My tire hit the curb. Embarrassed, I tried to back out and fix my mistake, but I just ended up adding to my embarrassment by making an even bigger scene in trying to back over the curb again.
I was thankful that it appeared as though no one else saw my blunder. I hated the feeling of embarrassment, especially in public.
I’m so easily embarrassed. People often remark about how easily my cheeks take on the reddish tint of embarrassed warmth at the slightest suggestion of anything provocative or private.
Whoever still thinks that shyness or introversion is something I can control is sorely mistaken and deserves a swift kick in the rear.
Or at least a subtle suggestion that their opinion is a crock of horse shit.
It seems as though more people than ever relate to the torture of living with social anxiety, but somehow the idea of not being alone with my anxiety isn’t terribly reassuring.
It makes me anxious to think about the fact that other people are anxious.
I wouldn’t want anyone to have to deal with that kind of stress.
Am I supposed to be grateful that I’m not the only one who suffers?
Hell, man, I wish none of us had to suffer. I want to alleviate pain, not spread it around.
I’ve started smoking more weed lately. I don’t know if it actually helps, or if I’ve just convinced myself it helps.
You aren’t using it correctly. It’s a phillips not a flathead. and no amount of shoving is going to suddenly make the wrong screwdriver work here. Not ever. It’s just like life, you know. If something is simply the wrong instrument for the job, it’s never going to work quite right. Don’t have expectations that extend beyond the initial task assigned.
I’m not sure which I hate more, the reality of my body or simply the reflection of it in the bathroom mirror. And it isn’t so much a hatred as a misunderstanding. It’s taken me most of my life to come to terms with my body as it is. That it’s malleable, yes, but for the most part, this is the vessel with which I must live my life. The mirror lies. The mirror tells me I’m not good enough. But this is an opinion I would never make without the ability to compare my vessel to others. And this is something I could never do with out staring, vacantly into my bathroom mirror. It’s as if I’m looking for flaws that don’t really exist. I’m only picking out minor details because it seems as though I’m not allowed to love myself. There’s an odd stigma attached to finding something about your body that you dislike. That there must be some aspect of themselves that everyone dislikes. However, there must be an aspect of themselves that everyone loves as well. I’ve been too cerebral about this. My body is more than the reflection in the mirror. My skin is as soft as it is strong. I take it for granted how much work my skin does holding in my organs and veins. I take for granted how good it feels to be touched by someone I love. And how that touch awakens new
Floating effortlessly, but not freely. Suspended on the surface. It’s funny how this plant wouldn’t be nearly as lovely outside of the water. But in water it serves a purpose. Not only beautiful, but as a resting place for frogs and the like.
The sound of metal against metal was more jarring than I ever imagined it would be. It shook me to the core and lingered long after the initial impact. I suddenly found myself unable to make decisions. I didn’t feel injured, but I didn’t feel anything. I lay unmoving. Not because I couldn’t move, but I didn’t want to. I couldn’t think. Well, I could think just fine, but I didn’t want to. I watched the scene unfold before me as if I were an outside observer, not an active participant. I saw my own face, white with shock, immobile but unblemished. I saw my sudden dive into hysterics as a kind bystander asked if I was ok. I saw myself try to talk, but I scarcely remember anything I was trying to convey. I was too shocked to even help myself. I remember thinking “I’m glad someone stopped to help that girl” before realizing that I WAS that girl. But I had already left my body behind with all my emotions. How did this even happen? I was always so careful. But careful seems like a silly idea now. I knew it had nothing to do with me and it was simply a careless accident, no one was at fault. The driver of the other vehicle was alert enough to participate in the conversation now. I watched him try to get a meaningful answer
The sky beckons me upward and I leave the earth behind. My ability to give a shit about anything worrisome fades away exponentially as the distance between my body and the ground quickly grows. The houses look like small, square dots on a map I could care less about deciphering. I can’t even distinguish the people from the trees. This moment leaves me in complete bliss. Never before have I felt such a boundless freedom. I’m no longer tethered to solid ground as the sky opens up an entirely new world of possibility. I would have thought that by now the fear of falling would have overtaken me entirely. Instead, a sense of euphoria overwhelms me and I laugh in the face of all of the previous moments in my life laden with fear. Fear seems so insignificant now. As the entire lay of the land stretches beneath me, I feel invincible. I might not know my future, but somehow this aerial perspective makes me feel omniscient and I know that everything will be ok. I never want to land. My euphoria lessens slightly at the thought of eventually returning to earth. I shake the thought from my mind and continue my ascent. It’s funny how the clouds have changed in this new perspective. From the ground, I always imagined holding them in my hands, a solid fluffy, arguably unattainable mass. And now I glide through them effortlessly, laughing at the notion of once having considered them tangible. I remember lying in the grass as a child and looking up at these clouds, trying to find intentional shapes in their unintentional formations.