bakapyrite (bakapyrite) wrote,

One night at the Junkyard

I had an urge to get a Spike's Junkyard Dog after lying in bed all day, so I went and got one. While I was there eating my Texas Bandit (BBQ, Cheddar, and Hot Peppers), sitting at the window on a stool, a girl pulls a stool up next to me, positioning it closer than it had been, and says "Hi". She asks my name, so I tell her, and hers is Jillian (I think?). Her friend comes out of the bathroom (Craig) and we all chat a little about Allston and such and then they leave after getting their dogs.

A long time ago I would have felt a crippling sense of dread in my gut and probably wouldn't have been able to talk much at all, aside from to acknowledge that they were attempting to talk to me. In fact, for maybe half a second that same feeling seemed to be lurking, but quickly dissapated. Now, I didn't get many interesting details from her, but the very fact that a girl would choose to talk to me is sort of like opening my eyes after having had them squeezed shut for a long time.

I sometimes despair that I lack the social skills to ever find a girl to fall in love with, but realistically I have to admit that I'm encasing myself in a protective, comforting shell, and then cursing the very barriers that I've erected for myself.

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