“It’s not my fault, I swear,”
Ever been mad at God for the way He molded you – not just the looks but the whole personality package? Like, is there some stuff about yourself that bugs you so much you’d throw a fit at the Almighty, just like a kid mad at their folks?
Living in this world, you’re kinda expected to be all confident and social, strike up convos, and make pals. But what if you just can’t? What if doing all those things feels like you’re squirming in your own skin, wanting to vanish? I try to mingle, swear I do, but it’s crazy hard when you think everyone’s eyeballing you, waiting for that slip-up to happen so they can hit you with their words and wicked laughs.
My social anxiety? Picture a heavy blanket smothering a bright lamp – that lamp being me, with loads to say but every time I try, it’s like a hand on my throat and shivers down my spine. How can chatting up folks feel so darn scary? It’s like being trapped under a suffocating blanket, too weak to peel it off.
After putting on a brave face, I end up in the school bathroom just to let out all the shame and regret. I used to blame the big guy upstairs for this, thinking maybe He made me this way on purpose. Not my fault I’m not a social butterfly. Swear, I tried, but there’s this shadowy thing that keeps me feeling like a total stranger in my own world.
In the end I didn’t cry because I was overwhelmed by anxiety, or because of the humility I felt, I cried because I failed. I realized that maybe, I might just not be able to make it out of this battle.
