I am afraid, and of a lot of things might I just add. I'm scared of bugs, disease, close friendships, fast vehicles, alcohol, cigarettes, fire, undercooked food, dirty people, and even myself. I believe my fear has taken a whole new high lately. Every time I'm alone it happens again. It kicks in like a reflex, to begin to worry and fear. I'm a hypochodriac, but not so severe that I can't function in life. Because, that's just it. I can function in life. It's when my life isn't functioning that it acts up.

When I'm around others, I'm effervescent. I'm spontaneous and fun; the life of a party, or the spark of a conversation. I'm the loud one, the funny one, the one who keeps everything lifted. I have high spirits when I'm at school; and rarely ever have bad days. Even when I do have bad days, I'm fine. I'm talkative and laughing, and I'm all right.

When I get home is the other side of the story though. When I'm home, I'm alone most of the time. And being alone is one of the worst things for me. I use to say I was afraid of being alone, but I realized that I'm just human. Maybe I fear lonesome more than others, but I deal with it nonetheless. I'm a teenager, I'll handle being alone at home just fine. It's the lack of contact with the outside world when that 3:15 bell rings that gets to me. I come home, I sit my bags down. I'm still smiling for about an hour. And then the smile fades.

I don't feel good anymore. I have headaches when I'm alone. I can hear my heart hammer in my ears, behind my eyes, in my temples. My stomach hurts, maybe acid reflux? Heartburn? Or is it my heart? I check my pulse. My head hurts more. I lay down. I stare at the ceiling and my eyes begin to burn. I blink. I get up, pull out a sheet of homework. I look at it, but I don't see it. Because I can't focus. I'm alone. I'm distracted by my own world of aches that appear with the passing time. I notice feelings and flaws about myself that I couldn't see before. I'm bloated, my cheek is patchy, my hands are pale, my nail beds thin, my right hand middle finger crooked. My fingers shake when I hold them still, I pop them too much. My toe aches, I might've broken it. My head hurts. Why does my head hurt? My stomach aches, where is the pain coming from?

 I have been to the doctor, but not for all my problems. Once upon a time I was on hormones; for my underactive thyroid. But my mother stopped them. Now my doc wants me back on them. I see the difference, but I would. 

I don't take medications. I don't take Ibuprofens unless my head's about to pop. I'm scared of medicine. So many side effects, so many dangers. What if I mix this and that, and a bad reaction occurs? Better question-

What if something happens? What if I get sick, what if I do have a bad reaction? Who's going to save me?

I'm alone. 

Mom is home, she tells me that I am a hypochondriac and that I'm not dying. Dying is the perfect word. I take it to my mind when I think now. That's how I feel. When no one is around; when no one is there to draw out and pick at my personality. I slowly fall into a winding series of symptoms, and it feels much like dying. That is what I am afraid of. I finally realize it.
I am afraid of dying.
I am afraid of not being able to fulfill my abilities. To accomplish my dreams. I'm scared that I will die before I'm able to overcome my fears. I will die a secretive worrier and yet I'll be loved by those who ''knew'' me. I'll die. That's what I fear. I've accepted death in a long term. Yeah, I'm okay with dying at an older age when my time comes. Yeah... But I don't want to die before proving everyone who has ever doubted me that I can be happy, regardless how many feet come down to stomp my dreams.

I feel like I'm dying. My body feels weak, my head aches, and I'm scared of not being happy with my life. Like now. I have not yet accomplished what I want to. First off, all my friends have graduated. Off they go, to college. Where I want to be. My mother has a boyfriend now, he's a wonderful guy. He keeps her happy- but he also keeps her busy. We don't spend much time together anymore. I miss that. I miss my mom. 

I miss myself. I don't spend enough time out, with others. I don't care if they're strangers or hobos. I need to get out of these damn four walls. I need to flee this place. This bed will be my deathbed if I let it. 

I'm afraid of a lot of things though, beyond just death and lonesome. I'm scared of disease. I'm scared I'll catch something and bring it home. I'll infect the ones I love- and that makes me want to be alone. I'm afraid I'll get ill, and no one will want to care for me when I am. I'm scared that I'll get sick with something super rare, and it'll be uncurable. I'm scared of cancer. Someone once said that when you leave a plastic bottle in the car or out in the sun, and the soda/water in the bottle forms droplets along the inside, that chemicals in the plastic have been heated into your drink. Guess what? I heard these chemicals cause cancer. Did you know that Splenda was said to cause cancer in lab rats? I won't touch Splenda with a ten foot pole. I avoid smokers. I see alcohol, and yeah, I'll have a taste. I'm scared of getting alcohol poisoning though, so a taste is all I ever have. I'm scared of my insides shutting down. I'm scared of having a heart attack because I have naturally high cholesterol. 

 Right now, I'm scared. I'm alone. My mom and her boyfriend are in bed across the house, and I'm sitting here. Laying here. My TV is off because there is nothing on it. I have no Dish or DirecTV, and I don't even have antenna on my TV. I can turn it on, sure. But only if I want to meditate to static. I have this laptop, but my internet connection is just barely too slow to download or watch shows and movies cleanly. We live in a place  circled closely by tall woods. Thus, the connection sucks. I'm staring at my laptop, and when I'm not doing that, I'm staring at my phone. I'm texting my ex. He calms me down, knows how I am. But the connection to my cell phone is bad here. I don't get his text messages for thirty minutes at a time. It takes the same time for a message of mine to even reach him... My stomach hurts right now. Sharp stabbing pains along my waist. I'm bloated and I've been aching all day long. I think of many reasons as to why I'm hurting, but none of them are enough to calm me down. My head hurts, right between my eyes. My ears ring, I won't even listen to music because of it. My cats snuggle against me, it makes me feel a bit better. 

 And it continues. The thing I hate. Every day, cowering in my four walls, afraid. Scared of dying, getting sick, failing at my life. Scared of being alone, scared of being unable to prove the world wrong. 

It comes down to questioning if there is actually something wrong with my body. Something wrong with me...
Or am I making up illusions to make some form of sickly comfort to a greater problem that lies in my head? Am I a mental case?

I can't tell. I'm the patient, regardless the diagnosis. I'm the sick one.
I need a cure.