I shake as I stand.

Numb is my body. 

My mind. 

Nothing. But black & white thoughts.

The solid pit in my chest feels as though it will cover my body as that of vines.

I am not shy.

Never really have been. 

The pit has been there since days of no memory.

I am not shy.

Fake it till you make it they say. 

Never thought I could make it.

There is a bottle. 

It captures voice.

Releases black but no white.

I am not shy.

Feelings are welcome but voice is not there.

The bottle. The cork. Unmovable.

Unbreakable. Ever-catching. Ever-lasting.

Yet it cracks little by little each week.

Soon to be free. But never really there.

Wings are things I cannot afford.

I cannot fly away. Cannot escape anymore.

I am not shy.

Feel as if I cannot be myself.

Judgement fills this mind of black & white.

I wanted to be someone else.

I am shy no more.

I will not hide.

This journey will be a long one.

I am not shy.

Legs shake without my permission.

I am nervous.