Foot in Mouth Syndrome

I've started to realize why I've subconciously distanced myself from everyone around me for the past few years. I have a tendancy to either say the wrong thing, or do the wrong thing, or let myself be beaten down. Constantly. (And, unfortunately, I don't have Chitty's ability to turn those situations into priceless comedy)

Lately it seems there's not a day that goes by without me having to apologize, or wish I could backtrack in time and erase what I've said/done. And when I'm not busy doing that, then I'm letting others poke holes in my self-esteem with their words - draw me into corners and make assumptions that leave me with a bad taste in my mouth and feeling even more isolated.

Of course it could all just be swinging hormones, affecting the colour I see the world. Well, most of it at least. But somehow I seem to have this inbuilt ability to make an idiot of myself, even at the best of times when idiotness should be completely off the options list.

And this morning it hit me that I've isolated myself as a result. I haven't let anyone get too close, I've kept out of conversations and relationships so I won't turn out to be a fool. (Even if I don't appear to be a fool to others, I too often feel it) I've held those around me at arm's length, never getting too close. When I have started to tentatively engage, the idiot factor rears up again. So I bow out, refrain from comment, step back from the ever-entwining circles which a part of me longs to join. I stand on the outside and let them go on without me. It's a hurt-prevention mechanism that's become second-nature.

Except here. My "safe" place to be who I am and say what I want.

Which is why I'm blogging this.

::update::
Written in high school, I guess this shows my "social ineptitude" has been ongoing, and perhaps I should be seeking permanent solutions:

I watch the world go by
An outsider in a glass cage
In desperation I strike the pane
It breaks and my hand is cut

In the outside world I walk eagerly
Reaching out to parts of humanity
But the world turns its back
Wherever I turn it turns away

My tears wash the blood on my hand
A thin transparent shield grows
With every rejection it thickens

This glass cage is unbreakable
My wounded hand will not heal