<p>I just wrote a rough, rough, draft of my essay, and I was wondering if you guys could take a look at it. Its in the works, but I just wanted to know if its total crap, cause then I'm going to chuck it :).</p>
<p>My mother first realized the severe degree of my shyness when she chuckled after seeing a speck of chocolate ice cream on the tip of my nose. Even at four years old, I was instinctively aware of everyones laughter towards my general direction, and, though the not-so-well-hidden smiles were innocent, I could feel fat, hot teardrops sliding down my chubby cheeks at a morbidly slow pace. With my eyelashes sticking together and through the blurred vision, I did what everyone would do- I cried and sought my mama.</p>
<p>From that point forward, I was terribly self-conscious. </p>
<p>First days of school were nightmares for me. I, with my brown paper lunch bag and my three sharpened pencils, would sit at my desk quietly, while silently praying that someone, anyone, would come and talk to me. During chorus, Id slide in behind the tall one who had already experienced his growth spurt, hoping to be inconspicuous. My face was either pale-white or horribly flushed during my piano recitals, where I was forced to wear bright taffeta dresses that poofed from here to Wisconsin. My hands were dead-giveaways of my discomfort. I couldnt control those sneaky fingers, for theyd curl up, consol one another, and my hands would somehow always find their way into my pockets. So Id walk around, with a jumpy, nervous look upon my face and with my hands permanently glued into the insides of my high water jeans. Ill wander the world inconspicuously, I was determined, and no one will even notice that Im here.</p>
<p>I cant point to a specific time in my life when I suddenly became overwhelmingly outgoing. And thats because, I dont think I really ever got over my shyness. I still have that part of me that wants to curl away when approached by someone new, that part of me that cant help wishing, that I were invisible. </p>
<p>There are just times in life when you step back and evaluate yourself. Yes, I understand it sounds corny, clichéd, and like I copied it out of a Chinese fortune cookie, but theres no other way to describe the feeling. A realization comes upon you, and you wonder incredulously, why you had let this anxiety hold you back for so long. My shyness was incredibly egocentric: self-consciousness placed too much emphasis on me, not enough on others. Worrying about my clothes and hair, how I behaved, and what others thought of me, never gave me the chance to look around and notice the amazing people around me. And when I saw how much I had been missing out, I pushed my shyness into a coffee can, ran a car over that coffee can, compressed it with compressor-machine-thingy, and in the end, made a stylish little bobble for a necklace.</p>
<p>I still carry my shy little me around, and I dont believe it will ever go away. Its instinctive, and its what I crave, just like I crave three billion chocolate bars every single morning for some bizarre reason. However, just because one has a slight imperfection, doesnt mean that it controls ones life. Overcoming shyness is like getting on a thousand roller coasters. I hate roller coasters: I get queasy, nauseous, I sweat profusely as the car is clicking its way up the track, and occasionally, if I ever catch a glimpse at the obscene height at which Im at, I yell profanities (which is usually accompanied by the phrase: I want my mommy). But I go on those coasters anyways, because, even though I still get scared, even though I still get queasy, and even though I sweat in places that I didnt know existed, its still an exhilarating thrill that is worth it.</p>
<p>Life is an exhilarating thrill thats worth it. And I dont intend to miss a single moment.</p>