The Anthology Of My Misery

The Paradox of F.O.M.O

I should've just gone to the stupid party. Why am I always like this. I said I wasn't going, but I could have. I didn't because I thought I'd feel awkward. Like I always do. It kills me. My social anxiety swallows me whole like I'm nothing but a sweet little cookie.  It picks me up like I'm a small m&m. It chews me with one or two bites and I'm dead.  I know I'm dramatic.  But I could never help how I felt.  It's like having an allergic reaction to the tiniest thing. I just can't breathe.  I feel like my heart stops.  Like I'm just floating away.  But that's what they don't see. It's a small thing right?  And that's why I don't tell anyone. For fear of them judging me.  How they might overlook my deep seeded insecurity by saying I'm being a drama queen. And how can I argue with that?  I agree, it's a small issue. That's why I hate how it bothers me so much. I didn't go to the party just because I was afraid of being left out. Like I was going to be the only one who didn't have that friend they're always talking to. And I don't know anymore, truly. I just don't get it anymore. I was happy for 3 months and this stupid little issue sets me off.  Makes me think so much I feel like my brain is going to shut down. Why did i just miss out on the slight chance that I could actually become closer with these people?

It's ironic. I'm moping around because now I know I should've just gone. I see their posts, I see their smiles. All the fun times I could've been a part of. But I chose not to. All because of what. Fear of being alone. Well I'm definitely alone now. Like I'm dying inside so the last bit of adrenaline makes me type out all these words. How can I eat. How can I sleep. I even forget to breather for a moment. I'm dying. Funny cuz I'm only doing this to myself. My over thinking is a serial killer. And I'm my own victim. I wanna close my eyes but I don't know when they'll open.

Next time. There's always next time. But am I just going to make the same mistake. I don't know if I should go to therapy,  or just talk to my friends or my mom,  but that doesn't even matter. That won't change things. Only I can change it but I'm too busy dying. Even if I did see a therapist,  what if they say every child goes through this. How is that going to help me? I'll just feel even worse about myself. On the other hand they could diagnose me with depression or anxiety. And what would that do to my mom?

Why didn't I just go to the stupid party?