Look at me and treat me like the dumb **** I am. Criticize my behavior, because that is what youíve been trained to do and Iím here for the butt of your joke. Iím inexperienced, naive, and slightly dense, but not oblivious to your actions. Iím sorry I make your life difficult, but Iím uncomfortable with this too, and itís miserable. I wish you knew.
A pressure is crushing my chest and itís making me stutter. I canít even look you in the eye. How amazing it must feel to communicate so naturally, yet every day I struggle to expel an idea. Do you want to try to make sense of my word vomit? I donít blame you if youíre confused.
These lights are so bright and my head is throbbing. The noise around me is suffocating. A few people are beside me, but it feels like a crowd. There is no way to escape. Iím trapped, Iím claustrophobic, and I want to cry, but I donít want to reveal another weakness. I struggle to understand why Iím afraid and why a grown adult is feeling this way, especially around their own kind. What is the threatening cause of my behavior and how have I gotten to this point?
I attempt to vocalize my thought, but everyone is puzzled and they donít know how to respond. The look of pity escalates with tension in my chest and I wonder how I would appear if I were looking at myself. I try to swallow the anxiety, but I end up choking on my saliva. My eyes become wide and dodge awkwardly across the room, because I can no longer hide my nervousness. A trembling sensation travels up my legs and to the pit of my stomach, making me feel as though Iím going to regurgitate my breakfast. At this point, Iím very restless and disturbed. Iím very aware of my body and overly sensitive to my surroundings. My movements become uneasy and people begin to question my abilities. Standing idle makes me more nervous, as though they are expecting me to do something, yet Iím afraid of making a further *** of myself. The intensity of the situation makes me black out and I forget my reactions, but I can clearly see theirs.
I ****ing hate being the moron, the dimwit, the weird gal, and I canít stand that it puts me in the spotlight, because Iím bizarre. There is no way to turn this around, because Iíve tried. The anxiety is more manageable than it used to be, but itís a never-ending battle. The stress is going to shred years off of my life. I canít imagine the effect it has on my health. I wonder if this feeling will continue in a spiritual form, or does it end when I rid myself of this body? How possible is mind over matter and why is it so complicated to manipulate my thoughts?