with me.

The year is 2019, the day Friday; the time is maybe a few minutes past 10 at night. This is slightly later than my normal bed time. How old are you? You will ask, for me to have a specific bed time. I am 17 years turning 18 in three months. It’s a Friday night and a Friday night means it’s party time. However, contrary to the dictionary definition, my party is not a social gathering. A social gathering is my weakness, like an actual weakness. It just doesn’t seem to exist in my vast collection of words. Maybe I have to update my dictionary but in the meantime the stipulated definition does not apply. It’s a free world anyway.

My mother gave me the name Angela but my dad seems to be in disagreement and calls me Angie. I on the other side call myself Angel. Three different names, how wonderful? Be that as it may, I strongly recommend that you call me Angel because this is my story my rules. Thank you so much for your understanding.

My name is Angel and I want to cordially invite you to my party this Friday. I am not taking no for an answer. I have a few rules though; dress code-the real you, entrance fee- an open mind, food and drinks will be served. You are very welcome.

I am seated in my hostel room all alone staring into some pictures in motion. One of the few friends I have strongly recommended this staring competition with my laptop screen and somehow I fell for the trap. It’s meant to be interesting, captivating and all magnetizing. Spellbinding, she said. Sadly, I can confirm a spell has been cast on me because I am staring at the screen, better I am gawking at the life that would have been mine if only my dad or mum would have been kind enough to give me the guts I so much lack. The pictures in motion are actually a movie whose title I never bothered to get. If asked, I say I am a movie fanatic, one who can’t tell even the name of a single famous actor. Anyway, it’s my life my rules.

A normal campus Friday night is noisy and fun filled. It’s a competition of how many party cups one can drain into their throats and remain standing and may I add party cups do not contain distilled drinking water. If you know you know. I just joined campus and my pastor’s voice is a constant in my mind and I do not wish to be the outcast while others go to heaven. I mean I am Angel and heaven is home.

After about 2 hours of staring at the screen, the list of the producers, editors, cast and crew starts to roll up my screen signaling the end of our competition. I don’t think either of us blinked so that was a draw. I don’t lose easily so I will plan for a rematch with my laptop being quarter charged. That will be a sure -bet on my victory. I tuck myself in bed thanking the heavens that another Friday is over and I have another whole week to come up with an excuse to evade the never ending party invites. This Friday, I feigned a flu and so far I have merely sneezed and my nose is moving at snail speed and running is clearly not on its agenda. I love you nose, to the moon and back.

“Hey Angel, I am at your door. Hope you are ready the party is starting in a few minutes” a text on my phone reads.

I had tapped on the notification bar anticipating a goodnight text from absolutely nobody and definitely did not expect any. What the hell? Who even begins a party at a few minutes to midnight? I thought I had forwarded my flu excuse to all potential party inviters but clearly I need to have to plan a very long meeting with my inefficient service providers for not delivering my texts.

“Hey, I am already in bed and I have such a bad flu I won’t make it. I am sorry” I texted back.” And next time receive texts that are not delivered to you,” I wanted to add but then figured I still needed a  rapport with my schoolmates and almost non-existent friends.

I intentionally drove myself into a coughing cat with particular emphasis on the wheezing just to drive my point across to whoever was on the other side of the door. Fortunately, the intruder to my privacy retreated after what I considered to be twenty hours but turned out to be 10 minutes. I must be really good at this acting deal, does anyone there know of an acting firm that is hiring? Nonetheless, this was only after I had coughed myself dry and now had a throat to nurse. That means I have to get Strepsils in the morning. This might appear quite the task but believe me it is a mountain that only faith can move and not Angel.

One thing I can proudly say I am cognizant of is that self -awareness is a key to self –mastery. Almost everyone I know calls me an introvert, someone who is predominantly concerned with their own thoughts rather than external things. This is what they think I am but I know me better. I am agarophobic. Before you give Google the honors, agarophobia is the fear of the market place. In the literal meaning, I fear the market more than I fear apocalyptic events. I am the kind of person if groceries run low, I will forage the play store for a delivery app in my location. No offence meant to the great people in the market but I take offence at the rate at which their mouths spew out words. The speed is more than my very talented brain can handle. It’s a free world and no law is yet to be created to control the rate of talking and so in the meantime I have made it my personal responsibility to avoid potential offenders.

According to psychiatrists, Agarophobia is an anxiety disorder in which one fears and avoids places or situations that might cause them to panic and make them feel trapped, helpless or embarrassed. Simply put it is a fear of social embarrassment. It is influenced by both genetic and environmental factors but mostly by traumatic events. In my case, I think I developed its mild version after the kidnapping of my younger brother at a circus show. I am certain it is not genetic because I honestly think whoever came up with the term social might have interacted with my parents. Those two are just garrulous to put it mildly, you know I can’t afford my school fees yet leave alone afford to be disowned.

This explains my tendencies to avoid parties like a bug. I prefer my own company because I only trust my hostel room in school and my room at school. At least I can’t attack myself not unless with a fake coughing spree that leaves my throat wounded. If anyone decides to attack me, I have a really huge cooking stick that I took without permission from my mother’s kitchen. Note, not steal. Did you even think for a moment that I am a thief? Your ignorance is forgiven.

My sore throat is such a perfect excuse to avoid unnecessary talk. At least I can look on the positive of everything. In case you missed this, I hate talking as much as I hate cereals for breakfast.

The few friends I have however don’t understand that I am not acting snobbish. They actually call me ‘that friend of ours who is an introvert‘. Not like I mind the term but they don’t know much vocabulary like I do. Better put, they are not a bit conversant with psychiatry like I am. Friends, you are forgiven!I am bit too generous with my forgiveness, but its only for today. Next time you call me a snob you will face the full wrath of Angel. Just saying.

I read in some text that treatment for this fear is confronting my own fears. How on earth do you expect me to confront my fears if they scare the living crap out of me? I guess the gene for guts is non -existent in our family otherwise I would be somewhere in party travelling to cloud 13 from cloud 9. But do you know what, it bothers me the less. Candidly, it bothers me a little but I do not care or try to pretend that I don’t. Again I say it’s a free world, I have the freedom to live as I wish. There is nothing wrong with being an introvert. It is not meant for everyone to be the same. Appreciate variety. Just imagine if your class was full of party lovers, am sure you would miss that quiet girl at the corner who does her assignment on time for you to facsimile. I politely mean to copy.

But maybe my friend can help me overcome my fear of social place but slowly reintroducing the idea into my life. I will not give my power away by allowing others to define me. I am a jealous queen. I am a solicitous sovereign. All the best friends as you type that party invitation text, I already have a response to it. I have perfected my art at dodging potential robbers of my company. All the same, your efforts are highly appreciated but I have few things I would like to iron out between fear and I. We have planned a coffee date tomorrow. If and only if it goes well then I will host the next queen B party.

In the meantime I will polish my expertness in you know what….proudly party-phobic till otherwise stated.

Yours and only yours,

Angela/Angie/Angel

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