A small story about me and my struggle with public-speaking
Tick…Tock…Tick…Tock… that was the sound of the clock. It was just about to turn midnight. It was just about to turn midnight. I was just looking over an essay speech I had to write for a homework assignment. This speech had to be about “spreading the awareness” of something and air pollution seemed to be the easiest to write about. I was sitting by my desk. It was dark, so I kept my table lamp on. My desk was messy; it had pens, pencils, and empty water bottles scattered around. I noticed my sister on our bed, already half asleep.
“Are you going to sleep?” she asked in a tired voice.
“Fiiine…” I jumped onto the bed, zipped my bag up, and quickly fell asleep.
Tick Talk
Beeep….Beeep…Beep…The school bell screamed at me. I sat on my chair with the other students, and rapidly took my speech out and read it over and over again. I was confident, and deteermined that I could read it to the class, for I could not do this before. As Mr. Downes, who was as tall as a skyscraper, called my name, I stood up, and suddenly felt shivers in my legs. I sensed a weird feeling that the periphery spread across the room, and that it was clogged with 23 students blathering about who would go up and read their speech next. I walked up and looked at them for a good minute as they quited down. Some of them silently cheered me on, knowing I wasn’t really good at speeches. I suddenly felt the most shittiest and most awkward feeling. The feeling as if so many newborn spiders were climbing up my spine. Every students’ eyes dug deep into mine. The eyes were like lasers, pointed directly to the middle of my forehead, threatening me to read my speech.
As I was about to say the first word, I realized my throat wouldn’t let me make a noise. I felt so stupid, so damn stupid. I couldn’t get a single word out of me.
“Stop looking at me!” I loudly whispered, humourosly, so it doesn’t look like I’m about to cry.
“It’s okay! You can do it!” Mr. Skyscraper exclaimed.
Well that’s just great! Mr Skyscraper’s words repeated over and over again in my head, which really irritated me. I tried to hide my anger. So, instead of having anger in my eyes, there were tears. Big, glassy, bulgy tears. I extended my eyes as much as I could so that the tears wouldn’t show. Despite all of these obnoxious feelings, I also felt confused. I’ve known these kids for eternity, and they were like my best friends. It was quite a conundrum, and my understanding of it was nothing but vague.
“Don’t worry. Is there anything we can do to help you?” Skyscraper asked in a kind-hearted voice.
All I did was stare at him. I couldn’t get a word out. My throat hurt. Teaching the class about air pollution? Pathetic. More like throat pollution… I was embarassed, I didn’t like it there. I wanted to go home, my room, specifically.
Suddenly, I heard giggles echo from somewhere, some kids. I felt heavily degraded. My vision blurred, and I couldn’t tell the expression on an individual’s face. They were smiling. They were laughing. I started to sweat. I closed my eyes and realized it was mostly my imagination, or they were probbaly laughing at something else.
“It’s okay, you can go back to your seat,” Skyscraper suddenly said to me.
Mr Skyscraper’s Speech
I scurried back to my seat and realized the tears that were in my eyes started to roll down my face. More, and more tears trickled down my face. I was a leaking pipe you can find down in the sewers, and you wouldn’t know where or when that leak can become a flood.
“I was just like you,” Skyscraper caught everyone’s attention, especially mine.
“I also had an anxiety disorder, and also got nervous when it came to speaking in front of people.”
He continued to talk about how this disorder can be fixed, and he did his best to motivate me. I focused hard on his speech, and didn’t notice the tissues handed to me. Everyone clapped when he finished his speech, and so did I. I learned that once in a blue moon, I can get over this fear just like he did. And I was proud that I was able to stand up there and spread the awareness of anxiety, without even using a single word.