I’ve never completely enjoyed the company of others. I love to hang out around friends and family, but if I’m forced to speak, I suddenly find my mind in a blank state, frantically searching for the right words to say. I can’t just blurt out something without feeling the panic settle in around me after I’ve said it.
I find it difficult to communicate with people, especially since I’m always so self-conscious, and worried that others are judging me. It’s true, that sort of thing is silly, but no matter how hard I try, I can’t break the paranoia. I agonize over what could be in my friends’ minds after I speak, and I work myself up over all the times when I kill the conversation (trust me, I never know the right thing to say). I transfer my thoughts into writing, where I don’t have to meet face-to-face with someone else, and hide my anxiety beneath a cheerful facade.
I don’t have to show people how nervous I am when I write. The graphite and ink say it all for me. After they read my work, some people say that I should be lawyer, but how could I? Arguments aren’t my strong suit, I’d beat myself up over each and every case I lost, and being around confident people rather scares me. Maybe it’s because they show me what I could never be.