But The Quest for Beauty is a Beast.

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On Fear

I am fine alone, with people I know, those I don't know... But in class I am silent. God forbid they hear me breathe. I stare down and take notes, not sure of what I'm writing, just sure I won't make eye contact.
For this reason I dropped Spanish. The professor went around the room, quizzing us all. I felt forty sets of eyes all looking, seeing if I could pronounce the words correctly, roll my Rs... Not be stupid. And so of course I stuttered. I always do when speaking in front of large groups of people I don't know. I'm even shy of half my extended family.
I want to stop, to gain more courage, to answer the questions I know. (Part of our grade in Abnormal Psych is participation.)
But I don't. I'm so happy when I'm back inside my apartment. Every year since seventeen I've become unbelievably shy around those I don't know. The year I was raped by someone I didn't know, the year everyone found out, the year my closest friends turned their backs. I became scared of people. I went from laughing, introducing myself, needing to be around lots of people, to akward, shy, fearful...
You can't tell by looking at me. I don't seem that way on the outside. And really, its only bad at school.
Don't get me wrong; I'm not unhappy. I just know I'd be able to do more, take risks, persay, if I wasn't fear. Fear is the one thing that stops me.
Fear... It also makes me want to stop smoking but not enough to do it. A filthy habit I've had since treatment at Rogers in Wisconsin, almost five years ago. I'm a health food addict who smokes.
The irony.

4:49 PM - Tuesday, Feb. 21, 2006
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dying - living