Awkward - Friday, November 15, 2024.

I'm not a bad man; I'm just overwhelmed. — These Things by She Wants Revenge.

It's cute in a way 'til you cannot speak. — Tear You Apart by She Wants Revenge.

Listening: Spring 1 - Recomposed: Vivaldi's Four Seasons by Max Richter.

In my short lifetime with the relatively few social interactions I've encountered, I learned that most people are awkward around new people. Of course, they learn to become less stiff, more themselves, as they get to know each other better, but those first few interactions are almost painful, cringeworthy in their silence, their stumbling of sentences and trite though well-meaning questions.

One would think that knowing most people feel the same way I often do when I meet them, I would feel better, feel less alone and more capable of natural conversation. Unfortunately such has not been the case. Instead the tension in me just rises with the knowledges that my presences, my strangeness, is causing someone else to feel like a cat out of its skin. Consequently I become more intimidated by them: people. I fear what they'll say next; I fear they won't say anything. I fear I am the problem — Perhaps I am.

Put yourself out there, everyone says. It'll help to get out of your shell, make new friends. Yet rarely has putting myself out there benefited me in the long-term; any friendships I do make are not sustained. In some cases even, putting myself out there has resulted in long-term pain, regret, and shame. Yet I don't know any other way of connecting with people than trying and being around them and often failing again and again. I've wanted to quit so many times — I still often do wish to quite — Just stop, give up on humans, and become a recluse, a hikikomori, a loner. Yet, I don't. I've been those things, and it felt far worse than any social awkwardness I've experienced. The shame and isolation is indescribable to those who have never felt it. As for those who have… Well, I don't need to tell you, do I?

So I keep persisting. I put myself out there. So far, there have been very few benefits — but it may just be early days. I must give myself some grace to fail in society — I'm an autistic teen with a bunch of mental issues, probable social anxiety, who wasn't raised to be socially fluent. I could blame my parents, doing so would be so easy. However, that wouldn't help either. I have to do this myself; I have to fix what is broken and gain what I've never had; I have to keep going. There is no better way.