what scares me

When I was twelve I asked my mother if

I could go bungee jumping. She said

NO. But she let me go paragliding.

I took the chance.

 

I loved roller coasters.

 

I loved going up and down and feeling

scared.

 

Now I am

scared to be

scared. It

scares me that I am

scared to be

scared. Isn’t that

scary?

 

Paragliding wasn’t

scary. You run full speed off of a cliff but that’s it for

scary. After that, you just glide.

 

I didn’t want to glide. I wanted to do something

terrifying, amazing, and exhilarating.

I wanted an adventure that some part of me knew I would be too

scared to pursue when I was older.

 

I am an adult now. I can go bungee jumping. I might be too

scared to go bungee jumping. Last year, for the first time I was

scared and did not go on a ride in an amusement park.

 

Isn’t this

scary? This might be more

scary than bungee jumping.

 

This poem is about: 
Me
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