What can be worse than a siren who sucks at love? One with stage fright... and lots of it.

You'd think that after a couple hundred years of hopping between bands and orchestras, I'd be used to standing on a raised platform and playing to my heart's content, but I'm not--I'm far from it.

I never really understood why I'm like this--It's odd.

I wouldn't exactly refer to myself as "shy", but it almost seems to be the easiest way of explaining my mindset.

It's not that I don't want to meet new people, because I really do--it's more of some sort of mental block for me.

I'll never really understand it, but there's just something buried deep within my mind that makes it near impossible to socialize.

Every time I walk up to a conversation, I'm nervous beyond belief. I shake a little bit as my chest tenses up. My mind replays the constant mantra of: "if you mess up even the slightest bit here, everyone will hate you. Say goodbye to any sort of social life you have left. It'll all be gone in a minute".

I know... What a great, optimistic outlook on things.

If I somehow manage to wedge myself into a conversation, I don't know how to carry my weight properly--I'll butt in at the wrong time and bring the wrong energy and emotions to the conversation. Sometimes, I'm too animated and it drives people off. (I have to force myself to even be animated at all. It doesn't exactly come naturally to me as it does other people.)

I've been told time and time again that I'm an asshole--partially because sometimes I'll slip up and express my thoughts on someone's situation in a very monotone way; apparently, a mistake like that makes me the worst person on earth.

I've been told I'm far too blunt as well--I tell people exactly how I see things and they get offended. Obviously, I feel bad for hurting them, but I wasn't meaning to come across that way in the first place.

I have a problem with seeing the world as "black and white"--ones and zeroes. Completely binary. I know that's not the case because there's always going to be a third or fourth option, or even a fifth. But, the way my brain's wired, I can help but only see "good" and "evil" and not the morally grey void between.

I'll confess, I definitely need to get better at looking at all the in-betweens and outliers--but it'll take time.

I lean on the sink in the restroom, my palms fashioned near the outer rim, as if they're meant to support me. My golden gaze locked on the sink drain, seemingly too nervous and overwhelmed to even move from that spot.

I refuse to look up to where the lights are rooted in the ceiling.

They'll practically burn my eyes out, I think to myself.

But even without looking up, the lights still wound me.

The electrical hum of the lights sends my brain into a total state of hurt and panic--the sound's too much. It hurts so damn bad.

Some days when this kind of stuff happens, I'm able to ignore it, but others... The lights, sounds, and texture all wreck havoc and bring hellfire down upon my senses.

That's not normal, right? Does everyone go through this? Or am I just a freak who can't even get just simply existing right?

"Oh god," I begin to grumble to myself. (Even the quiet volume of my hushed voice seems to be far too much for me right now.) "What the hell is wrong with me?" I exhale, finally moving my gaze up somewhat from the drain so now I'm looking at my reflection. I can see how my arms shake somewhat as I continue to keep them firmly planted at the sink's edge.

"You're a siren," I whisper. "You shouldn't be dealing with whatever this hell is... You're better than this, Fedya." I try to continue to hype myself up, but even just talking seems to be tiring--it hurts as well.

Internally, I can feel myself panicking.

I try to calm myself by thinking about what one of my ex-boyfriends--Vlad--had told me before: "Relax, moy dorogoy. Everything might seem like too much and maybe it is for you... but you need to remember, close your eyes. See that darkness? Focus your mind on that... Wrap yourself up in it. Now things won't seem as bright, eh?".

Thinking back on it, the advice was pretty good, but unfortunately, Vlad had been poisoned the next day. Apparently half of a container of bleach had found its way into the milk jug in his fridge. How he didn't notice? It's beyond me... Only whoever cursed me knows.

I close my eyes, taking a deep breath. "Focus," I whisper to myself.

The darkness lays before me and I can feel myself mentally reaching out to grasp ahold of it.

Come on. Almost there.

I take another deep breath, forcing myself upward so I leave that slouched position behind. I relax my shoulders and give a bit of room for my chest to actually properly breathe.

Gotcha.

I open my eyes again, seeing my reflection materialize in front of me as it did before. I keep my gaze only on my gold eyes as I try to steady myself.

"Come on, Collin," I hear a gentle voice say. "We have to be quick if we want to see the band perform."

Curiosity gets the best of me and I let my eyes move slightly so I can see who entered the restroom out of the corner of my eye.

There's a young man, leading a toddler to one of the stalls.

I notice how the light caresses the young man's dark skin and feel my heart skip a beat, my face feeling slightly warm.

The toddler gets a little bit too hyper and breaks free of the man's grasp and starts to run, hitting my leg and falling.

The young man immediately rushes over with wide eyes. "Sorry!" He says, helping his son back up and taking the little boy into his grasp once more. "He just takes off sometimes." He looks up to meet my gaze and I can see some sort of shift in his expression.

Am I too pale? Is it my eyes that are off-putting? I'm not sure, but he definitely changed his demeanor upon seeing me.

"It's fine," I say, quickly, already feeling the awkwardness creep up between us. My heart starts to race as I feel myself on the verge of panicking once more. Then, I leave the restroom as fast as possible.