I should preface this with the fact that I've had 5 cups of coffee and have only been up for an hour and a half and have no plans to make sense or organize this logically so reading it might make your brain implode but really you should just be grateful that you aren't stuck living in mine.

So recently I was babbling incoherently on Twitter, probably about dinosaurs and capes (dinosaurs would look so cute in capes. Someone make that happen), and somehow in one of those strange, fucked up conversations that only happen on Twitter, declared myself a superhero.  Superheroine? I don't know. Anyway, I get to wear a cape and a totally flattering glittery leotard. Except leotards are inherently unflattering so I'm going to stick with jeans and a t-shirt.

My superhero name? Awkward Girl. Able to avoid conversations by tripping over my own cape while staring at the ground and mumbling. I am horrible at talking to people. Online I'm okay, because I get to write everything out and that gives me the time I need to add some semblance of organization to my thoughts, but in real life I tend to just freeze like a deer in the headlights. That's how I earned the nickname “Bambi” forever ago. It sounds like a stripper name, but I'm like 80% sure that strippers don't just stand very still and cry until everyone goes away.

But yeah. I can talk to people online, but if I actually run into them in person I panic and pretend to text until they conclude that I'm doing so to ignore them and that I'm a giant bitch. Having people hate me is still preferable to my brain's tendency to make me blurt out things like “please don't hurt me” in what should be a casual conversation about the logistics of tortoise sex. If that's not your idea of casual conversation we probably aren't going to be best friends any time soon. Enjoy your sanity; I hear it's lovely this time of year.

To be fair, I have an actual legitimate excuse for being awkward. It's called social anxiety disorder, and I'm pretty sure that's a term my shrink made up because it's not nice to tell patients that their brains are just wired ass-backwards. Basically I overthink everything in any kind of social situation and panic. And I mean any kind of social situation. I cannot go to the grocery store without having a panic attack about the appropriate amount of eye contact to make with strangers. I used to find this hugely embarrassing, but at this point all I can really do is laugh at myself.

Yesterday some random guy on the cereal aisle said hi to me, and I carefully avoided him for the rest of the time because holy shit that was terrifying. And by “carefully avoided” I mean “blatantly dove behind an Oreos display and fell into some startled old lady's motorized shopping cart basket.” So then I had two people to avoid, one of whom was pissed and had the combined strength of senility and .6 horsepower. I don't think that last figure is right, both because the website I got it from uses glitter text and because I'm pretty sure that .6 of a horse has no power, because it's fucking dead, but just go with it.

Oh wow. I had to google how much horsepower a motorized shopping cart has, but I accidentally typed “cat” instead of cart. I don't even know what a motorized shopping cat is, but I want one. Especially if it will go buy my groceries for me so that I never have to leave my apartment again. That would be super.

Returning to my original “I can act like a mental patient in literally any vaguely social scenario” point, I can't even function normally with the blinds open in my apartment. I have giant glass doors that look out on the parking lot, and since sunlight seems to help with my depression (yes, I'm a delightful bundle of mental disorders, but I get away with it because I'm fucking adorable), I try to keep them open during all daylight hours. The problem is, there are usually people in the parking lot. So when I'm home during the day, I'm constantly trying to act natural. In my own damn living room. Act natural, or they're going to think you're weird. You are weird.  They don't know that yet. No, but they will soon enough. NOT IF YOU ACT NATURAL. And then I forget how to walk. I mean I know how it works, but I have to consciously figure out how to put one foot in front of the other.

It's usually around then that I glance outside and see someone peering in to see if anyone will notice them if they pee in my bushes. Oddly enough me being home or even sitting on my patio is not enough to stop some people from doing so.

Anyway, that leads to an awkward moment of eye contact that invariably leaves me frozen in fear, balancing on one foot and too terrified to look away. Combine that with the confusion and curiosity from the friendly parking lot observer, and you've got a 5-minute long staring contest that everyone desperately wants to get away from. And of course, being awkward-prone, I will run into that person later and freeze in the hallway while they say hello and try to figure out what kind of insane I am and I ignore them and hope they go away. But they don't because I'm standing between them and their door. Because I'm that incredibly awkward-prone.