When a military fires all of their ammunition, what comes next? A silence that's thick enough to choke on. There's a quiet, almost peaceful atmosphere around it- for a mere moment. Then, that army is torn to shreds by an artillery shell for being improperly equipped. After that, all that's left is the remains of a battle that will never see a mention in the history books.
That's what conversation feels like for me- like a doomed soldier in a war nobody else is fighting. My words are my ammunition, and when I'm empty, my throat burns like a spent barrel. I fire them at people who aren't even in the battle. I call it the 'spray and pray' approach; hopefully one person will hear something that I have to say and come converse with me.
It'd be easier if I was in somebody else's shoes. I rehearse sentences in my head before I say them. ''I like your hair'', ''I like your hair'', ''I like your hair''. When it's time to fire, it's like I haven't even loaded the magazine and I can't even produce the first sound; my tongue sits useless in my mouth- a jammed bullet in the chamber
Is it my fault? I rarely make conversation difficult, it's probably something wrong with everybody else on Earth. How could it be my fault? I follow every rule: smile for a few seconds (but not too wide), ask questions about what they have to say (but not too many), let them steer the conversation (even if that's away from me). I'm perfectly polite, so why do they still flinch? And if they refuse to see that, well, what else can I do?
Maybe they're right. Maybe I'm the problem. Maybe it's me. When I can't even order my own food at a restaurant, how can I be expected to uphold conversations with people?
There's always tomorrow to try again. Reload. Re-engage. Fire