Monophobia

"Monophobia is the extreme or abnormal fear of being alone. Many people, as well as animals, are known to suffer from monophobia and it is not an easy fear to overcome. Monophobia is also known by other names such as Isolaphobia or Autophobia." —www.fearof.net

I fear to be alone.

I find myself alone a lot and I fear it.

It isn't the loneliness, the silence, the lack of company or conversation.

No, I fear to be alone because of who I am left alone with.

What comes after the silence.

The constant company that's always there.

The thing I fear most in this world above all and everything else. The thing seeing staring back at me with nonblinking eyes.

Never blinking. Only staring. Always.

You would be terrified, too. Maybe you already are.

Maybe you are, but you won't ever admit it to yourself simply because you know that the second you acknowledge that fear, as sure as you breathe, that the fear will never leave you.

You hear it now, don't you? Listen. I mean, really listen.

Turn off the TV, pull away from your screens, and just listen.

There.

You can hear that thing again, coming out of the corners of the room where the light doesn't reach.

Coming to whisper in your ear with scuttles and random cracklings around the room as it moves. No matter how hard you try, you'll never see it until the thing is right in front of you staring you down.

Eyes wide, never blinking. Only staring. Always.

It tells me horror stories. In the night, when I'm all alone, it'll come and show me things so horrible I feel them burn into the back of my eyes.

It tells me the lack of value my life has to it, and tells me how easy it would be for it to hurt others. To bring whole cities to the ground, if it really put its mind to it.

I must keep it busy, keep it from causing any damage. I'll take as many cuts and blows as I need to as long as it never ever affects others.

I'm so scared, although it's fine when I'm not alone—I can ignore it. I've heard stories of this dark thing and I've heard how other victims have fought it, but when I'm alone I'm so scared.

It's always been there, as far back as I can remember, and I feel like it's always going to be there hidden in the dark. Under my skin so deep that it'll never leave as it whispers.

Can you feel it? Feel its breath on the back of your neck as it pulls back its sharp teeth to grin?

Don't try and close your eyes. It'll just make it worse. So, so much worse.

I'm too far gone, so this is for anyone who's reading this—please, I beg you. Don't let yourself be alone with it. You'll know when it's there because you'll hear it scuttling all around you. It's always there, but it can only hurt you worse when you're alone. You can fight it, you can ignore it if you're strong enough.

Please, don't do what I did.

Never talk to it. Never indulge it. And whatever you do, don't look it in the eyes for more than a second.

If you look for any longer it will take you, and it will be slow and painful. It's been there your whole life, controlling you, stalking you, hunting you. You won't be able to see it, smell it, or touch it because—

WAIT. I hear it. It's here...

I'm so sorry. I wish I had time to tell you everything, but I think it's come for me. I hear it whispering. It's drawing me in, and I can't fight it.

I'm alone. I have no chance alone.

That thing is coming for me and I'm alone, I have no one.

No one to speak to.

No one to stop it from running—After all...“My imaginationfunctions much better when I don't have to speak to people.” —Patricia Highsmith