I AM AFRAID

Last year, somewhere between the salty breeze of the coast and the chatter of my classmates, a friend looked at me and said, almost jokingly,

"Bett, mbona unaogopanga vitu mingi?”

I laughed, but the words clung to me.

Not because they were harsh, but because they were true.

And it startled me how someone could see a part of me I’d spent years hiding, even from myself.

We were on a class trip, everyone floating freely on the water, carefree and light.

I stood there stiff, clutching a floater as if it was the only thing keeping me from disappearing. Figuratively speaking it was the only thing keeping me afloat.

The ocean wasn’t the problem.

The waves weren’t the enemy.

It was fear.

Fear that wrapped itself around me so quietly that it felt normal.

That day, I realized just how many corners of my life fear had occupied.

How many moments it had stolen.

How many times it had whispered louder than my own faith.

So here’s to the things I’ve let fear overshadow:

I am afraid of being poor. What if I never get to board a plane? What if I never get to afford the things that make life comfortable? Something about poverty is, it robs you of your life, it robs you of happiness, it is a thief of every little thing including humanity. You watch years pass by and everything seems like something you can never experience. At least not in this lifetime.

I am afraid of water. Maji imepita beseni jamani si heri ikae. Learning how to swim as an adult is a suicidal mission fr. So yes I am afraid of water! Mkiacha watu hawajui kuswim 2025 ni sawa Tu I'm comfortable 😭.

I am afraid of never finding love that I deserve. The kind of love that is patient,kind and willing to always show up. The kind of love that isn't just for convenience but one that chooses you and chooses to stay. I have searched for this love in books, forests, bushes and even waited for it to knock on my door. So yes, I fear that maybe this love won't find it's way to me.

I am afraid of writing names in my journal.

There’s something about putting a name on paper that feels like giving someone a key to my inner world, like granting them access they never asked for but somehow now have.

Sometimes I worry that my journaling looks shallow because I avoid names, as if I’m hiding behind vague pronouns and half-described memories.

But the truth is, I fear that one day a curious pair of eyes will flip through those pages, find a name, and suddenly stitch my most fragile truths to a real face.

And that thought terrifies me.

I am afraid that one day I might just walk away from everything and everyone I’ve ever known.

I imagine myself starting over somewhere far, slipping into a new life without warning, without remorse, without a backward glance.

And it scares me, because I know that version of me wouldn’t be the sweet, familiar girl everyone recognizes.

She would be distant, guarded, choosing silence over conversation, solitude over company all in the name of peace, or the desperate search for a self she’s afraid she’s losing

I am afraid of disappointing people.

Being a firstborn places you on a pedestal you never asked for; everyone looking up, everyone expecting, everyone assuming you’ll know the way.

Being academically gifted only raises that bar higher, to a place where the air feels thin.

And while I’ve disappointed myself more times than I can count, disappointing others feels heavier.

So I stretch myself, I push, I take a shaky leap of faith just to do things “right,” or at least close enough to keep the illusion intact.

I am afraid of being truly seen for what I am and for everything I am not.

There is a tenderness in being perceived, a nakedness I’m not always ready for but apparently writes it on here.

So I hide behind strength,behind 'Bett will sort you out', behind humour, behind being “okay,” hoping no one notices the trembling parts.

I am afraid of settling.

What if I never find the things my heart deeply longs for?

What if I end up choosing what’s available instead of what’s aligned?

The thought of shrinking my life to fit circumstances terrifies me.

I am afraid of never becoming a reknown author. My life slipping away as an unknown one and probably unappreciated. Not that I write to seek likes but there's a certain feeling that comes with being read.

And I am afraid of death.

Not just death itself, but the way it arrives; uninvited, unapologetic.

It takes people without warning, without negotiation.

I fear the slow kind, the painful kind, the kind that steals life breath by breath.

I fear being robbed of my days before I get the chance to fully live them. I am afraid of living long enough to see people I care about perish.

I am afraid of sex, for obvious reasons.

I am afraid of letting y'all read this piece and judge me so please,judge me not.

My heavenly father is probably seeing this and silently says "worry not child". Lord I am afraid

*************

Hello lovely readers

Here's something

I hope it's a bit relatable

Leave a like, share and comment

Your feedback is invaluable!

Love and light

Incase of anything you can reach out via email bettcaro92@gmail.com