I’m terrified of people. Not scared. Not apprehensive. Not mistrusting. Terrified. Run-to-the-closet-and-hide-in-it-terrified. I don’t dislike them – I fall in love with them quite often, whether as best friends or lovers or family. I fight for them. I fight them. No, I don’t. That strikes the nail on the head quite well. I don’t fight them.
I shiver and apologize just to erase the frown on your face. The curve of your back can make or break my day – if you are standing up a little too straight, as if poising to crouch (with words), my stomach does nervous flips in quick succession. It’s like the geography of your face can alter my mental state. A smile; and my day is validated. Silence, and we’re back to me not being able to go through the day without everything being tinged with – no, drowned in – nervous misery (that’s the worst kind in the misery family, trust me – we’re thick).
My stomach betrays the state of my mind, always. It flutters like a baby bird, it pulls in with gasps of air that have somehow suddenly stopped filling my lungs, it clenches with fear making me forget to breathe. When it decides to do the good old inhale-exhale-deep-breaths-please-calm-down-you-fucking-weakling routine, it sends my mind in a tizzy no less than an existential crisis.
And of course, my exhales are shaky, making me wonder how I’m supposed to be a complete, whole, adult human being but be such a complete invalid at the same time.
Title: Dodie. Sick of losing soulmates.