My Social anxiety

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Status: Finished  |  Genre: Poetry  |  House: Booksie Classic
My feelings on not being able to have that outgoing attitude like most people. Please don't tell me that I should work on being outgoing, because that is not what I am writing this for. I am writing this for the pure enjoyment of writing.

Submitted: August 25, 2014

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Submitted: August 25, 2014

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I fiddle with my hands when I’m nervous

I look down towards the surface

Of the earth

I often question why,

Why can’t I be more like them?

I feel like I’m choking when I attempt to speak

my words often come out to appear

Frail, weak

I can’t seem to look strangers in the eye

Doing so, makes me feel like I’m going to die.

Sometimes at night I just lay in my bed and cry

And the question comes to haunt me once again

Why?


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