Strangers

In my time I’ve mentally downplayed how well I know certain people. I like to think I’m an open book as far as my thoughts go, but I’m not great at judging the level of friendship I have with particular people.

I mention this because I frequently feel this deficiency both when writing relationships and when simply trying to live my life. Call it autism if you like, because I certainly have been diagnosed. Call it simple social ineptitude and you wouldn’t be far off either.

The term doesn’t really matter as much as the effort I put in to doing better.

I can’t let myself feel as awkward as I briefly did during a trip to the movie theater to see the wonderful Guardians of the Galaxy. In all ways, feeling unhappy at being around so many people I didn’t know makes no sense.

Even when I took my seat I had a moment when I though how annoying it would be if someone wouldn’t stop talking during the movie. It didn’t happen, and only rarely has in my life of going to movies. Why did I worry?

I think I worried because I’ve grown used to worrying about everything. Most of my worries are baseless, but I have seen how bad social screw ups can be, because I made tons of them as a kid. Even more of them as a teenager. And plenty as a young man.

I’ve never been good at it. So the pressure is on when I interact with strangers, the simple pressure not to be rude and jerky. It’s an endless struggle for me, right up there with self-confidence in my writing.

Speaking of… I think I have a few minutes to get back to the book.

Hope you all have a good day!

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