I am painfully shy.
I have never found the reason for this and do not hope to do so in the near future, but I do feel as if it is a disease of some sort. It only strikes when I wish it gone the most - I say this only after having "talked" with him yet again. For, those who know me very, very well, presumably all of my life, would not even begin to muse the word "shy" in my description. But, bring him into a room, and I instinctively wrap myself into the smallest of personal bubbles and sit in the darkest corner, hoping furiously that he will, by some miracle, notice me. I have never had a problem talking with my closest friends - I have been known to blabber on the phone for hours on end about absolutely nothing - like any normal teenage girl. And, usually, at any social event, I can amuse myself with small talk, or even a good antidote if necessary. But, when he talks to me, my mind goes blank and I find myself wishing futilely that my soul and I could journey to another, more presentable sort of body. I can think of nothing intelligent to say, nothing to offer as advice, nothing humorous to say or do, only of the color of his eyes and of his smell. Which, when pondered, only serve to complicate things further. He once, in response to one of my many mumbled sentences, asked me why I was so shy. And I really had no answer. For, how can one say "Because your eyes are speaking too loudly?"