Being called “annoying”
Is like a glacier, frigid, rigid, inescapable preventing from social contact

A choking, strangling feeling penetrating your veins. A stone crushed by the might of a palm

Isolated, observing, analysing social conversations yet never overcoming the boundary

A tether severed and knotted to the throat. A rush of pain caught in the wind at the hilt of the dagger.

But a hand, a few words can reach into the chasm, rejoice and untie.
Create connections and weave intricate relationships, to bloom into a captivating flower.

That hint of compassion, gradually using the rubble to form a new personality, saving esteem.

Blooming, prospering