I myself am regurgitating

In my head

A social gathering

That is three days old

But fresh in my mind,

My friends or friend tells me

If I am anxious about entering a social situation

Don’t do it,

Unless of course you have to

But I didn’t,

And the aura of awkwardness

That I experienced

Still lingers

In a form of a resentment

Basically at me, for going there, to the small party

In the first place.

And the mood that was already there

That stabbed me like a dagger

Rendering me unable to speak

To those already gathered

Thus perpetuating my own misery and fear

And hostility

Pushed everyone away.

This I take ownership of.

Social anxiety is invisible

But was there for all to sense

And to hurt and agonize

In a cloud of negativity

Which lifted

When I left.

That’s the sad part.

Categories: Blog, Creative writing, Philosophy, Poem, Poetry

Tags: Depression, Fear, Isolated, Party