“You’re a really shy and quiet girl, do you ever talk?” he asked.
The annoyance had to have shown on my face, because it was certainly boiling inside of me.
From my dark blood, to my even darker heart.
Countless times I’ve been told this. And it burns the insides of my body.
I guess it was delivered as a compliment. But really it was a slap in the face…
A reminder that I was constantly singled out for whichever reason. If it wasn’t my mum explaining to the class teacher in pre school that the reason I wasn’t passing was because I was withdrawn and never asked questions in class, it was other kids making fun of my “awkward” jokes…
It was my sister getting her way more because she was more “aggressive”…
It was a random guy apparently drawing me out of my shell…
Throughout my life I’ve had to deal with this deep rooted anger brought about by most people always assuming that I am this shy, socially awkward girl simply because I didn’t, and still don’t talk to every tom dick and harry I meet.
I hate to admit it…to even think about it…
Maybe I am shy…Maybe I am much more quiet than the rest..but so what?!
It has affected a great deal of my life as a whole . I’ve found myself talking too much where I shouldn’t have, and bleeding inside when I could’ve just talked to someone. I’ve done things… dark scarring things that could have probably been avoided…But…
It just sucks when you keep wanting to talk about something that bothers you but you feel like you’ve already talked about it so many times so you just hold it in.
worldofinkwithabitofflesh 