i wasn’t paying attention


the meta boxer. the samurai. the conquerer of synapse and addiction. afraid of a few lawyers. hah. i wasn’t looking, i wasn’t paying attention and it happened.

not much of an occurrence. not much of an omission. just an office barbecue. for the unit, at my boss’s house. so what. so i didn’t go. the world will not end. it did not, in fact, end. i received a couple where were you’s, but overall, who cares. i missed a barbecue.

it’s not that i missed something fun. it’s not my style, but it probably would have been a good time. but no, it’s not the fact that i missed a good time.

it’s the reason that irks me.

i have been humming along, walking the streets of my cohabitation within this skull. i have been struggling with the book, but overall i have been living a productive and sane life. no, i have been happy and whole. the depression is fading, and i am coming out of it with minimal losses.

until thursday.

i thought it was a ghost. a thing of my past. but i see now that my social anxiety still lives. box as i might, with shifty positional defensive patterns and blind samurai leaps into the fray, i am still disabled.


i was afraid. of the socialization. of the interaction outside of the bounds of the office. the installed, fabricated inferiority complex kicked in. it’s there for a reason, but right now it’s all the wrong reasons. what if i had one too many drinks and the real boss came out? what if slurs of the subtleties of situational dynamics came out in full force?

what if.

“what if” is the enemy of life. it is the fear talking. i have such an abhorrent taste in my mouth at the leaking of anything close to my actual personality, for fear that it might be rejected. as a result, i am mistrewn as the strong and silent weird type, i would imagine.

“for fear of.”


i am the meta boxer, and yet i am fearful of a hamburger dispenser. this social anxiety is a tricky opponent. i wasn’t paying attention. i simply just was not on my toes. it snuck up on me and now i have regret. i do not regret missing a good time. there are always good times.

it’s the reason.

and for that, i must redouble my efforts. i must always be on my toes. there are a million reasons not to go to a barbecue. god help me if i ever use that one again.