The Sacred Sniffles of Shame

I have an ego to topple Empires. I assume the best. I make friends easily. I speak up. I go first. I smile, remember names, shake hands (you know like when we were allowed to), engage and follow the fuck up.

Afterwards however, I eat my skin alive from the inside. I can barely stand my face or keep my place fixed, concentration certain. Ball in socket, eye on prize, ace anywhere near the hole. As I strut, inside I shrink.

Jesus, I did that again. How could I? Fuck, I can never go there again — talk to them — show my face…