If I lived in a Zoo

I hate it when people watch me.

This is my disclaimer: I would like to be seen, noticed. But never can I stand being stared at. I don't know why, but when I catch people staring at me, I find myself suddenly self-conscious and my clumsy self reaches new plays on klutziness.

Perhaps I was born nervous.

Despite my slight pet peeve, my very public job does not allow me to wallow in my fear of being watched. Being at this job for over two years, I don't notice the nerves as much, but every once in awhile, it gets to me. I can't explain what it is, but I feel trapped by their nonchalant, mostly non-judging eyes. And then I give them a reason to stare due to my penchant for dropping things and tripping over invisible holes in the ground.

Today was one of those days when I found myself in rare form. For reasons I can't explain other than there was nothing else to do, people kept watching me. And I, in return, kept spilling things. Dropping things. And yes, tripping.

I had no control over my already awkward body.

It was like I had become a monkey, seemingly flailing aimlessly about, and people were enjoying this haphazard show. And all I wanted to do was retreat to the back of the room (away from their superpower of sight) compose myself, and get back to my job...as a human.

I honestly can't tell you how it happened, but my bet was all those times I was forced to play the piano at every single party. I was made to perform, and I hated being commanded to perform. Everything was a show, and I was the...

Well...I wouldn't say monkey, because I actually played the piano very well. :-D

At any rate, that was my day at my very public job. I'll regroup and I'll be fine until the next time I feel like I'm living in a zoo.

Sigh...I hate it when people watch me. I'm already awkward enough.