I for ingrained, interviews.

In response to the a to z challenge

Terror is ingrained. A strange sort of fear, of people, of interactions and of other peoples opinions.
The very thought of having to submit myself to someone’s scrutiny, for an interview or an offer- to give someone the power to redeem or reject me is an unnamed monster under my bed.

I am incapable of performing on demand. The only times I have put up a decent show under pressure, I have finished it with a sense of wide-eyed wonder, half-surprised that I actually managed to pull it off.

Most of the time I go about the world, perfectly sure I’m going to trip, fall, fail or make a mess out of the situation. The times I do, I’m not the least bit surprised. The times I don’t, I am sure I’m just delusional.

I am not sure how much modern technology has contributed to it, I am not sure if it is inborn, but I do know it is deep in my bones, being regenerated everyday as diligently as my blood-cells.

This fear is perhaps why I don’t consider, or care about dating, relationships and whatever the hell people my age do on facebook. The idea of giving someone the power to like or reject me, based on what I say or how I look scares me more than boogie man.

On being called upon to perform, I switch my mind off, and deliver a half-hearted display, one that I hope looks like indifference towards their judgement, but ends up looking like a half-twisted grimace.

This indelible fear of people, of having to rely on their goodwill, of having to morph myself according to what they expect of me, leaves me cold and wishing for a blanket and the tangles of emotions that jump out of my books and into my skin.

So I accept loneliness, mediocrity and shadows, out of fear of rejection, antipathy or worse apathy towards me, and every word that leaves my mouth.

That is it. My ingrained fear.

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