Everything suddenly seems so imperfect,
the room too small and untidy.
I could count the number of places
I should be hiding.  

Adrenaline anxiety,
fueling my imagination
into implausible places,
but they seem possible right now.

I know, in reality
it would be ok,
but I can't agree with that,
I would rather be frantic.

It's easier, and harder
and I can't decide,
if it's any consolation
to have a name for this.  

Hey, I'd have a name tag,
to declare why you can't come over
why I can't message you back right now,
why I just can't.

And it would say:

Hello, my name is Anxious Introvert,
Please don't come over.