I’m sorry.
I’m sorry that my hands tremble when I’m about to talk to someone you just introduced me to.
I’m sorry that I’m not able to give my best impression and stand up to my full potential when I become all warm and red.
I’m sorry for stammering and not being able to form coherent sentences.
I’m sorry that my eyes glisten when I don’t feel comfortable in a new place, even when I’m right next to you.
It’s not you, babe.
It’s me.
I’m sorry that I’m not able to place an order in a restaurant,
or when I’m not able to pick up unknown calls because my voice cracks while talking to somebody I’m not familiar with.
I know it must feel like I’m pretending, because I act like I’m bold.
But I’m not.
I try to act tough so that I am not approached by strangers that I’m afraid of.

I didn’t think it through.
I think only about the worst case scenario of every situation that I’m put into.
I didn’t ask for this anxiousness.
I didn’t ask to feel scared and lonely when I’m with a group of people.
I didn’t ask to be able to overthink every thing you say.
And I know,
you holding my shaking hands is to make me feel better and calm,
to stop my fingers from quivering violently.
I know,
your arms around my shoulders are there to make me feel like I know my surroundings,
like I’m at home.
I know that your peck on my forehead is placed to make me feel better,
but I’m sorry.
I don’t know how it stops.
I didn’t ask for this.

~KC
23.12.18
2:01 PM