This is what social anxiety feels like. I finally drag myself out of my house, because and only because I believe that the event I am going for is super important. I stand and watch nervously as people interact. I take deep breaths and remind myself that I am quite the extrovert when I want to be. I summon the courage to talk to someone or someone summons the courage to talk to me. The conversation starts smoothly enough, I find out that the person is pretty impressive and then the person asks me “so what do you do?”. I panic, partly because I happen to have quite a long list of hobbies and also because I know that the real question the person asked is, “what do you do for a living?”. At this time I feel a drop of sweat slide between my butt cheeks. A chill numbs my tongue as I fight all the thoughts running berserk in my skull. Did I tell you that I am a pretty good actor? So I support my chin with my hand, run an errant finger through my beards and reply as Philosopher-like as possible “I find it hard to…” I cough, stealthily scrutinizing my voice for squeaks “... classify or define my self…” then I proceed to tell a short inspirational tale of my life. Oftentimes the person sees through my ruse and bold facedly proceeds to ask me what I do for a living and this time I awkwardly reply that I am a writer. So maybe I am not socially awkward, maybe I am just afraid of certain conversations. Why do I place so much value on being able to fit in a box? Why do I suddenly attach my self worth to how much I earn? Some times I ponder on the oxymoron that has become my life? I wonder why my ideals scare me. Why I suddenly want to fit in a box or why money has suddenly become synonymous with my self-worth. Maybe it is because I am getting older and I suddenly feel the need for stability. Maybe it is because the world feels a little heavier as the days pass. Maybe it is because of her and our dream. Maybe I didn't really believe in my ideals. Maybe.