I am terrified of death. Being alive is scary, but knowing I could die at any point is scarier. Every time I step in a car, the thought of dying from a car crash is prominent. Walking home from the bus stop, I wonder if someone will lure me into their van to hurt me. I don’t want anything bad to ever happen to me. I want to be safe, but in our world today, that is nearly impossible.

I want to live in a bubble.

The bubble would keep me out of harm’s way; I never want to meet with harm. I often make self-deprecating jokes about wanting death, but in reality, I want the opposite. I will never know when I’m going to die. I could lose the life I am living on the bus ride back home, or in a hospital bed when I am 95. It’s terrifying. I’m scared.

I don’t like living life in a paranoid state, and really, is that even living? I’m young– I should be experiencing the wonderful opportunities life offers, but I don’t think like that. I view the glass half-empty and am constantly scared something bad is going to happen to me. For the longest time, I didn’t go to the bathroom at school because I was scared a shooter would invade while I was alone in a stall. I don’t live life, I’m scared of it.

I want to live in a bubble.

The bubble would protect me; I want to be protected. I crave safety and comfort. I want the guarantee that I will live a long, healthy life without any harm. But, I know that it’s impossible, and my brain likes to overthink everything. I blame the paranoia on sketchy encounters, but that has actually made me more aware of my surroundings. If I see creepy people outside of a gas station, I am on high alert, glued to my mother’s hip. If I’m walking to the bus stop on a dark, early morning, I jump at every revving engine and bustling bush with 9-1-1 punched into my phone just in case.

I know I need to stop thinking this way. I know I need to relax, take a breather, and tell my brain to calm down. I don’t like being anxious about every little thing. I despise the constant train of paranoid thoughts. But, I’ve realized that it is who I am. This anxiety is a part of me; something I can’t change no matter how much help I get. Life will always scare me. I will always be thinking about how and when I will die; my brain is wired that way. I want to be content with my life– to just live. But, I can’t. I want my brain to stop producing thoughts for just five seconds– five seconds of pure tranquility. But, it can’t.

There are so many things I can’t do, so many opportunities for life to scare me, and a lot of chances for me to not take due to my anxiety. I haven’t learned how to live life without fear, but I hope I do soon because it seems a lot less debilitating. But for now, I want to remain untouched from all of life’s curveballs and surprises.

I want to live in a bubble.