The Girl Who Was Afraid of Everything

When I was young, I was always afraid.

Afraid of the bad days.

Afraid of my parents fighting.

Afraid my father would come home in a bad mood.

Afraid of being caught skipping school,

Punished for not getting good grades,

Or being too uncool for my classmates to like me.

I was afraid of my body being criticized,

Afraid of not having enough money for school,

Afraid of my mother’s youngest brother

Of his fists, his rages,

The knife he threw more than once.

Afraid that one day, it would stick.

And we would bleed.

I was afraid my mother would leave me behind.

Afraid she didn’t love me.

Afraid the night two criminals broke in

When she locked herself and my sisters in the bathroom,

Leaving me outside, alone.

I was afraid of being abused again.

Of the silence.

Of the darkness that once made death feel like an option.

I was afraid to speak up.

Afraid to open up to my family

Because what if they never understood?

I was afraid of the ace of spades in a deck of cards

Convinced it meant bad luck.

Sometimes, I still am.

I was ashamed of how I looked.

Ashamed of my cheap pink rubber shoes.

Afraid to stand out,

Because bad things always seemed to follow me.

I was afraid I couldn’t protect my sisters.

Afraid there wouldn’t be food to eat.

Afraid to admit I lost my bike—

So I lied.

And then feared my lie would be found out.

I was afraid my best friend would stop talking to me

After I asked her to return the money she owed.

Afraid my life would never get better.

Afraid to ask for a raise.

Afraid to have lunch with my boss—

So much that I once crawled under a table to hide from her.

Afraid to say no.

Afraid of rejection.

I was this girl who was afraid of everything.

And I still carry fear.

Because I am human.

But I no longer run from it.

Now, I walk beside it—with courage.

Courage that didn’t come all at once,

But grew with every heartbreak, every challenge, every truth I dared to tell.

Life didn’t make me fearless.

It made me brave.