Avoidant Personality Disorder:

1. avoids occupational activities that involve significant interpersonal contact, because of fears of criticism, disapproval, or rejection

2. is unwilling to get involved with people unless certain of being liked

3. shows restraint initiating intimate relationships because of the fear of being ashamed, ridiculed, or rejected due to severe low self-worth 

4. is preoccupied with being criticized or rejected in social situations 

5. is inhibited in new interpersonal situations because of feelings of inadequacy 

6. views self as socially inept, personally unappealing, or inferior to others 

7. is unusually reluctant to take personal risks or to engage in any new activities because they may prove embarrassing

Hello, My name is Alyssa and I have Avoidant Personality Disorder.

I would like to come home now.

You know something?

Me: What's that.

	In the English language, there's lots and lots of different ways to say a single thing, but there's one thing that really can't be worded in any more elegant, expository, or additive way. I miss you.

My words don't travel far, they tangle in my hair.

I dreamt about you last night, it was the only dream I've had in weeks where I didn't wake up in terror.

Coincidence? I think not, but you'll never know.

Everything I've ever wanted to tell you lingers in the cracks and crevices of my mouth.

I'm trying to be suitable, so that when you get back you'll want to do marvelous things together.

I was going to tell you about how New York has been, but I'd rather read.

You've got your new ties, I've got my old knots.

I am not unforgettable.

I am expendable.

But it's alright, really.

I'm putting all of my faith in the fact that New York will hopefully expunge all of those commiserating thoughts that bounce around in my head. I will come back revitalized, restored, fortified! Which may sound like a very expensive bottle of water, but it's something.

"So, where is your boyfriend tonight?"

                                               "Non- existent."

"Oh, why is that?"

"Boys and I don't mesh very well."

"Oh, you mean you're a lesbian?"

"Yeah, that's it."

I didn't mean to lie,  it's just easier that way.

Post. Script. I am not a lesbian.

The poets can guess at what we might have had

 I don't sleep well next to someone I don't care for.

 I just lie there, opening my eyes every once and a while to see how much time has passed. How much time is left before they leave. It never winds down as fast as I want it to. How desperately I just want him to leave. Oh, but when he leaves, something remarkable happens.

I am me again, I can breathe again.

I don't feel things the way I use to, all my "feelings" these days result in a half ass attempt to seem sincere. Songs don't make me sad, surprises don't make me happy. I'm starting to wonder if anyone is catching on. I'm thinking about a lot of things all at the same time, but they're stuck somewhere that I can't find the opening to. 

My babybaby sister,

I miss you so much, and it hurts my heart when you aren't around. 
A few days ago I was talking to someone about sleeping habits and I had told them that when I was little I use to beg and plead every night to sleep with you. We both realized that it sounded a bit peculiar that I would want to sleep with my little sister. but it really isn't. You've always been the formidable sister.

I've always felt like you were torn away from me, and it changed me.
I will never be as strong as you.
You are well-made and long-lasting,
and I am weak and flimsy.

( I wrote this for my sister, but I wanted you to read it.)