I am so scared of feeling important. I worry when people tell me how important I am to them. There is fear in everything I think about and do. There is fear in the love I give out to everyone I love. And there is fear in hearing people tell me they love me.
I’m a very straightforward person and I like (and am used to) telling people that I love them. I always have the urge to let them know how I feel, because I’m afraid that one day, I’ll be gone without having said what I needed to.
But being important just gives me the chills. Because it gives me the connotation that I am needed; that I am loved; that I make your life easier, happier, more fun – and all that shit. I rest upon the thought that I am alive for you, and because of you. I take privilege in knowing that my existence is something you do not crave all the time, but appreciate when present.
To be important is to cling on to the word as though it possesses all my being. My soul is happy because you make me feel important. It is not frightening to be loved – it is heavenly.
But to be loved also gives the idea that once I am no longer important, I will be left alone – to go back to how life was without you. It may be “okay” – but incomplete. And full of insecurities. Of longing. Of attempts to reach out to what I finally learned to love.
Thank you for making me feel important.
And I’m sorry. I’m sorry that even with the happiest thoughts, I have my doubts and my anxieties; that even in my happiest days, there is fear and pain; that even in the most wonderful memories of and with you, I feel afraid.
I try not to.
And I will try not to. Because this part of the story is one of the happiest that life has ever written.