Awkwardly Introverted

  I sit down, book in hand, feeling like this is   finally   my moment 📚✨. The house is quiet, the lights are perfect, and I’m about to dive into my favorite escape. Page one—no problem. Page two—cruising. Page three… wait, what? I’ve read this same sentence like four times. Oh no, it’s happening again. My brain has left the chat 😵‍💫. Focus, I tell myself. But by the next sentence, I’m suddenly wondering, “Do penguins have knees?” 🐧🤔. I flip back a page. Okay, I got this.  Focus . But nope, here I am, thinking about whether or not I left the stove on. I try again, but it’s like my brain is made of mashed potatoes 🥴. I’m staring at this book like a skeleton now. Am I even alive? 🦴 At this point, I’ve read the same paragraph five times, and I still have no idea what’s happening. Is the main character in danger, or are they just walking the dog? Who knows anymore? This is my life: zoning out, flipping back pages, and pretending I have any clue what’s going on. Th...