This is a new journal that will chronicle my unorthodox life as it goes.
Let's start from Friday the 13th, November, 2015
First period, school hours.
I looked to my wingman, Fisher, who looks at me and utters "do it" in a very Palpatine style. I glance over and see her, an approximately 5' 9" Junior girl, with flowing ginger hair, popular, pretty, and friendly, chatting with her friends (who are quite pea-brained). My anxiety levels rise. I haven't taken my medicine in a couple of weeks.
Fisher walks into a spot and does an obvious motion for me to walk up to her and talk. I have anticipated this for a little while now. It's time to act.
I walk over and say "e-excuse me." She looks at me with a smile, a simple gesture that could mean ANYTHING from a woman. I slowly moved my hand forward to hopefully get a handshake. Her hand touches mine. Before I can shake her hand, she asks "are you okay," in a sweet and concerning voice. I feel my body shaking like Michael J. Fox in the Antarctic.
I reply, "yeah". I ask, "how is your morning so far? Done anything interesting lately?" She responds "good, no." From the nervousness that is the bane of my existence, I ask stupidly "do you wanna see something amazing?" She replies with "Let's see it!"
I reach into my jacket's buttoned pocket and removed the marker and deck of cards inside of it. Magic time....wtf was I thinking.
I hear her friends say "ooo" or "oh god". Still shaking, I struggle to pull out the cards. I then do a terrible fan and say "p-pick a card," still shaking like crazy. She picks a card and shows it to everyone. I then ask her to sign it. She informs me that she doesn't really know how to do a signature and asks if print is okay. She then prints her name on the card. I then attempt a double lift but pull one too many cards up. I screwed up already?
I fold up one of the cards and ask her to bite down on it, flipping another card, showing her signed card to everyone. I look in shock. In frustration, I toss the cards over my shoulder as a variant of the facepalm. Cards go everywhere. She asks "Awww, why did you do that?"
I look her in the eye and say "I ****** up". I clean the cards up and step away. Soon after, the bell rings for our transition of periods. Fisher pats me on the back, proud of me for being brave enough to talk to her. Later on, I explain this to my therapist. He suggests that what happened is minor, and with a few apologies in order and a normal conversation, I can steer into a much more pleasant direction. I plan on trying again tomorrow, 7 days after. I didn't do it because my instincts said not to.
Moral of the story, do things when you're prepared.
Last edited by Roxas; 11-20-2015 at 07:34 PM.
It takes a Teen Age Riot to get me out of bed right now.
follow my epic twitter account @chairycoke
Well, that was enlightening.
this moved me to tears and i didn't even read it!