• Please be gentle. This is from a phobic's P.O.V.
    It may seem random and not 'flowy'. Is that even a word lol
    Please leave comments! Especially if you have this disorder because I would love to hear from you! heart


    I think it’s really stupid that we all live life as a double standard. Maybe some don’t—I wouldn’t know. My existence is nothing but a double standard.

    I have Social Anxiety Disorder. In other words, God gave me a messed up brain that made me have a fear of people. I have a heart. In other words, God gave me a need for love.

    Oh, how karma is a b***h.

    !!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

    It’s a Saturday night. To make it even better it’s the Homecoming Dance.

    Yet here I sit at home all alone with a bowl of Mac & cheese and my good buddy, Stephenie Meyer. My older twin sisters, Merissa and Melissa (gag me, I know) should be having the time of their lives now at their Senior Homecoming Dance, one of their final blowouts other than the all worshiped Prom.

    As a freshmen my Mom thought I would be jumping for joy for my first amazingly awesome Homecoming of my high school career. When I laughed at her enthusiasm she coldly told me to go to my room and continue being the hermit I was. Thanks so much for the parental love, Mommy.

    Not that she knows I have a disorder or anything. She thinks that I’m just going through a rebellious stage and being crabby like any other 14-year-old girl. I wish that were the case.

    I turned down DBSK’s ‘Stand By U’ that I had blasting on my computer. The sudden loudness scared me since Bella was having an ‘Alien’ moment and the song totally killed the vibe of her being torn apart by her own kid. No matter how many times I read it it still gives me the shivers and I pray to God that when the movie comes out that they will edit most of the child birth scenes.

    I flopped back down on my bed and stared at the ceiling as I felt my first wave of shame hit me. It always came whenever I felt left out and that was all the time. Then again, I kind of involuntary brought this on myself. I closed my eyes as the stinging began and the tears poured down my cheeks.

    Mom and Dad are gone for the night at a concert and the twins were, of course, at Homecoming. And so were my select few friends who were probably partying crazy since this was their first time being at a true dance. I could see Sarah dancing in the middle of the floor and getting the attention of all the guys. Course, it did help that she had a nice figure and a ‘friendly’ personality. Then there was Teresa who was most likely head banging to every country or rap song out there just to show off her heavy metal-ness. And Jake, I smiled, he was crazy enough by himself that he didn’t need the help of those two. Rick was like shy like me so I could see him standing next to them thinking ‘what the hell’ or glued to the wall.

    Merissa—oh, excuse me Homecoming Queen-Blonde-b***h-Head-Cheerleader-Merissa would just be beaming with the satisfaction that her rival, Jackie, was still #2 and therefore lower in rank than her. Jackie had tried to steal her boyfriend and star of the football time, Justin, but unfortunately Justin didn’t break up with Merissa. A tiny part of me was hoping that Jackie would succeed and let Merissa get what’s coming to her and then I felt so guilty thinking that because…I don’t know. As much as I hate Merissa I still wouldn’t want her heart broken.

    Then there was Melissa. The jock. Ace runner of the track time and the delight of the whole school. She was just as popular as Merissa yet a hell of a lot easier to like because wasn’t wrapped up in herself. I have a feeling though the real reason is that she sleeps around a lot. A tiny part of me was hoping she would get a STD just teach her a lesson but, then I felt so guilty thinking that because…hmm. As much as I hate Melissa I still wouldn’t want her to have a life sentence for her stupid mistakes in high school.

    This was me. Me being pitiful and wishing terrible s**t on everyone who was living their life no matter how sinful it may be. Me feeling evil for having the thoughts of a bully and wanting to harm others. I hated myself so much for that. F-f-for that negative thought process.

    I suddenly sat up and furiously wiped my eyes to try to stop another rush of tears.

    Damnit, why was I born this way? Why couldn’t I be normal and have fun like everyone else? Why couldn’t I enjoy late nights out and text like crazy and hang out at the mall? Why couldn’t I have a boyfriend?

    I felt my whole body shake and let out a howl.

    Help me, please. Why was I born this way? Why do I have such a strong desire to be different and not do drugs and drink like everyone else? Why do not want to get in trouble for staying past curfew and hate text talk and find that the mall is just a money sucker? Why did I only want the fantasy of a boyfriend and not the real thing?

    How could I want all of these things that were so clearly opposite of each other, so clearly not able to have at the same time? This is what this disorder and my purity did to me, constantly conflicting and confusing me. Now I felt bad for swearing so much even though it was all in my mind and no one heard it.

    I admired my friends and sisters for being so outgoing and popular yet hated them so much for being so disrespectful of themselves.

    I looked over at my computer screen that had become blurred from my tears and saw the fuzzy images of multiple Jaejoongs and Mickys. I turned the page in my book and saw that there were a few wet spots that soaked the page. Stupidly, I tried to dry them away with the sleeve of my shirt and became frustrated at not being able to anything about it.

    “I wish you were my boyfriend, Jacob,” I said aloud. Maybe it was to confirm that I was still existing and still feeling sorry for myself. “If you had imprinted on me I wouldn’t have to worry about not being loved or doing wrong or afraid of not being able to love someone else properly. You would see me as the best even if I’m not.”

    I choked out a laugh and tried to crack a smile at my foolishness. I just did what so many popular teenagers find so utterly pathetic.

    “The loser girl wishing she had the perfect imagine nary boyfriend. ‘How low can she get?’ they must think. ‘Fiona is so ugly and so nerdy that she could never get laid’ they would say.”

    I flipped another page but, with a little too much anger, and tore a bit of the page.

    “ ‘Fiona has an undesirable body’ they would say and snicker behind my back.”

    I slammed the book shut and stomped over to my computer.

    Suddenly my imagine nary beat down from the kids at school turned into a full blown war against myself.

    “ ‘She has Social Anxiety Disorder. She’s a freak. How wrong is that? You can’t forgive something like that. Alcoholics and druggies are more prideful than her.’”

    I gripped the desktop then crumpled to the ground into a ball and started crying again. The song was over and it had moved on to a cheery anime opening theme but I couldn’t quite bring myself to laugh at the irony of the situation.

    I was a freak. I stayed home all the time and watched Asian dramas and listened to Asian music. I read manga and obsessed over it. I was no better than the old man who looked through the perverted romance mangas in the bookstore.

    I was a freak. I couldn’t even look people in the eye without turning red in the face and sweating bullets. I couldn’t be in a crowd of people without wanting to scream in fear and run away as fast as I could. I couldn’t even bring myself to say ‘hello’ when a polite stranger said ‘good morning’ to me.

    What was worse was that unlike an alcoholic or a druggie or a sex addict is that I couldn’t get help unless I tried. But I had to ask a stranger and that was the core of my fear. I was all alone in this. No ‘intervention’ could help me. I had to get myself help and save myself. Family and friends can’t lock up my bottles or hide my drugs or take away my porn tapes.

    No. This was all solo. For us with this disorder we’re all on our own.

    How cruel is that?

    I started to cry harder but, this time it wasn’t for myself. It was all the people out there like me who were hurting just as much as I was.