Word Count

Being socially awkward is an adventure. Everyday is different. Sure, it’s frustrating. It’s also a mystery to in not knowing what I’m going to say next. For all the awkward ones out there, here is a spotlight to shine a light on an understanding that there’s more awkward ones out there. You’re not alone my friend. When someone says hello, you have this amnesic response within that makes it feel like you are at a loss of words. You scramble for something to respond, and you end up embarrassing yourself. I’ll think about the words that I said for a good amount of time. It stirs within and curates an unbearable substance that directly contributes to a strong pull of fear the next time you’re forced to socially interact with someone. I tend to stress on the matter. Yes, it is partly comical in hindsight, but in the moment it feels terrible. When eighteen years of your life have passed by and you still struggle with talking with people, it begins to feel like a tedious blockade. 

I despise the feeling I get in front of an audience. It is a gut wrenching, heart thumping, palm sweating, mind warping experience.  When you say something you don’t want to say, you feel the strangest feelings. It’s a regret that you can’t accurately describe. It’s looking in the mirror and seeing a mess. It’s crawling into bed with a malicious voice imitating your horrid memories. It’s the confliction of the former manipulating with the mellifluous flow of settlement, that seems so constricting. It’s the most overwhelming experience. I dread the regret. I ponder what it would be like to find harmony. The consonance seems to be available. I can observe it. I can hear it through the playful laughter. I can see it through the unwavering smiles. I can feel it in the overwhelming confidence some people carry themselves with. A independent magistrate overrules my every move. My every attempt at confidence. It’s a dictator that expands his accord through confidentially confining the necessary evidence of a settlement. He hides the information I am in need of. He ties me to a cardboard chair, that I have to squat upon. He sets it above the railroad tracks and twists the tracks above so that they’re aimed towards the sky. He paints a different picture above, so that I can see what he sees. I become a coward in his game.

I like dry humor. I like thrilling literature. I like analyzing film. I like watching films. I like creating stuff. I don’t enjoy mass social interaction. I’m in no shape or form of a student in the form of logical reasoning or AKA common sense. I see prom. I don’t want a part of it. I see that huge party, I don’t want to be a part of it. I see the drinking, and the smoking. I don’t want any part of it. I am a strange dude. I realize this. I’m unpredictably predictable. You know where to find me, but I might have taken up another passion. I’m a servant to creativity. Not to be confused with a slave. I sort of feel like I am a slave to judgement, on occasion, but that is beside the point. I am an understudy of the wonderful world that we can create. This world can only provide so much. In my head there is so much more. The volcanic eruption can become a pool of misunderstanding. The rich lawyer that frantically curses, strictly sticks to a regiment and finds it necessary of him to leave an individual at a loss for words with his firm tone and his rich vocabulary. This same man can become a pleasant bee keeper who sells his money for investment in building a neighborhood shelter. I am not saying reality is bad or evil. I am merely attempting to explain the power of our minds and my tendency to live in it. I tend to enjoy it more because it is a foundational world that I can understand, or misunderstand. It is a world that I can create, that I can manipulate. I can choose to create people who understand me. I can create a land of peace and freedom. I can cast away all pollution from my world and leave it clean from human alteration.

Through my mind there is hope and joy. There is life and maturity. There is green grass, and valleys of fertile lands. A carrying sun that casts a magnificent shadow upon the ground that doesn’t seem to be a detriment to the continuation of growth. Yes, there is regret that seemingly likes to play in these fields, but he is not nearly as much as a nuisance as focusing solely on the repetitive schedules of life. So, I guess, being awkward gives you a certain mindset. I don’t always want to talk. Instead, I think and grow. I don’t always go out to the craziest parties, but I get to develop stories, and share my story with the people on here. Even without recognition or support I feel humbled and honored to have the ability to express myself.

Sometimes, I look down at the word count, and stress. Then, I remind myself that it’s not about that. I just harmonize with my inner voice and talk. It’s not about completing a assignment, turning in a paper, it’s about doing something you enjoy. I get the opportunity to discover myself every day through what I write. Yesterday, might be different from what I write today, and that is fine. This shows that I grow. This shows that I am perfectly human. I am perfectly unique in my ever developing self. So you like dry humor. So you enjoy sarcasm. So you enjoy writing. That is who I am. There is no reason to extort some sort of culture out of thin air. We are all individuals. For us awkward people. The introverted people who struggle with different feelings. The people who love interacting but just don’t have the extroverted capabilities to do so sufficiently. Escapism is the only solution to a charismatic creature to form. Where ever you can find your escape is the best suited structure for development. I feel like I have used the word development way too much, but it is an important concept to grasp. I am in no way a teacher, so you do not have to take these words and set them in stone or put them under your pillow at night. In no way am I trying to express to you that I am the better one here. That I am the one with the most understanding and knowledge of the future and society as a whole. I am just a simple man who is trying to find his way in this big world. I am sometimes scared to even step out my house, but I can create a better mindset to motivate me. I can worry less and gain more. Eyes become ears. Ears become flowers of ambivalent gratification. Yes, this flower may seem to be wilting but really it is evaluating. It will one day grow into what you want it to be. I am willing to risk it all to seek for the seed of potential. Willing to ride through the turmoil and dress with the weight of the world on my shoulders.

One day the word count won’t matter. It will be what I make it. The world will be what I dreamt it would be. I will live out my potential and ride off fashionably into the sunset. An assertive fellow might come along and kick me off my horse, but I’ll help my horse back up and continue on. Perseverance will abstain the villains that dig holes in the road of success and find rendering a tool to use in their lustful game that is motivated purely by jealousy and greed. It simply wants what you want. It wants freedom. It wants a path traveled for them. You have the map and they want to partake in your adventure. I wouldn’t know I’m just an awkward, oddball of a guy, what would I have to offer for ya?


Thanks for reading!



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