I’m afraid of being alone when I’m older

I’m afraid of thinking that I’m right,
 but then someone proves me wrong.
 Then, in their eyes, I am nothing but a person
 who didn’t know the right answer.
 I’m afraid of people judging me
 for my appearance and not for my personality
 and my heart.
 I’m afraid of being alone when I’m older,
 and all of my friends leaving me.
 I’m afraid of not being able to get out of bed in the morning.
 I’m afraid of taking my eyes
 off of my best friend, for fear that I’ll lose her.
 I’m afraid of procrastinating, even though I approach him
 every day.
 I’m afraid of what I look like to other people.
 What do they whisper to each other behind cupped hands
 as I walk by.
 What if everyone is lying to me?
 What if I am as small as everyone says I am?
 What if I am just an insignificant dot in a universe that is just as small?
 And what is even the purpose of humans if we’re all just going to die anyway?
 I’m afraid of the world ending and my being left alone.
 I’m afraid of trying to make everyone happy, but forgetting
 about myself too.
 I’m afraid of being too selfless and I’m afraid that kindness
 doesn’t get you as far as you’re told.
 I’m afraid of the sentence, “Everything is going to be all right.”
 Because what if it’s not?
 I’m afraid of the face in the mirror
 that seems to ask, “Are you afraid of being afraid?”
 And I nod my head and run my fingers through my hair.
 Yes, I’m afraid.
 But that doesn’t mean I have to be afraid of you.