Sometimes, I get embarrassed.
By my awkward, goofy features.
By my pretentious, know-it-all attitude.
By my anxious, self-concerned demeanor.
I act big, and I talk bigger.
I am the loudest.
I cut people off.
I take up space in conversation,
and in theaters
and on buses
and at restaurants
and in my own home.
Where I seem to be growing outwards,
only to be trapped
in myself.
My anxious, awkward, earthly existence.
I fumble and struggle and slip.
I become a pathetic pile of self doubt.
I am suddenly the embodiment of embarrassment.
And sometimes, I get
embarrassed.
But
mostly,
I embarrass myself.