I know I’m not the most social person on this Earth. I don’t know how to make conversations. I don’t know how to express myself apart from writing. Actually talking to people orally scares me. Yes, it frightens the living daylights out of me.
I stammer a lot more than I used to think a year ago. I don’t know if I do that under pressure, or I’m excited or god knows when. I just stammer, and it’s getting way, way out of control.
I’ve always been teased about it, especially in middle school, the part of my schooling I’d like to erase from my memory. More often than not, I laugh with them as well. Because I know that they don’t actually mean those stinging words. Teasing me about my stammering, I can handle. But when people started making fun of me for it, and meaning each and every word, it hurt.
It’s stupid, isn’t it? I don’t care what anybody says or thinks. I’m in my own bubble of books, music, and in the company of selected friends. Baaki sab jaye ghaans charne (Everything else can go to the deepest pit of hell.) Then why is this bothering me now? Nothing else about me bother me. I’m fat, I’m lazy, I’m an average student, I’m not good at any one particular thing. None of these things bothers me, but my stammering does. I don’t know why, it makes me feel like I’m such a…loser. It’s like, come on! Can’t you speak one sentence without stammering at least twice? It takes repeating attempts to speak a simple word as “Please”, at times.
It doesn’t happen when I’m talking to myself (Yeah, I do that), or when I’m speaking in front of a crowd (Have hosted school events to know that public doesn’t scare me) or when…no, I’m done. Those two are the only situations when I’m able to speak without irritating everyone, including myself. I stammer while talking to my friends, my family…everyone. It’s not like any one person scares me. It’s the idea of making a conversation, and then ending up making a fool out of myself that scares me. So, I avoid speaking at all, as much as I can. I read, I write and I avoid actually speaking. Because after being made fun of, I don’t think I want to relive those moments, ever.
Seriously, is every defect known to man somehow stuffed into me?