Essence

Shyness

Shyness

Shyness is reserved. She doesn't know how to tell her friends she loves their company, but is too afraid to join in the conversation. She observes their loud laughter and playful shrieks, wishing she could join in fully. Shyness walks to class with her head down, the hallway tiles all too familiar. She sits in the corner of the room, watching other students talk to one another. When the boy next to her asks to borrow a pencil, she takes one out and gives it to him without ever looking at his face. Shyness doesn't want to speak in class. She bites her fingernails until they bleed, perpetually afraid that the teacher will call on her. When the teacher does, Shyness sinks into her seat. Her throat dries up, and she shakes her head no. She doesn't know the answer because she never heard the question. On buses, she tucks her knees under her chin so that she won't accidentally brush knees with strangers. She stares out the window, her headphones emitting soft music, her eyes glazed over. A girl sneezes, and Shyness wants nothing more than to say “bless you.” She thinks it instead, and hopes that that is enough. The bus drops her off, she walks a short distance home, and breathes a sigh of relief. Here, in her home, she doesn't have to worry about blushing red from embarrassment or speaking to strangers. She can be herself completely. She watches the neighbors play with their friends, and sighs longingly. The difference between Shyness and her sister Anxiety is that Shyness remains hopeful that someone someday will bring her out of her shell.