There are times when I wish that there was a small part of me that was tweaked just enough that I could enjoy being around groups of people. Times like tonight when I have a dining room full of friends playing poker and I am sitting alone in the corner of my living room writing this. I like all of the people that are here. In fact, a good chunk of them are my closest friends, but I am still writhing in agony within the confines of my head. What is happening to me? I’ve never liked huge groups, but it seems that this phobia is getting increasingly worse with every passing year. I have always been insecure, but lately I am finding that I would rather be involved in my own little world and wrapped up in my own fantasy than have to participate in real life. I am actually beginning to become a little concerned. I’m afraid of becoming one of those people that is too afraid to leave their own home to enjoy life. What happens when my kids get involved in sports and I can’t handle taking them because I don’t want to interact with the other parents? I don’t understand why it is so hard for me to… exist? No. I like existence; that isn’t it. Who knows. Not me. I’m going to go read a book, something factual.