Hi, My Name is Sarah

No one looked at her. She was glad. She sometimes wished that she could simply disappear. Not be stared at. Not be pitied for being so alone. Simply left alone. Why couldn't anyone understand? She enjoyed watching and listening to others, but when they started looking at her, and taking an interest in her life, she clammed up. She really couldn't help it though, because it felt very natural to simply watch and observe. When she was approached, her heart began to beat faster, her legs and hands began to tremble, she lost her breath, and she felt extremely nervous. It was almost as if someone had punched her in the stomach and she couldn't recover. Even when she saw someone alone, and thought of going over and introducing herself, the strange feeling came back. She knew that she ought to be more friendly, but she simply couldn't make herself get over that strange, uncontrollable fear.

This was me—Bibliophiliomaniac—so painfully shy that it hurt to talk to anyone other than family. But not anymore. Many who knew me then wouldn’t recognize me as the same girl with troubles finding the right words, searching for what she was supposed to say. I am much more joyful—less depressed. Much more talkative. And now I have to learn how to hold my words back—the words that never used to come at all. God has worked in my life as no-one and nothing could have. He has orchestrated happenings in my life in such a way that every day I want to long for him more—even though I can’t seem to get closer. Many interests crowd my life—a job, school, music, writing, reading, and, quite simply, life. But that desire—to love God—is what I want people to see in me more than any other trait. But too often, life gets in the way.