’d think this would drive them away, but no. They become more intrigued. They think “this girl must have some huge secret”. I remain romanticized in their mind, but it will only be temporary because I know I can’t handle them discover the scared little girl hiding behind the mask. I drop them, and I move on to the next one to repeat the whole process over again.

When you think in a situation “what would my alter-ego do right now?”, that’s when you know you’ve completely lost yourself.

He saw straight through my mask from the beginning. When he speaks, it’s not to the deep, sensual woman. He speaks directly to the scared child. It sends the heat rising to my face. I have to keep chain-smoking cigarettes in his presence… it’s the only thing vouching for my mysterious image.  His intelligence, confidence, and manipulation is no match for my phony portrayal of myself. I feel naked in front of him. And god does he know it.




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