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Status: Finished  |  Genre: True Confessions  |  House: Booksie Classic
Just a small thing that happened at the store today.

Submitted: July 23, 2011

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Submitted: July 23, 2011



You just don't get it.

The difficulties I have when it comes to social interactions...Doing things in front of people...Constantly worrying about how people look at me, judge me, talk about me. I take in every fucking stare and point towards me!

We're in the store and I didn't ask you to buy me ice cream. I didn't ask you. You offered.
I don't understand why you make such a big deal of me...You're embarrassed enough solely by how I dress. As usual, the only girl dressed in all black...But it's my choice, not yours.

Surely enough, you hand me my ice cream and tell me to eat it before it melts. I see you going over to the counter to fill up your soda. I stand there by myself next to your shopping cart, making sure no one comes over to grab anything purchased. I look around and see the tables filled with people staring at me...Even when I'm wearing sunglasses, I can't help but notice everyone staring and talking about me, pointing at me, bumping into me...
You turn around and see me looking like a mannequin, being so still holding my ice cream in my hand. You give me this angry face as though you're even more embarrassed to be seen with me acting like a still doll.

You forget something and go back to order a polish hotdog for him. I'm well aware of my ice cream beginning to melt, no need to remind me. It's in a plastic cup however, not a cone. I turn all around slowly observing faces to see if I recognize anyone...Soon enough, of course I see a girl named Sydney from school. Noticing her makes me observe every action I do even more...

I wonder if she notices me, recognizes me, is analyzing my every move like I'm doing to myself.

I spent that short minute worrying about everyone staring at me, and seeing who I am, though I am covered in sunglasses.

I stand still until I see her coming back to me.

She doesn't say a word to me until we're back at the car, until she delivers the groceries in the trunk, until she gets back into the driver's seat.

"You look like a fucking moron." She screams at me. "You stand there as if you're some brain-damaged zombie retard. You're the only one who's staring at yourself, looking like a freak like you always do. Next time just stay at home, alone in your room with the door locked and the curtains shut!"

"People were watching me, everyone was..."

"No! You are the only one watching yourself. You MAKE people stare at you. The way you dress, the way you look, the way you act, you don't even fucking move! And you make ME look like an idiot! God! Don't you ever think of anyone else when you act so fucking retarded? That behavior right there, a lot of people will be looking at you more if you just started eating."

I don't like arguing with her, because she can never accept me. "I have social anxiety..."

"Then fix it! God you are such a fuck up! If I was someone else, I'd wonder what the fuck was wrong with you! Look at your brother, he never had this problem -- we NEVER had this problem with him! What the fuck went wrong with you?" She snarled at me. "Social anxiety is just some made up shit for retards like you to avoid being around people. You don't have any problems, your problem is just behaving like a fucking retard all the time!"

"I know I have a problem. Why can't you stop yelling and accept this?"

"OH, I am accepting this. Don't get me wrong. I'm accepting that you'll never make it to college and I'm surprised if you even graduate this year of high school! You'll always be dependent on us and you'll never have any friends! You say you want to go into psychiatry when you already see your own, you say you want to help people when you're the biggest fuck up who needs the most help!"

I sat there in the car enjoying her rants towards my unsocial coorperation, thinking about how many seconds it'd take to die if I opened the car door and slid out while another car was coming right at me.

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