How do you do?
It's very nice to meet you!
I am the speechless nineteen year old.
For the past seven years, I have been terrified of death, judgement, rejection, failure, zombies, infection... You get the idea.
I'm so scared, I can't even bring myself to speak. I can type just fine... Virtual interaction is fine. Kind of... removed.
Computers... What would I do without them?
Only people I know and trust get to see the real me. And as you can imagine, being as wussy as I am, this usually takes a while.
Usually, about the time I start doing impressions. That's when you know that I'm myself. Because I do actually do that... Honestly!
Leaping into friendships isn't really my thing. And this may well come across as disinterest or whatever...
Don't get that impression! I beg you!
That's not me not caring... That's me with trust issues trembling in your petrifying presence!
Really, I do want to get to know you... It might just take a few weeks of contact. Unfortunately for us both.
Yeah, I can cope online. Yeah, you seem nice enough. But I'm like... A timid turtle. Or pangolin. Whichever.
At first, I'll be in my shell/curled up in a ball, protecting myself from any potential threats.
Get to know me a bit, and I might peek my little head out/uncurl a small amount and be slightly more Murray.
And if you prove that you're not going to eat me, I might put my head out fully and eat a leaf/uncurl fully and climb a tree.
I wish I was a housecat... Easy to get along with, instantly likeable, happy to have my hair stroked... But...
No. I'm sorry, but not all animals are housetrained.
REMAIN INDOORS