Fear, such a small word yet it’s a huge feeling. Fear is something I am experiencing. I’m afraid to let my guard down only to be shot down again. I’m afraid to let this guy in whom I care about so much simply because I am afraid of being hurt again by someone I cared about so much. I’m afraid to talk to my own mother about my struggles because each scar tells a story that brings me to tears talking about it. What scares me most is the thought of being shot down again when I finally found it in myself to stand on my own two feet and attempt this funny thing everyone calls happiness. I’m scared to cross the line and let my guard down around people simply because I’m tired of being knocked on my ass. I’m scared that something or someone will come along and make everything terrible like it was, scared that someone will come along and knock me down once more. Afraid that someone will come and cause me to desire to cut myself once more during my moment of strength. Afraid that someone will come and put me down when I finally lifted my head up and saw the smallest glimpse of a brighter side. You know I should be used to being shot down but honestly every shot I take feels fresh and new each time. Every time I’m shot down I can’t handle anything, it’s all a foreign sight to a sore eye. A foreign feeling to a continuously shattered heart.