Social Anxiety

Everyone is better than me,

but I’m no better than anyone else.

I have to have something in my hands.

But will they notice me fidgeting?

Will they notice me continuously combing and placing my hair,

or how frizzy it is despite my best efforts to tame it just for this occasion?

Will they notice the acne that has crept onto my face well after my years of adolescence and into adulthood?

What a rip off that was.

My makeup isn’t even.

Are my clothes lying the right way?

Make sure to smile and nod.

Shit.

What did they say?

Did I eat this too fast?

Oh god, did I eat too much?

I’m the first one finished.

I have nothing to do with my hands now.

Pay attention.

Pay attention.

Pay attention!

Why do I care so much?

They won’t remember anything I did or said 30 minutes after this is over.

Remember to say things.

But not too many things.

Do they care what I have to say?

Probably not.

I care what they have to say because what if they have no one that listens to them?

God, I’m exhausted.

I feel like I can’t even breathe too loudly.

Everything has to run smoothly.

You’re the one who’s not making it run smoothly.

You’re the problem.

Quit noticing everything.

But notice everything.

I rehearsed hours before this what to say, yet I haven’t said anything that I rehearsed.

Don’t crack jokes.

Not everyone likes your sense of humor.

But now I’m boring and uninteresting.

I’m going to fixate on this hours after it’s over.

They’re still talking.

I can’t remember if I’ve said anything.

Contribue to the conversation.

But not too much.

Make sure you’re not zoning out at the wall.

How close am I to the door?

This was a lot easier before I got sober.

Everyone has a drink except for me.

I bet they think I’m a stick in the mud.

Can’t tell anyone I’m uncomfortable.

I wish I were more like them.

My head is so loud.

Oh.

It’s over. It’s time to leave.

Yes, it was a pleasure meeting you, too.