stop asking what’s wrong with me

You feel it coming before they even open their mouth.

A stranger spots you in the produce aisle.

They're doing that thing where they're pretending not to stare while absolutely staring.

Your spidey sense is tingling.

They move closer and you just hope they’re going to ask you what time it is, or if you know where the avocados are.

“What’s wrong with you?”

Annnnnd there it is.

That question.