You know, this is a weird one for me. I can't say that I scare that easily. But here goes nothing - the last time I really remember being afraid was, oddly enough, my last breakup.
The end of us was near, and we both knew it. The two of us had been fighting for weeks. Most of the time, over nothing, but I was just sick of him and I'm sure he of me. These fights weren't just pithy, small, get-over-it-in-two-seconds fights. They were explosive, horrible fights where we just screamed at each other for no reason, and he even punched a hole in the wall of our apartment. It was going to end, and it would be a car crash, and I knew it. So, in an act of self-appreciation, I threw him out, instead of leaving myself. I was just so shaken, so emotionally over it all, that all I wanted to do was go to sleep.
Know what the worst part was? I couldn't. I had myself so convinced that he would break into the apartment while I was sleeping (for what reason I don't know). For weeks, I felt like a crazy person as I listened to each and every sound in my apartment - and honestly, at one point, the refrigerator's ice maker scared the shit out of me to the point that I thought someone was in my apartment. It was ridiculous.
I honestly can't remember being so scared of anything before, or since. Unless you count the first time I ever knocked the wind out of myself falling off of a set of monkey bars when I was nine.
Even though the story isn't the best, and not really something I wanted to revisit - it's true, and honest, and all I try to be.
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