The fear is always there.  It lurks just below the surface prodding and pushing, demanding and dragging me places I don’t want to go.

I’m not afraid of death.

I’m afraid of life.

I’m afraid of waking up to a world I reject.  I’m afraid that the words ‘it won’t always be like this’ are hollow and void of any real power.  I’m afraid that the next bend in the road will lead me somewhere darker than death.  I’m afraid of being unknown, unwanted, rejected and alone.  I’m afraid that the next time someone asks me how I am doing I will tell them the truth and then I will have to watch their eyes widen and their face flush before I make a joke to relieve the awful pressure of reality pushing down on us both.