I wasn’t always shy. Talking wasn’t a huge problem for me, unless I was forced to talk to a stranger. But it is natural for a kid to become shy when meeting new people. It becomes a worry when you’re fifteen-years-old and can’t even talk to your own cousins, who are a year or two older than you. But there is a beginning for everything and this beginning happened in the fourth grade.

It started with a typical cliché story, where a girl meets a boy, and the girl ends up liking the boy but becomes too shy to talk to him. The boy moves on with his life as she stands in the background trying to avoid him for the rest of eternity. This is the type of crush that happens once in a lifetime. It’s the first crush.

In elementary school, nobody can keep a secret. From experience I taught myself to keep things low profile. My trust issues began here and new insecurities introduced themselves each year. As I grew older, I limited my contact with the opposite sex because they were what brought my insecurities. It wasn’t until middle school that I realized it is also my gender that exposed my insecurities.

It soon became hard to talk to anybody that I didn’t already talk with. I have the same group of friends that I am comfortable with, in my own personal bubble. I’ve known them since the fifth grade but it wasn’t until the eighth grade, when I started to share secrets with them. Besides them I had my best friend.

My best friend has been with me since kindergarten and I trusted her not to get me killed. It is until we got to middle school, we started to have our own group of friends. We were different, so it didn’t really surprise me, but it still hurt. She is talkative compared to me and I guess she found her own group while I found mine. But we still manage a way to hang out together.

It’s not only my friends who are communicative, but also my family. Every single one of my family members can talk, including my little sister. They tease me about it but sometimes it becomes too much that it ends up racing through my mind and into my heart. I hear and see the criticism dripping off their words and all I do is stare.

Every time I look at all of them talking to other people I feel jealousy pulsing through my body. My heart pounds faster and the sudden urge to scream out my frustration and punch a wall washes over me. Why is it so easy for them to communicate with other people? How do they do it? Why is it so hard for me? How come I’m the one that is different? I don’t understand.

Inkblot Wolf (1)

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