When I am alone and in tall grass I am afraid of stepping on a snake. No one is around to help me and there is no way out of the grass except through it. The fear can paralyze me. I cannot take another step forward or back and I just stand still in the middle of the grass. The sensation is horrible. Suddenly snakes are everywhere, waiting to strike on my next step. Eventually I accept that the only way out of the grass and the fear is to start walking. Timid at first, I quicken my pace, eager for the safety of the path. I think that recovery is a sort of tall, snake-filled grass for me. I stand here in the midst afraid. I cannot find the path so I creep around the field in a terrifying panic. The field goes as far as I can see. But somewhere in the distance I can hear people calling to me. I strain to hear them better so I can make out the direction. I start moving toward them, but with each step my heart pounds louder and eventually my fear drowns out their voices. So I stand still again, gripped by panic and trying to calm down so I can hear my friends and once again start making my way toward safety and companionship. What am I so afraid of?

I am afraid that I call this abuse just to excuse what I do now.
I am afraid that I call this abuse so it seems less like I just wanted some nasty sex.
I am afraid that I tell people I was abused just so they will pity me.
I am afraid that I tell people I was abused just so they will forgive me.
I am afraid of telling anyone what really happened to me.
I am afraid of telling anyone what I do now.
I am afraid that people might be disgusted if they knew my real emotions.
I am afraid of what people would think if they knew my real thoughts.
I am afraid that everyone can tell how fucked up I really am.
I am afraid that I was a willing participant. I liked the way it felt.
I am afraid that I am a pervert because I fantasize about it now.
I am afraid I will never stop masturbating.
I am afraid that secretly I loved being abused.
I am afraid because I knew better and yet I did not do anything to stop what was happening.
I am afraid that I am worthless trash that is only good for more abuse.
I am afraid that all of this makes me a disgusting little faggot.
I am afraid that I will never be able to manage the horror of my life.
I am afraid that I can never be as good as other, un-abused people.
I am afraid that I could never satisfy a woman.
I am afraid that I will never find someone to love.
I am afraid of the possibility that I may be unlovable.
I am afraid that my abusers cared for me and this is just another example of how I reject love.
I am afraid that I cannot have the sort of relationship like the ones I think I see all around me.
I am afraid that my love is nothing more than an expression of loneliness.
I am afraid that I will fuck up the most important relationships in my life.
I am afraid that I might try to include my abuser in my life so I do not feel the pain of isolation.
I am afraid that I am too self absorbed to be a real friend.
I am afraid of trying to survive on my own.
I am afraid that no one really wants to have sex with me.
I am afraid that people feel filthy after they have sex with me.
I am afraid that I will never enjoy sex the way a healthy couple can.
I am afraid that my feelings are just camouflage for something awful.
I am afraid that all of my tears are contrived.
I am afraid that the way I feel now will always be the way I feel.
I am afraid that I might be the only one that ever knows the truth about me.
I am afraid all I can feel is pain. I prefer to feel nothing if all I can feel is pain.
I am afraid because it does not seem to matter whether it was my fault.
I am afraid of how much it will hurt to fail at my effort of recovery.
I am afraid that recovery might not be real.
I am afraid that I might never stop sabotaging myself.
I am afraid that the damage might be irreversible.
I am afraid that I may have ruined myself to the very core.
I am afraid because I believe these things so much of the time.
I am afraid because these things seem so real when I am lonely.

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"Don't waste your time on jealousy. Sometimes you're ahead, sometimes you're behind. The race is long and, in the end, it's only with yourself." -Mary Schmich