I am scared.
I’m lying in bed, listening to the sounds of my girlfriend breathing next to me and the distant barking of what sounds like all the town dogs.
The fantastic double glazed sliding doors show me the moonlit outside but just enough detail to make me wonder what the shapes are.
I got up 5 minutes ago to check all the doors – the unfamiliar creaks of the house makes me listen to every sound.
It’s a relatively new feeling, this fear. And I only just realised it. I utter the words “I’m not scared of much” quite often but right now I’m scared. I don’t want to write down all the things my imagination has flipped through my built-in view master but I’m mostly a bit scared of every out there that I can’t see and I can’t decide if i should close my eyes or put on my glasses.
But the amazing realisation has been that I wasn’t scared for so many years because I didn’t care about what could happen. Yes, I used medication for depression but I was never scared of dying or of what could happen to me. Life was mostly about just putting on foot in front of the other. And I wasn’t scared.
But right now I’m scared because I have someone I love who is at her most vulnerable, asleep next to me. I’m scared because I’m excited about my life and I want to get to live it. So while I lay here watching for movement in the grey dark, I have a tiny smile on my face. I’m happy I get to be scared again.