Dying Alone
I don't know how to tame the fear I feel
For it shifts its shape each time I approach
One moment it is frivolously vain
Does this shirt make me look fat?
Do these pants make me look stocky?
Are my thighs actually that big?
Do I look gay enough? Too much?
Or am I just stereotyping myself?
Trivial, these fears are just the vanguard
They open the field of possibilities
Perhaps it doesn't matter how I look
But I'm afraid that it does
Swiftly those fears are subsumed
As their bolder relatives arrive
Am I attractive enough to pull them?
Does that person even know I exist?
Does that person I need even exist?
Even so, why would they choose me?
I have a lot to offer, right?
Financial stability, friendship, humor
Compassion, concern, and zeal
Loyalty, attention, and care
Those are all what I can do for them
But is that possibly enough?
Can I not do more? Be more?
(Would I actually give them me?)
I don't really believe that they could love me
Just because of who I am
If I weren't able to do anything for them
That's called value: what you can give
At least that's what the world teaches
Some part of my heart rebels against it
But it's smothered by conditioning
Even so, these fears are small potatoes
They're not yet existential
But those are coming too, fear not
Well perhaps I'll be fine without them?
Yes, yes… yes, perhaps I will be
But then there's the little thing: dying alone
But no, we won't think about that (yet)
Still, what is the weight of a life without?
Without kisses and smiles in the morning
Without dates and adventures
Without sex or intimacy or romance
Bearably unbearable it seems
For the thought is unbearable
But the reality is all I've ever known
After all, 12 years is a long time
What more could a lifetime be?
Twelve years is a long time
Enough to build emotional barriers
To protect from these fears and the world
My defenses have saved me
They also hurt me
Those walls I built to keep the world out
To keep myself safe
I have to climb back over to see a future
Then I'd have to knock them down
If I want to ever reach what I see
I'm afraid I'm not up to the challenge
Why abandon safety and control?
Especially when that future is distant
And the odds are unfavorable
But I have my friends, my family
Surely that counts for something?
It does, certainly… and it also doesn't
None of them can fill that space for me
But perhaps the spaces they do fill are enough
I have to hope that it is so
I love them dearly and would give everything
I won't die alone since I have them
But a part of me would, a part never shared
But what does that part matter?
Since I don't believe I deserve that love
Since I'm not worthy of that anyway
And what if I did make it over the wall?
What if I did knock it down?
I'm largely happy with who I am, I think
Besides this part that tears me to pieces
Besides this part I will not claim
What if I'm not actually being the real me?
What if I don't like the real me quite as well?
What do I have to sacrifice to become them?
What if I sacrifice too much to become them?
Trauma, trauma, trauma, trauma, trauma
The contemplation and second guessing
The worry and anxiety and pain
This part of me is ruled by trauma
I'm afraid this part of me is only trauma
Fear of dying alone
So fatalistic. So distant. So pessimistic.
Yet also a daily companion
In many ways closer than the people I love
Most people fall asleep next to someone else
It creates some level of connection
I fall asleep entwined with this fear
Not every night, but enough to create intimacy
Perhaps the deepest intimacy I've known