Painfully Shy

in my year of social exile, i've become shy, closed off, insane (moreso than normal). i'm not trying to be mysterious, this is just the enigma of me. i'm a goddess in text, my achilles heel is real life situations. witty, agile, sweetly sarcastic as long as you aren't looking at me waiting for the words to come. asking me "what?" when you didn't understand the jumbled phrases from my lips. It's like a stutter, where it sounds fine in my head but it comes out mumble, mumble... oh god, i've turned into Dr. Horrible.



I can't seem to connect from brain to mouth without a detour through my hands. I need to put pencil to paper or have fingers swiftly flying over keys to get it out before the thought disappears at tongue and teeth. I close a part of myself off when put in sober social situations. hunched shoulders, hands clasped tightly in lap, legs crossed at ankles, prim and proper. i'll look anywhere but at you, sneaking glances when you're looking away. feeling like an idiot cause i can't force myself to be me, can't say what i want to say and no words seem enough. its like a self-fulfilling prophecy, i know i can't be witty in person so i'm not witty in person. i save it up and write it all down later, but that only makes me seem uninterested in the conversation or unable to form a basic thought besides "haha" and "yeah, i get that". i come across as a boring bitch or vapid airhead.

i could listen to you talk for hours, storing and saving up everything i want to write down when i get home safe where you can't see me. it pours out of me then, uselessly in notebooks and text files that you'll never see because the conversation's dead and gone. i guess its safer that way, lets me still hold a part back that isn't naked for you to see. or for anyone to see. it isn't really about what you think- hate me, love me, think i'm insane; it doesn't matter or have any effect on the mental roadblock. hate you, love you, think you're absolutely crazy (but i like it); and my reaction is still the same until i build up a nervous tolerance. people make me nervous. people i like make me more nervous because i know my being unable to carry on any sort of balanced conversation will only make them lose interest. i'm not an interesting person when you're looking at me so intensely. i sit quietly, hands folded in lap, tracing the tips of my fingernails with my thumbs until i feel at ease enough to whisper a contribution to the latest topic. a thousand retorts, funny and insightful, might flow through my head for every sentence spoken - but none of it would come out; i can't force my lips to part. and if i managed that small miracle, i can't force the air to form the words so i'm left like a guppy gasping on the kitchen table. i'll usually just stop trying and focus on my hands in my lap, looking up to sneak a glance at you speaking every few seconds to at least show i'm interested. i'm always interested.

so maybe i should just stick to text messaging and internet chat. get my social fix via cold hard words on a computer screen where i can't read your emotions and you can't stare while i'm thinking completely random stuff to say. but we all know that isn't enough for anyone - humans are social animals. fall outside the herd and get culled. survival of the fittest in our modern urban savanna.

i guess i'll try to adapt, force some words out no matter how draining it is to participate until i get comfortable enough for it to not matter. i can't spend forever so painfully shy until my life passes me by. a life half lived isn't a life at all... and a girl's gotta do what a girl's gotta do...