The daunting task

Dear social anxiety, I been thinking of you recently so I wanted to share a story with you I hope you enjoy

The wind howled at the door as the little girl put on her heavy jacket.

She feared the gusty wind would pick up her tiny body in its vicious path.  

She opened the door, reluctant to go outside, the place where her safety was lost, along with the hopes and dreams of the world.

Her steps were heavy as if they were being pulled down by weights--weights that were reluctant to let her free.

As she walked to her destination the thought weighed heavy on her head, “How will I work up this courage?”

Courage: the simple thing that everyone is supposed to have, simple to others, she thought.

As the young girl battled the wind, she finally made it to her destination.

She struggled to pull the heavy door, the door handle so high that her little hands could barely touch.

As she walked through the door, it slammed behind her. Her fears hidden, lurking behind her telling her she won’t be able to do this.

When she walked through the doors the warm air smacked the young girl in the face, jerking her to run behind the person in front of her.

The room filled with unfamiliar faces greeting her with judgmental eyes.

Looking deep beneath her, as if they knew all of her doubts.

The line felt as though it was endless.

The girl followed the line as one went up after the other until it was her turn to go.

Her feet were stones. The teller called, “Next” and the girl didn’t move.

She only moved when her fears pushed her to the front, smacking her into the counter.

The teller felt as though they were a tower and the girl felt small.

“How can I help you Miss?”

The girl forgot the line she practiced in her head. The words jumbled into one unrecognizable sentence.

The teller to asked the young girl to repeat herself.

After enough time the girl forced the words out.

May I please have a medium french vanilla ice coffee?

Sincerely, Trin

Thank you for all the irrational fears.