Mayfly Narrative

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Halle PuteraProfessor AlexanderCreative Writing (ENG225)24 March 2018SymptomsI was eleven and it was mayfly season. Well, I don’t know if “mayfly” is the correct term. They looked like large, prehistoric mosquitoes; hideously annoying things, they would appear religiously every autumn. I don’t think anyone knew what they really were; it’s just what everyone called them: mayflies. But I digress.Gym class was held in gender segregated sections: the boys got flag football, baseball, and Mr. Lambright; while the girls were stuck with field hockey, softball, and mean, old Mrs. Ryder. She was a tough looking woman; high, blonde ponytail always pulled back in a painful looking tightness, a permanent frown etched into her middle-aged face, and a copious …show more content…

Though my hands were still sweaty, and my voice was still shaky, I fancied myself a movie star. At seventeen, I was rotten at public speaking. Whether it was ordering a coffee, or talking on the phone, I stuttered and shook and cringed. I had to rehearse most of my small, scripted interactions in the mirror before I left the house. Every interaction became an Easter party. Leaving the house was exhausting; my life in the outside world was a consistent stressor. It left me reeling, unstable. I suppose I was waiting to grow out of it. In school, conversations plagued me. I’d spend my waking moments asking why, why, why, and my nights cringing at all my past interactions: stupid, stupid, stupid. No matter how many times I practiced or how confident I was feeling, I’d always face their stares and panic. Palms sweaty, knees weak, arms heavy—but no vomit on my sweater that resembled mom’s spaghetti. Senior year, I was asked to speak in front of the school about “goals” (whatever that means); naturally, I almost wet my pants in front of the principal. Though my school was small (about one hundred kids to a grade), public speaking was still public speaking. He mentioned that he wanted some of the quieter kids to “have a chance to speak their mind.” I thought he shouldn’t get the chance to hear it. I skipped half of my second period class to practice in the bathroom. I had already sweat through my thick, …show more content…

Are you afraid they’ll notice your discomfort? Do you expect the worst possible consequence from a negative experience during a social situation?(I avoided eye contact) I guess, yeah.She wrote some things down on her clipboard. I wiped my palms again.She put her pen down with a decisive clack and crossed her legs. “Well, I certainly don’t think you’re depressed, you’re just one in ten.”I stared at the wall behind her. “What does that mean?”“Girly,” she chuckled, “you’ve got a bad case of social

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