It sure sucks to be shy.

My tentative head slowly retreated;

a timid turtle seeking shelter

in the indispensible silence, a casual

impersonal disconnection from

my surroundings, somewhere that

was safe, where I remained withdrawn,

unspoken to, wordlessly smiling.

.

My voice was a quiet one. Phrases

that emerged out of my throat

easily lost their coordination

and function, always ending up

tangled, in the nearby molecules,

lost between empty places, configuring

spaces. Like a dampened cloth I

hung undisturbed on a shadowed rack,

my existence melting, blending

into the scene.

.

Most of the time you wouldn’t know

what I was talking about, since I never

was able to say what I intended to say.

But how I yearned to be understood,

how I craved for verbal expression,

and how I hid behind my shyness, hugged

it to my chest like a child’s teddy bear

and how I wished to be free from this

imprisonment, this inconsolable

genetic code, this auto-lock of speech and

self and this subliminal separation

and sedimentation of my character.

.

How I wish I could be. I could be

so much more. So much more

than this.

Went to an icebreaker event last night for this club I joined (oh shoot…I forgot to pay the membership fee!) It took me a while to adjust to it since everyone spoke Mandarin, and I hadn’t spoken Mandarin for a while LOL but anyway. The usual social situation for me–I was braindead because I was shy and I couldn’t speak up because I was sick and I sounded like a old hag (and unsuccessfully joked about it and made a complete idiot out of myself) and also I totally screwed up my self-introduction. Bleh. And all the time I was too self-conscious of my throat which felt like it was turning into sandpaper.

I really ought to just take it easy, eh?

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