This phobia.

I'm Eremophobic.

It's not something I love, it's not something I choose, and it's not something I say just to seem "emotionally disturbed."

(Why the fuck would I be proud of that?)

Sometimes, I can't sleep. I think about it all, about all that lead to this phobia.

They don't get why I can't do something so simple, like walking alone. I never understood why I feared my own escape world; there were no others there with me.

I enjoyed sharp objects, because at least I didn't cry alone; they made me cry.

I hate this fucking hellhole, because I need more people.

Small clues, lead up to making me.