Guten tag, my name is Sophie. What you are currently reading is a story based on my not-so-fantastic life. I hope you're enjoying the generic intro so far. If so, do keep reading because i can promise you now that the quality is going to remain this awful for the rest of the book. However, if you dislike it, i would recommend that you go fuck yourself because i'm trying my best, dammit.
If you look up my name in the dictionary, i'm 101% sure that the definition will be 'A bit of a fuck up.' Either that, or 'A waste of space, just a piece of shit in general.' If, upon looking my name up in a dictionary you discover that the definition isn't either of those things, I suggest you see to it that you get your money back. No one wants an incorrect dictionary. I hope that by now you're starting to understand how low my opinion of myself is. Hint: It's pretty low. Lower than my intelligence; lower than my love for vegetables. I pretty much hate everything about me. My appearance, the way i act in front of other people, everything. Fasten your seat belts, folks. Shit's about to get real.
Social anxiety is an anxiety disorder in which you have an excessive and unreasonable fear of social situations. Anxiety and self-consciousness come from a fear of being watched, judged, and criticized by other people. So those of you who think that social anxiety is just an excuse for not leaving the house, kindly go choke on a dick. Just wanted to get that out of the way...
My morning consists of me rolling out of bed, dragging myself into the bathroom, glancing in the mirror and muttering "Why am i so ugly?", or something along those lines, before slapping a shit ton of make-up on. I won't go into great detail about everything i hate about my appearance as you'll probably get bored of reading about my self-loathing after about a minute. I need about a million minutes. Let's just say that if i was a vegetable, i'd be a celeriac. Don't know what that is? Look it up, big boy. In all honesty, i didn't know what it was until a few months ago when, at work, the chef told me to go get a celeriac from the fridge. I asked what it was and he replied simply with "Just bring the ugliest vegetable you can find." Alas, i digress. I'm assuming that no one wants to hear me complain about my ugly. I just wanted to throw that in there because one of the main reasons i lack confidence is because of my appearance. So, i'm assuming that has something to do with why i'm so pathetic in public.
So, hopefully now you're beginning to see how self loathing ties in with social anxiety. The following chapters are based very closely to to true stories. Some people might relate to them, others might hate it and leave a comment saying "ur storre sux!!11" Either way, I care. Other people probably would have said that they don't care, but I do. I care way too much about everything. The worst part is, there's nothing i can do about it. A woman in Costa gives you a funny look? I care. I feel uneasy in everything I do until I leave just because one person may not have liked something i said or did. I wish more than anything that I could just think to myself "lol what are you looking at, hoe?" But I can't. No matter how hard I try, no matter how many times I think to myself that i'm probably never going to see that woman ever again, and she doesn't affect my life in any way what-so-ever, I'll always care. I'll always lie awake at night, just thinking about everything. My mind is restless.
