it's one thing i'll never understand about myself, something i'm always fighting, but i always loose and i don't understand why. i mean what am i afraid of? why is it so hard for me to jus come out of my shell? i mean, i like myself, so doesn't that mean other people will too?

shyness . . .

my burden . . . . my curse . . .

so you're prolly thinkin "this bitch is gettin all dramatic and 'woe is me' over the fact that she's shy?"

yes fool, i am . . . it's a bigger burden then you think.

i walk into a room at a party, i'm there to enjoy myself and have a good time just like everybody else, yet, i kant. my fear, fear of fuckin up, lookin like an ass, pissin someone off, keeps me from enjoying that party . . . the first thing i think is that everyone's picking me apart in their heads

"she's fat"

"what is she wearing?"

"she looks like a bitch"

"i don wanna talk to her"

therefore . . . i kant have a good time. i stand there all akward, dk who to talk to or how to start a fucking conversation because i'm soooo . . . . insecure. i spose that would be the right word to use, right?

really, it shocks me . . . after graduating i suprised myself at how much confidence i had gained since i first started high school and now . . . i'm shocked at how little that gain seems to be compared to the confidence level i wish i had.

i'm probably just mind fucking it.

i wind myself up by thinking about how i'm not gunna be shy, i'm gunna talk to people, i'm not gunna be the loner of the party . . .

but how does one conquer their own insecurities? no one ever teaches you that crap in high school.

fuckers.

fuck high school man . . . . they're all "we're preparing you for the real world . . . "

me: "ok bitch here i am . . . when does this preparedness thing kick in?"

tho technically, i don't feel like i'm in the real world yet. my ma still pays my phone bill :/ so how kan i be? . . . but i do wake up every morning and decide what my day is going to look like . . .

before it was . . .

. . . bedroom door slams open and my mother dressed in an army uniform carrying a whip marches into the room, eyes blazing with the fire of a mom on a mission

"WAKE UP CADET. CLEAN YOUR QUARTERS, THE LATRINES, AND I BETTER BE ABLE TO SEE MY FACE IN EVERY PAIR OF SHOES I OWN WHEN I GET BACK FROM MY (enter some ridiculous number of miles i would never even walk here) MILE RUN." i in audibly mumble something smart ass and pay for it with a

CRACK!

the whip flies through the air and lands across my legs . . . a very audible scream follows.

"yes ma'am, sorry ma'am" i hurredly get dressed and carry out my chores . . . which are followed by more chores . . . which is followed by a much needed break full of talking on the phone with my best friend, bitching about how much i hate being a sophomore and wish so badly to be 18.

man time flies.

my ma doesn't really walk around wearing an army uniform and carrying a whip btw . . .

;)

back then i thought 18 would be the answer to all my prayers, questions, pleads, and confusions. turns out yeah it answers some questions but mostly . . . you jus figure out that you have about (ENTER ANOTHER RIDICULOUSLY LARGE NUMBER HERE) more questions then you had before.

wtf man?

n the thing that miffs me the most is no one warns you . . .no ones like "HEY! HEY YOU! yeah so i know you think that 18 is gunna be fuckin awesome, n yeah like it's pretty cool n shit, but really, it just like every other birthday, but you have more responsibilities and more shit to stress about, so have fun!"

but really when i think about it . . . if someone had told my stubborn ass that @ 15 or 16 i would of laughed, because then . . . like i said, 18 was the answer to all my prayers.