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.