zinzinish

Lots of things scare me. Like pigeons with their beady red eyes, and flying, and really pretty girls and really pretty boys, and fluorescent lights. These are healthy fears; they help govern my life. Like I will probably never get bitten while feeding some dirty bird, and being afraid of flying makes the process of travelling less mundane, more like an adventure.

But I have this crippling fear of separation. When I had my first boyfriend in high school, we would talk on the phone every night, until we ran out of things to say, and then we would sit in silence, sometimes for hours. I would almost always fall asleep this way, incapable of saying goodbye. When it came time to break up with him, it took me months to say the words. It sounds silly and cute now, but I feel like I’m fighting to not be that weak little girl all the time. It’s still a little triumph for me to be the first person to get off the phone, although it always comes with a little discomfort and some guilt. I pretend not to get a little weepy at the end of a week when I finish dogsitting. And this summer, I don’t know what happened, but it’s like I spent the first part of it being so okay with everything, laughing and making jokes out of my problems, that I’ve spent the past few weeks crumbling under their weight. When I left the girls last weekend, it felt a little bit like the world was ending. It feels like that every time I drive away from people I really like. Maybe underneath always being slightly cynical, I’m really this incredibly romantic child, feeling like the whole world is hanging on the ledge of some cliff, and I have the power to save it – like the things I do make a real big difference. Maybe it’s because there’s just been a lot of leaving in my life, like being left by my mother, and then having to leave the country I grew up in, and all of my friends, and my family. And then leaving the little foundation I built here to go to boarding school, and then to college. Now I’m leaving for Paris and I’m completely unprepared. Funny how we’re all made up of all these contradictions, like there’s this almost uncontrollable urge within me to move, to change scenery, yet I’m also so completely paralyzed by the fear of leaving people I love, cus it feels like I’ve slowly and lovingly built this basis of support, just to chuck it out the window as it begins to feel the least bit sturdy.

And practical things scare me. Like looking for a new laptop, or emailing course listings to my advisor, or packing, or exchanging money. I know I’m completely capable of doing these things, but am really afraid of having to deparalyze myself, and eventually leaving, and becoming someone I don’t recognize. Being afraid comes easy, because my bed is so comfortable, and Nerds always lets me cry on him. But I think I’m going to try to grow up a little.