The Shell

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I feel a smile on my face. I let out bursts of laughter, and words fly from my mouth — I am talking. Sitting around me are my closest friends. The sun is shining, it’s a hot afternoon, and we are sitting on a packed patio.

What no one knows is that I am just a shell, robotically mimicking what the people around me are doing. Inside, I feel empty, cold, and lonely. My heart is pounding, and I feel a bead of sweat on my forehead. I see the world through a fog. What I am saying, I am not entirely sure—just the same kind of empty words and mirroring of others, most likely. But no one notices, because they talk the same way themselves. Do they feel this way on the inside, too? Or are they truly happy and content?  

Jealousy and bitterness darken my mind. I feel uncomfortable on the small, wooden folding chair. Are other people staring at me? Are they judging me? Do I stand out from the crowd? They must be condemning me in their minds, whispering about me among themselves. Me, me, me — is that all that goes through my head? They don’t even actually notice me. But is that any better?  

Stealthily, I keep checking the clock, wondering when it will be an appropriate time to leave. But that means I have to stand up and walk right through the middle of all these people. Maybe I’ll just stay a little longer.

My friends are laughing — what are they laughing at, I didn’t hear. I cackle weakly along with them, blending into the crowd. I clutch my bag in my lap, hoping it will hide me from the world.  

. . .

"Sorry to let you know so late, but I won't be able to make it today after all. Have a super fun time though! <3" Send. No one comments. Have I used up all my Get Out of Jail Free cards? 

I throw the phone from my hand and burrow beneath the blanket. I get comfortable in the corner of the couch and open my book. I feel a sick sensation inside of me. Guilt, regret. Am I being selfish? Tears sting my eyes, but I won't let them fall. Here, I am safe. Better to stay home than to go out and be judged by others. 

This happens more and more often now.  

Later, the group chat and social media stories fill up with pictures of joyful clinking glasses and sunny faces. I was supposed to be out there. Coward. You bailed because you were afraid you'd feel empty and uncomfortable. Do you feel any better now?  

Next time I won't chicken out, I promise. 

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About this piece: This text is a dramaturgical prose exercise focusing on the vivid depiction of internal emotion and situational contrast. The narrative explores themes of social anxiety, insecurity, and the overwhelming cycle of FOMO and guilt. Strategically utilizing internal monologue and a sharp shift in perspective, the story begins in a claustrophobic, anxious social setting that is ultimately revealed to be a preemptive, fear-induced vision imagined from the safety of the protagonist's couch.