Prove Me Wrong

Eleanor Jones I, Eleanor Jones, have social anxiety. Life is what everyone presumes to be perfect. We like to think that it's supposed to be in uniform motion. But it's not. And that's the truth. But most truths hurt for it to be accepted. One of the truths I'm afraid to accept most of the time is that I may or may not be having social anxiety. I mean, wearing hoodies and sunglasses all the time and plugging in headphone whether music is playing or not just to avoid conversation doesn't mean I'm socially anxious. Okay, maybe I am socially anxious. Conversations make me stutter with embarrassment. Staying silent is my forté. I would become so silent that sometimes I would hear my parents muttering in their room, wondering if I have turned into a Buddhist monk. And to be honest, a part of me did not find it hard to believe. Every day I'm being awoken to a challenge. A challenge to visit a public place. School. I don't hate school. It's too much of a strong word. I need a stronger word. My heart leaps to the sky every time I hear the teacher call out my name, I hear my own heart thundering inside of me. My entire body on the inside starts to feel like a calamity struck. But what people usually see is a five-foot-two girl, wearing a long-sleeved hoodie at a melting 109.4 temperature, staying oddly silent as 64 eyeballs stare at her, waiting for the weirdo to answer the question at hand. That's usually how it goes, but I do submit my assignments on time and pay attention. I just don't prefer to answer in class. I'm the type of girl where, if I were given the question of ‘If you had the choice to save a book and a human which one would it be?’. Even before the quiz master finishes his question I would yell, "Obviously the book, you nincompoop!" Because come on, books are more superior than humans. But, me being me, wouldn't dare even to answer the question. That's me. A mess. A very self-conscious mess. I sit on the bench in the park, careful to check if there are any gums stuck on it before I sat to watch the sunset. I made sure to take the bench located in the far corner of the park. Away from everyone. But I was still able to hear the muffled cries of children playing and running. It’s what kept me from dreaming away into my world. Watching the sun go down is so radiant and almost therapeutic. The purple, the blues and the pink mix in an artistic radiant way. The colours you would never expect to go in sync, prove you wrong. It warms my heart when the brightest light in everyone's life, bids goodbye. And I'm there to bid it too. Until darkness swallows me whole, leaving my flaws naked to the world outside. As I sat down, I felt a presence next to me. I snap my head towards my right and see a fair boy with brunette ruffled hair wearing a slightly crumpled blue and white uniform of a private school. He gazes ahead, to the sun. All I can see is his sharp jaw and his distinct cheekbones that seemed even more clear when shadows fell at the correct angle. His fair skin dazzled with the amalgamation of the beautiful sky. I quickly gaze ahead, gulping silently. My mind gets all vague. The first instinct my brain screamed was "GET UP! IT'S A HUMAN GODDAMIT ELEANOR! LEAVE!" I sit for some more time so I wouldn't be rude. After a few seconds with a racing heart, I stand up grabbing my bag, ready to move to a lonely bench and realised that would be rude too, so I decided to miss the sunset for today and go home. However, the stranger had other plans. "Excuse me, I'm so sorry if you are leaving because I sat here. I just saw a bunch of troubled guys coming your way. I wanted to sit here before they leave. " His silvery yet melodious voice aroused a funny tingle in my body. I turn my eyes to the direction to where he was staring and see a tiny gang of boys wearing the same uniform as him, but were standing at a distant, leaving the park. A minute or so passed by, and I felt a gaze on me. I realized then I needed to speak something. Oh, fish. Speak speak speak. Uh, what do I say? Okay, wait. CALM DOWN! CALM? WHAT'S THAT? I look over to the stranger and observed he was no older than me fro he didn’t have grey hairs and had a premature face. His skin held no signs of acne. He had a tempest of grey eyes which looked almost clear as the light rays hit him. His forehead was slightly covered by the few strands of his brunette hair. He was decent looking, and that just made my heart race again. Decent or not, as long as it had four limbs and could speak, my heart will try to achieve as many heartbeats as possible in a second. He sat erect, almost proud. He looked at me expectantly as if to hear a response from me. I discreetly gulp out of panic because I took a whole minute to think what I had to say, but wasted it on observing him. So I spoke the first thing that came to my mind, "To tell zebra's apart, look at their butt." I blurt and abruptly my face burned with red. I just wanted the ground to swallow me whole. I could do it myself actually, just hand me the shovel, please. I expected him to send a face of disgust and an expression that would say ‘weirdo.’ Maybe at some point, I would be happy if he leaves me alone if he thought I was a weirdo. But his face contorted into a crinkle of confusion as amusement danced in his eyes. But hey, it is a fact. "I will keep that in mind in case I buy two zebras for a pet." His sarcasm didn't spike rudeness, but in its place, held hilarity. "Thank you." His pink lips curved slightly upwards as his eyes twinkled with mirth. A part of me wanted to let out an exhale of relief but then about 80% of me was still standing like a statue. A statue in panic. A statue in panic for no reason. I avoided his eyes and spoke looking at anything but him, "I-I mean...." I take a deep breath and exhale, "Thank you. I-I have to go. Sorry." I muttered the last word in a hurry as I quickly stepped away from the bench and speed-walked home without looking back. I wanted to run but then the worst scenarios of where I would trip and fall in front of the public (especially the cute guy) and they would laugh at me. The hypothetical scenario haunts me throughout my journey to my home. At least fear is on my side.