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Hi everyone ūüôā I have returned.
I couldn’t come up with any ideas for my next post, so I used the “Inspire Me!” button to give me an idea today. This is what it came up with:

Write about your strongest memory of heart-pounding belly-twisting nervousness: what caused the adrenaline? Was it justified? How did you respond?

Every day of my life is a constant struggle with irrationality. Anxiety lingers within me, coming and going as it pleases. At its worst, I can’t even do anything and have to lay down until it passes.

This most often rears its ugly head in the complex game of being social. I was always content with fading away in the background, since a quiet soul like mine had no place in this bizarre universe.

I was always that one stereotypical different kid: the one who got picked last, picked on for not fitting in, and got looked at funny for being smart. I just couldn’t be “normal” because I didn’t know how.

Depression gripped me from a very early age. The world and everyone in it moved around me, but I stood still. My fear of being social stopped me from moving forward. Those who I tried to talk to looked at me like I have three heads. I wished I could hide in these moments; I wanted to shove these people away and make them forget I even existed. I just couldn’t bear it.

Now as an adult, I still suffer from this. The doubter within me still curses my inability to verbally communicate. I am still trying to decide whether it is worth living life on the sidelines or taking center stage.

So there you have it. I guess this turned into more of a life’s story than I intended it to be…

I will end this off with a short story, demonstrating what this “sideline life” is like.

A plain looking girl sat ever so silently, being careful not to disturb those around her.

“Gooooooal!” A young boy shouted behind her. Cheering erupted, drowning out her thoughts completely. They would never know, for the existence of a cursed soul was of no concern to anyone.

She bit her lip, making sure not to let out her frustrations. Crying was a sign of weakness, and she had done quite enough of that already.

The end of recess approached, and children began running back inside. Inside the walls of that school was nothing but a personal hell: Its warmth absorbed only by the popular kids, the jocks, the straight A students. Everyone else was just leftovers.

“So what the hell is waiting for me here? A knight in shining armor?” She spat, infuriated for being so powerless. She walked in at a snail’s pace, wishing it would all burn.

The rest of her day carried no significance. It was all just fragments; pieces of shattered happiness. All she wanted was to go to sleep. This was her only cure for feeling so useless and incomplete.

Upon returning from hell, she promptly entered her bedroom. She carelessly tossed the dead weight of her backpack onto the floor. It could sit there and rot for all she cared.

“A nap sounds great right now…” She thought. As she closed her eyes, a feeling of comfort washed over her. She was free of burdens in this moment of sleep.

“Good night world…” She whispered. “See you tomorrow, I guess.”

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