In creative non-fiction you write what you know. You can't make it up as you go along or pretend something really happened. Or pretend something didn't. It's like pouring out your heart and soul into this paper on a screen that's going to be up for scrutiny and ridicule. But they want to be entertained too. It's not enough for it to be real and honest, it has to "catch the reader's attention" and "make them want to keep reading." So not only can they tell you that your writing is shit, but that your life is shit and it doesn't speak to them.
So how do I speak to you?

Ever since I broke my leg I've developed a fear. Of everything.
I'm afraid of heights. I'm afraid of injury. Summertime brings out my fear of bugs, and love brings out my fear of heartbreak. And the fear eats away inside until it kills the aspirations and dreams I have of one day succeeding in anything.
I succumb to the fear. And I don't know why.

But I want to live fearlessly.

When do I reach the age where it's more than sex?
Where people will want to be around me and talk to me and date me without the ultimate goal of something as superficial as just sex? I'm craving something more.
I'm craving someone who cares.

It's depressing to think that I could be this alone for the rest of my life.

When did I hit the age that happiness was determined by the amount of numbers we got at bars or the amount of sex we were having? That guys suddenly think that an exchange of phone numbers and an invitation to "hang out" meant that within 4 hours of my arrival my clothes would be strewn across their floor and my naked body occupied in their bed?
It's now become okay to skip going on dates, holding conversations, and getting to know a person, and instead go right to the bedroom. And I can't take it.
I refuse to be another girl who gives into what anybody wants. My self-worth cannot be contained to one night of sex with some guy I hardly know.
And yet, respecting myself makes me almost unrespected by men. They don't understand it. They don't see that I'm not a prude, or waiting for marriage, or completely celibate. I'm just waiting for someone who will see that I am more than just a body, and I'm worth being treated as more than that.

It's difficult, learning to be alone. One day you're walking arm in arm and everything seems in place, and the next day you're learning to walk alone. It makes me miss the feeling of being wanted. Of having someone in my life who made me feel like they had their hand extended toward me, waiting for me to link my arm in theirs.
But I suppose I'm not alone or unwanted. I still have friends, the best of friends, who would fight for me friendship and be by my side when the times are tough. And yet, as wanted and surrounded as I may seem, there is still a sense of loneliness. A missing piece.
So maybe it's not that we find it difficult to learn to be alone, because we're never really alone. Maybe the difficult part is accepting the change and absence of what we're used to.

I love to watch movies of places I want to go, things I want to do, meeting the type of people I want to know.

It reminds me how young I am and how many opportunities I still have. My future is completely my own, and I cannot express the excitement I have to one day explore my options.

I never get so angry that I have nothing to say. I always have something to say. And it's usually snarky, and sarcastic, and defensive. But it's words. There are always words. 

And yet I am so angry that the words aren't coming to my head or out of my mouth so I'm just gawking. And rambling. And the words aren't coming. No real words with real meaning. Just displaced, repetitive, completely unnecessary rambling.

And that's all I have to say really. 

When did it stop being "cool" to be a good person? Nowadays people get more praise for making a nasty, rude, and degrading comment than they do for giving a compliment and carrying out a generous deed.

What happened to people treating others decently, not for their own benefit, but because it's a human right to be treated decent? Good deeds rarely go unnoticed in this era because people are more interested in advertising their actions on Twitter or Instagram than actually doing something charitable or kind.

How did we as a human race become so selfish? When will a day come when we do something thoughtful just for the sake of fellow man? Will a day ever come when we stop the monotonous slandering and realize efforts spent on hatred are cowardice and pathetic?

Why do we insist on fretting over the things we can't change? Worrying about the things that have already happened? Regretting the things that are left in our past?
Rather than focusing on our future, it's like we're programmed to worry about our past.We end up spending so much time, reliving our past and waiting for the future when we can move on, that we forget to live in a way that will allow us to grow and prosper as individuals. Every day, every minute, every second we spend stuck in the past is an opportunity we are missing out on for the future.
So stop it. Stop thinking about what you would have done and questioning the way things could have panned out if you had done such and such different. And most importantly, stop blaming yourself for any mishaps that might have occurred. If you put in half the amount of effort to make the best out of each day as you do looking back on the "what ifs," you might find yourself at a better place now that you had ever been before.