Like that phlegm, you can’t get up. My words are stuck in my throat.

Am I invisible to these people? Perhaps I am.

I feel like a pedestrian trying to cross a highway.

When I try to jump into the conversation, another person beats me to it.

“Why are you so quiet?” Comes that dreaded question.

“I’m not.” At least not in my mind. “I just don’t know what to say?”

Why do I have to be so suffocatingly awkward?