People scare me. 

New people and old acquaintances alike scare me. I am horrible at interacting with people, so I fear I’ll, in some unholy fashion, completely break any relations I have with people.

I can’t deal with people. If I had a job in customer service, I think I might keel over dead from fear. That’s how bad I am at talking to people. I think I would actually rather die than force my way through many social situations.

I can’t deal with people, and even asking for help from the people I’m closest to is hard. I’m fine with admitting that I need help to myself, and I know that people won’t judge me for it, but what if they do?

I hide the fact that I really care about what people think of me. I don’t feel confident to verbally admit it to my closest confidants. I hide behind the anonymity of people not knowing who I am when I write or express myself. 

I doubt that anyone outside of my friends and the band kids know who Kyle Basher is. Despite that being my literal name, it feels like a persona more than myself. A Kyle who is stronger than I am. A Kyle who can admit and believes he has issues. A Kyle that can.

I can’t deal with people, let alone myself. I seldom tell people my problems, let alone be able to convince myself to admit them. I am a self-deprecating pessimist. I see a minor mistake as my major fault.

The fun fact about that destructive combination of mental states is that I feel that I barely do things right. I’m a smart kid, and I can say it, but I can’t believe it.

I can’t deal with people, and I can’t feel that I belong in any social situation. Often, I find myself feeling ostracized from the cliques of people in school when they are just as open to me joining them as I am to joining them.

With the new semester being just over a week old, I find that I have gotten extremely tired after school because I just haven’t been in the presence of people for so long.

I’m confident that I have taken more naps in the span of a week and some odd days then I have in my entire life all just because I can’t deal with people.

I can’t deal with people, and I hate it. I hate that I have a physical limiter on my social interaction because I really do enjoy talking to people, but how can I even get a chance to talk to those I want when my body lulls and coerces me to sleep from the time I get home until midnight?

I can’t. I can’t deal with people. I can’t deal with myself. I can’t change who I am, and I can’t pretend that I haven’t tried.

I can’t do a lot, but there is one thing I can do: come to terms with my faults.