????????????????????????????????? I created this whole other world inside my head, but physically I’m not allowed to be there. Isn’t that weird? I make this whole seperate universe, and I can’t even visit it.
Now, obviously I can’t REALLY go there. Don’t worry, I’m not completely crazy. But from what I understand, fantasies are the visions that a person has when they are imagining themselves in a certain situation. I don’t know what kind of fantasies other people are having, but mine are pretty harmless. They’re pretty science fiction, actually. Or so not-gonna-happen that I can’t even think about them or I convince myself that they might actually come true. (I once worked myself into thinking that a certain male celebrity really would show up randomly in my town and hang out with us all day. This happened years ago, of course. I don’t tell myself things like that anymore.) But in any case, I can’t let my imagination run away with me. No, really. I can’t picture myself doing amazing things because I might start to actually believe it.
But I’m not depressed or anything. I’m a relatively happy person who leads a relatively normal life. I just have such a powerful piece of mind sometimes that if I think about something too hard, I start to think it will actually happen. Like the celebrity thing.
But another reason I sub live through a world in my head is that I’m a pretty shy person. So I go crazy now and then with my friends, but that’s with my friends. And a person has to be my friend before they can actually get to know me, and who wants to be friends with someone they don’t know? Well, apparently a fair amount of people haven’t minded so far. I’m not what you would call friendless- and the friends I have, I like. So that’s good. But in high school, people don’t have as much time to be your friend before they ?????????can get to know you and then decide if they like you. It’s pretty much a one shot deal. First impressions count. And I’ve never really been big on first impressions. Actually, I prefer not to make them at all. I don’t really talk to many people if I don’t know them, or if they don’t talk first.
I’ve been able to deal with that for a long time. I mean, twelve years I’ve been in the same school district, and my being shy has never bothered me or anyone else. But lately, I’ve wanted to really break out of my shell. People are always surprised to hear me talk- pleasantly surprised, usually, since I’m not one to go insulting people. So perhaps if I try talking to people first, I’ll make more friends. And meet more people. And then I won’t have to worry about switching classes, leaving high school, and going to college. Because by that point, I would be comfortable with talking to random people about random things. At least, I hope so.
???But as Harriet would tell me, these things don’t happen overnight.
????Harriet was my best friend. One of, anyway. We were both active writers- and both obsessed with Lord of the Rings. I always knew I could talk to Harriet, because we had the exact same kind of mind.
The random kind.
?????? Sometimes, if people thought I was a nice person before they had to get to be my friend and learn to know me, they became my friend by default and it all worked out pretty well. That was more or less how I met Harriet.
Flashback to tenth grade! Imagine the second week of school, more or less. People are just getting into their daily routines, getting used to the paths they take to each class and making new friends to last at least the marking period. Well, not me. I was still getting used to my classes. I knew some of the people from my middle school- a face here, a face there. None of my close friends were in any of my classes, so I resorted to being the hermit in the back of the room. Middle of the room. It depended on the class…but that’s not the point.
Harriet was in both my year-long English class and my Creative Writing elective class. I had recognized her in both, but since I didn’t know her, I didn’t say anything. Our English teacher, having asked us all to write personal narratives about ourselves, paired everyone off to edit and discuss with each other. I still don’t know why- maybe because we were both writers, maybe because Harriet was kind of quiet at first too- but we were paired together. I was shy about letting a stranger read my personal narrative. It was nothing really personal or embarrassing, but since my writing is like my way of talking freely, most people wouldn’t connect my personal narratives to me. But Harriet understood me right away.
“ Now I know why you don’t talk in class.” She had said of my written explanation for my shyness. “I know what you mean.”
Because what if nobody understands your sarcasm, or gets the jokes, or if they can’t relate at all to what you’ve said? What if they make snide remarks, about what I’ve said or how I look? What if they’re mean, or rude, or they laugh me out of school? What if I’m wrong, and the teachers yell at me? Or worse, I just make myself look incredibly stupid and everyone hates me?
I spent too much time looking on the negative side of possible outcomes. It never occurred to me people might actually relate to what I had to say, or would laugh in a good way, or that the teacher would agree.
Harriet worried about that stuff too. I already told you, we had the exact same kind of mind. The difference was, Harriet didn’t let it stop her.
Within a week, Harriet and I were close friends. She made sure to include me in group activities, understanding I was too quiet to find my own group, preferring to work alone than beg to be in someone’s group. We found a lot of common ground, between us both loving writing and reading, being in two of the same classes, having the same reactions to the confusing short stories we were forced to read.
No shy English student ever had a better group than one that Harriet was in.
