Silhouette

I am silhouetted.

The line if my jaw uninterrupted,

The slope of my nose goes carefully down,

One hand, you can see, smooths down the side of my blouse.

A stunning first impression, there.

My best side forward,

Just enough to catch the sparkle at the corner of my eye.

But I am not a whole thing

I am not just this image here, silly side-eye and a smirk,

I am a broken thing, missing parts.

You cannot see it from this angle, I won't let you.

I don't want you to see the empty socket past the curve of my nose.

The ticking anxious muscle past the line of my jaw.

The other hand with trembling fingers poised to defend.

The cracked and crumbling bits that hold up that last sparkling smile.

I am Silhouetted.

Stress

 My anxiety is going off the RAILS here. 

Never been on a plane by myself before. 

Never gone to meet people without a safety net.

I'm terrified they're going to dislike me. Not hate. I don't think they could hate me. But I'm afraid that they aren't going to LIKE me. That I'm going to be a huge disappointment. A let down. A boring, lame, lack-luster new acquaintance.

Help.