I'm really glad I found my humor before high school. Not a lot of people understand the divide between what is and isn't funny, or what is and isn't appropriate. I'm so happy I dealt with the awkwardness of trying to tell a joke, then restarting because I thought no one heard me, and then making eye contact while I was the only one smiling. I'm so glad I had friends who were quick to call me out when I made an insensitive joke, or pointed out when I said something I knew nothing about. I'm so glad that all happened in middle school where no one important remembers enough to bring it up.

Ugh, I can't imagine how much of a loser I'd be if I didn't know how to read social cues and descalate conversations.

Social awkwardness is a given when approaching an open elevator, stepping inside, and just as the doors are slowly closing, another person dashes into the small box that you call your personal space. Do I make eye contact, smile, nod, acknowledging their existence? Yeah, Why not? I then hit the button and remain staring at it like it's going to change colors or something, then when that gets old, I look at the ceiling and imagine, "what if the elevator got stuck, can I climb up and squeeze through the upper panel like Bruce Willis would do in Die Hard? Just then, the elevator dings, the doors open and I step out. Whew, that was the longest 30 seconds of my life!

You stand in the mist of a sea of blood thirsty sharks... Okay, so not a sea, probably just like 10. Also, I guess their not really sharks, they’re really children your age.And they aren’t blood thirsty, just having fun.

Some part of you wants to join the game, wants to swim with them. Despite your want to join in, you take a few steps back.Stand with the adults, the safe group. The group you know won’t think you’re weird.Even though you know this, you barely speak. And when you do you over analyse every little word you want to say and end up just nodding your head cuz it the safest bet.

You wait there till you see that one person.The only person in the entire place that you are able to say more than two words to. You want to walk over, smiling and waving but don’t. Waiting. Wondering if you are bothering her. If you are chasing her away. You remember with regret the first time you chased away a friend. It really hurt. You don’t want it to happen again.

Luckily, your friend walks over to you and starts the conversation. You smile and join in. A small weight is taken off your bruised shoulders, but some of it is still there. You have to be careful. You don’t want to chase away the only person you are close to. So you nod, you agree, you stay quiet when you’re not spoken to and wait for her to make the first move. You know that she might take it the wrong way, but the anxiousness and fear that pools in your gut when you try to speak wins over. So you give up and merely submit to your bleak future of being alone.