Even I’m annoyed by my case of social anxiety.

It’s not all my fault, though. Yeah, sure, pushing the blame on someone else sounds like the worst thing to do, but it’s the only logical thing I can think of.

I’m not the most courageous person I know. I can only have enough guts to do anything when I’m with a friend or someone I know. I don’t like doing anything alone unless it’s something that can be done on your own (aka writing on the computer). I loathe human interaction. I would rather you kill me than have me walk up or call a stranger to do normal adult stuff.

Other than me not being a courageous person in the first place, even though I was pretty bold as a kid, a passing comment that really hurt my self-esteem probably sealed the entire deal of me being reclusive.

After that passing comment and the person who made the comment refusing to apologize for it, saying that it was not their fault I’m insecure, it basically ruined my life. I didn’t want to talk at all anymore, even though I’m a super talkative person. I won’t stop talking if I get the chance to.

But now I don’t. I don’t want to talk to people, I don’t want to talk to anyone who doesn’t understand and would “assume my gender” based on the sound of my voice. I hated that idea, so I’d rather never talk and pretend to be mute or just very quiet person whenever “talking” has to be done.

I give up my seat for an elderly person by standing up, looking at the elder and gesturing to the seat I just stood up from, instead of telling the elderly person they can have my seat directly with words.

I’ve been doing alright like this for at least 6 years. I don’t think I’ll be able to snap out of it even when I get the right hormones to make myself comfortable with my voice.

Which is a huge problem.

I’m so annoyed by it. I freeze up whenever the possibility of having to talk to someone on the phone is possible. I look desperately at my best friend in hopes that she would help me do it. I feel helpless, so completely helpless.

Moreover, I feel annoying. If I were someone who had to talk for someone else, who has trouble finding their own voice to do it, I’d be glad to for the first few times until it’s very obviously their own problem that doesn’t involve me, and that it’s obvious they should deal with it on their own.

According to the shipping service, there was something wrong with the address I provided them with. Of course, logically, anyone would dial the office’s number and start figuring out what the problem is and deal with it appropriately.

I just sat there, horrified by the four voice messages informing me about the same problem and urging me to call back. I didn’t know what to do until my best friend told me to call them back, which she did so by snatching my phone out of my hand after I protested weakly, saying that I’d rather abandon the package.

Turns out the problem is that my best friend’s dad found out about the package since I used her address, and since I dumbly put my own name on the thing, he called the office and said no such person lives there.

The person on the phone suggested that we could go to an office to take the package on our own, but needed to provide the correct documentation to verify that I am the person the package is delivering to so that they can hand it to me.

I did not like the sound of that.

We could always change the address to another one, a “correct” one as they would say it. But there was nowhere else. I can ship it to another friend’s house, but then I remembered the name being mine and the entire thing could happen all over again. was just my fault. I should have used my friends’ names if I were to use their address.

It was just my fault. I should have used my friends’ names if I were to use their address.

After she hung up to allow us time to consider what the next move is, I refused to go to the post office but I also don’t know what else I could do.

It’s obvious she’s reluctant to call her dad to clear things up, too. I understand why. Things can get rough and it’s not really a good thing to give your address around to ship things that you didn’t order, even if it’s a friend.

As I sat there, tongue-tied. I really wondered if she would let me just leave the package even though I paid nearly six hundred dollars for it. I wanted to get it out of my suddenly tight throat that she didn’t have to do anything more because it’s obvious that she was getting frustrated.

How am I supposed to just immediately conquer my fear of human interaction, though? I cannot just waltz right up there and start talking with my disgusting voice about how I want to pick up my package when I hardly even know how shipping works.

Everything was just a mess and I don’t know when and how but she said she’ll call her dad and stood up to make the call.

I felt terrible that I was immediately relieved. I was relying on her way too much and even though it’s the only way now, I’ll stop using her address to ship anything else. I can’t even use my own address because my parents don’t know I have a card that can do online transactions.

Well, my mother knows, but she’s not happy about it and I promised her I wasn’t really going to use it to buy anything. Which is obviously a lie, and I’m pretty sure she knows it.

I don’t want to have an awkward conversation telling my mother what the package is when she sees it in the mail, especially not when the guard downstairs only views my mother as the person to hand mail to when it’s too big to fit in the mailbox.

Dumb things I buy on the Internet, like ridiculously overpriced merchandise and equally ridiculously overpriced binders, are not easily explainable to my mother because she will shout at my face and say that I didn’t need those things (especially if she knows it’s expensive).

And even though I’m a piece of shit for not dealing with my own problems and avoiding it completely if possible just because the passing comment has turned into some sort of hatred against my own voice, I don’t appreciate people giving me shit when it comes down to it.

I’m sitting there, panicking and beginning to have trouble breathing and you’re there telling me I’m worthless and an idiot, that I should have used her name if I’m using her address, or that it’ll be better if I’d just pick up the package from the office since it can’t be shipped anywhere.

Tears in my eyes and throat tightening, I don’t think I’ll have the strength to reply you. So I’ll just sit there and take it. And you’ll never get a verbal response from me.

And I fucking hate that I can’t control my own fucking emotions, getting stupid panic attacks over stupid things.

I’m so annoyed with myself. I’m such a burden and there’re too many problems that come with dealing with me. I don’t know how other people could stand me when I can’t even stand myself.