Social Anxiety

Sometimes I swear I have it. Man.
Once upon a time I biked past a group of white boys who turned out to be the Asian guys from my church, but they were balling and all that so I thought I could pass without their notice. But alas no, they noticed, and one idiot called my name, to which I responded by saying hi and immediately taking a 180, biking furiously in the opposite direction. Social anxiety: case in point.
Flustered, they say. Too obvious.

It kind of sucks. The people I've seen get nervous look like fools, giggling like freaks or coming to a standstill in original thoughts and creative commentary. I have a problem pacing my words to come in human pauses and losing my ability to respond with appropriate timing and saliva. The good thing is that I'm usually in a place where I can run away or avoid eye contact. And today I was sweating in 96 degrees so no one was looking at me. Hopefully.

And awkward hands of course. Ever wonder where hands go? Sometimes those extremities are the most regrettable flopping slabs of meat. These occasions are just one of many types of instances that I wish I could have boy hair and walk out the house with one swoop of a finger comb. Remember my post about never finding good pants? True story. That hurts at these times too.

In my case, I just try to ignore all of these things and just be a normal friend, but that's where my diagnosis comes in. If I truly have social anxiety, then I will never be able to help it. I will be stuck at laughing like Phil Wong and flailing for eternity.

Just kidding. I don't have it. I like people... I'm just awkward maybe.