Blind, Irrational, Real, Fear

It amazes me how much of my life is ruled by fear. I usually like to think of myself as fairly brave, well, at least not a coward, and I think that is true in most cases, but when it comes to people, specifically my friends, all my bravery leaves me, I feel like a little girl facing a monster. I fear what they think about me, what they will think of me if I do a certain thing, or don't do a certain thing. It seems as so long as they are around, I am orchestrating my life so as to make them think highly of me, or at least so that they won't think less of me, all the while not letting them know I am doing so of course. In so doing, I not only hide that but also many other things. It seems as if I have become a master of hiding my feelings, and not only my feelings, but my thoughts. I can look a best friend in the eye and say that there is nothing wrong, even when I've been on the brink of tears for weeks. I can stand there and smile and laugh even when there is nothing I would rather do than hide from everyone I know. I can listen to a friend talk about himself for hours and never mention a thing about myself, even when I am near bursting with the desire to talk about myself.

Why do I hide so much? Fear of course, but that isn't all of it. I don't like talking about myself.....well, that isn't entirely ture. I want to talk about myself, I long to talk about myself, but I don't. Partly because I view what I usually have to say as unimportant, and don't wish to bother anyone with the boring details of my life. But also, I hate the way I talk. Whenever I talk about myself, it always comes out jumbled, taking too long to tell so little information. I fail to make a point clear, or fail to have a point at all. I include too much detail or not enough detail. I ramble on about things which, experience has shown, no one cares about, or no one understands, not because they aren't smart enough, but because I am unable to explain it well. All in all, it turns out to be a waste of the listener's time and effort in trying to grasp what it is I am trying to say. I have tried to learn from my past mistakes, so now I simply try not to talk about myself or my thoughts at all, preferring the painful silence. Doing so of course presents its own problems, mainly the denial of my desire to talk about myself, about what I am thinking, what I am going through, a desire shared by most, if not all, people. When I do simply not talk, the longing to do so seems to build up more and more, until it feels like I'm about to burst. At times I do burst, but I usually end up regretting it, strengthening my resolve to stay silent in the future. Writing does allow for some release, although it isn't fully satisfying, it's like eating salad when what you really want is steak and potatoes.

If I ever mentioned this fear, this resolve, most people would probably say it is irrational, that I should be able to talk to my friends without worrying about how I sound, how ineloquent I may be, and they are probably right. But knowing this doesn't make me any less afraid. Aren't most fears irrational to begin with? Does knowing that it is irrational make it any less frightening? Any less paralyzing? I wish the answer was yes.