Basophobia, the fear of falling, yet here I am falling deeper and deeper into him. 

It all started in the fall of 1999, when we were young and reckless, going through life without a care in the world. Looking back on it now it seemed stupid the way we reacted, the way we broke apart, the way we moved on or at least tried to but that was all in the past, moments I tried to erase. They still come to me, time and time again, the memories of him.

The first time I saw him was in highschool, senior year, our last year of freedom as people said but for us it was the time of love. He wore a leather jacket like those rebel kids in the movies, only he wasn’t a rebel or anything like that. He was one of the sweetest guys I knew, at least he would be if that incident didn’t happen. 

“You know, it wouldn’t hurt to go talk to him!” my best friend at the time whispered to me. Every inch of her five foot being is filled with kindness and beauty. 

“I don’t know, I don’t think he would like to talk to me. He seems like the type of person to ignore people he doesn’t know.” My cheeks slightly flushed at the thought of holding a conversation with him. 

“You never know until you try!” She gave me a small shove, almost making me topple over. 

I walked over about halfway until I turned around and walked back to her. I hadn’t even thought about what I was going to say or do. There was no point in talking to him if I was going to fumble over words that made no sense whatsoever. 

When she saw me she just sighed, a small indication that she was disappointed but wasn’t shocked. 

If I wasn’t such a wimp, oh the things I could do. 

The second time I saw him was in the literature classroom. Strangers, yet everything about him was beautiful. It was a strange feeling like this for a boy, a boy I barely knew but the butterflies in my stomach didn’t go away. 

Somehow magically we got partnered for a project. Maybe it was my dream coming true or maybe it was just luck, whatever the reason I was happy. I hoped and hoped that one day we can become friends and maybe even more. My cheeks flushed at the thought, but we were just partners, just partners and that’s as far I thought it would go.

“Have you ever been in love?” he asked me with that charming smile of his. 

“No, have you?”

He just smiled at me, “I think so,” he looked towards the bright blue sky, “I think so.”

A soft pain in my chest grew but I smiled. Even though I was feeling , I was happy for him and I hoped that person fell in love with him in return. 

Months later he told me three words that changed both of our lives. “I love you,” and how could I not fall in love with him too.

“You're reading that book again even though it makes you cry every time. I have a feeling you love anguish” He told me.

I shook my head, “I don’t love anguish, I don’t think anyone does, it’s sad and most of the time the characters don’t deserve that happening to them but it gives you this raw emotion that you can’t find anywhere else and that’s what I love.”

“Not more than you love me, right?”

“Not more than I love you,” I agreed.

“You know one day I think I’ll marry you.” He told me with a smile on his face.

“Yeah?” I asked him if our hands intertwined as we walked through the park. 

“Yeah, you’re beautiful, both inside and out.”

“You’re not too bad yourself, you know?” I teased. 

“Of course I’m not, I got you, didn’t I?”

“Yeah, you got me and I got you.”

“We’ve got each other and I wouldn’t have it any other way.” 

We spent the next few months blissfully in love, the honeymoon stage you could say was far from over. Then the second semester rolled around and it was like nothing changed, only it did, two months later I was waiting for him to come pick me up, we had planned to go out on a date and he offered to pick me up. I waited and waited but he didn’t show. My first thought was that something came up and he didn’t have time to inform me since last month his sister had a bad panic attack and had to go to the hospital. I quickly sent him a message that I was going to go home and that I would call him later since the call wasn’t going through. 

Later that day, two police officers showed up at our doorstep. Fear rushed through my body, Did I do something wrong? I couldn’t remember anything, was it my mom or dad? I shook my head, they wouldn’t do anything like that so I invited them inside and told them that my parents were out buying groceries and that it would be a while before they returned. 

“That’s okay we’re not here for them, we’re actually here for you.” 

His face grew sad, like he was experiencing a bad memory and then he told me that he died. A drunk driver had driven right into his car, he had died on impact, there was nothing that the doctors could do. I don’t remember anything after that, all that was left was the feeling of absolute darkness.

Monophobia, the fear of being alone and here I am, lonelier than I’ve ever been.