I’m scared of a lot of things.

But mostly I’m scared of closeness. I’m scared of people who are able to break my walls down and see who I really am. I’m scared that they won’t like me, and I’m scared of disappointing them.

I’m scared of relationships, because the ones around me keep on failing — my parents’, my friends’, and most importantly, the ones I start with others. I’m scared of committing, knowing that once I get pulled into someone else’s world, I will forget my own.

I’m scared of pain. I’m scared of waiting for nothing, but I’m more scared of knowing there’s nothing but still hoping. I’m scared of moments that leave me with nothing but my pride and my bruised ego; and still, the willingness to give even those up.

So I try to pretend that everything is a game and that nothing really matters, and that I can deal with life by myself.

Then again, I realize: nothing is scarier than the thought of being alone.