Growing up Socially Awkward

Ch. One - Part 1

September 

"A blank stare is what most people get from me; it is my #1 reaction to anything and everything. Whether it be a greeting, question, or joke, my initial response will be to stare. Because of this, I only have very few friends. I only spend a little time around the ones I do have due to my poor social skills. Every time I get asked to hang out, I have the same gut reaction one would have standing in front of a hungry lion. Given the options of fight or flight, I always choose flight. Confrontation and communication are my two greatest downfalls. My name is Keeley Moore, and I am socially awkward. Born in 2005, I am now a high school senior and have done nothing to advance my social standing since the 6th grade. Elementary school was a blissful time of innocence and naivety. Once I began middle school, something clicked in my brain, like a fuse blowing or a light switching on. From then on, I could not communicate properly, Not with teachers, other people my age, or anyone..."

Keeley closed her laptop and leaned back in her desk chair. "Like a college admissions officer would want to read some trauma dump." She huffed, spinning her chair to face the wall her bed sat against. Keeley's bedroom was small, practically the size of an average college dorm room. It consisted of a desk, bed, mirror mounted to the wall, a dresser, and a single window; Keeley's only source of light in her room other than a lamp on her desk. Under her bed were three pull-out drawers, the first with perfectly folded t-shirts and leggings. The second was filled with sports bras and underwear. The third and final drawer was filled with novels and journals. Keeley may be unable to communicate with her words, but she can with a pencil. Whenever she doesnt know what to say, she writes a poem to express herself. She kept her poems locked away; it was better for her to be the only one who read them. Keeley stood up from her chair and flopped face-first onto her bed with a grunt.

"Keeley! Dinner!" Her mom called from down the hall. She swiped her face off her covers and faced her bedroom door, "Coming, mom!" she yelled in response, sounding agitated. "Watch your tone, Keeley!" Her mom shouted back. Keeley groaned; once again, she had messed up; she would never get tones right. She lifted herself off her bed and hobbled sleepily out of her room and down the hall.