I think they're gonna get me

Although I was raised by a paranoid mother, I don't think that I myself am paranoid. But I'm not really sure. You see, I'm pretty sure if you are paranoid, then you don't know. But since I'm contemplating it, then I suppose I can't be.

I have a friend who, when we are at a gas station together, always has people talk to her. And it's not necessarily a safe gas station. It's a bulletproof glass by the cashier gas station. A they don't have public bathrooms gas station. Yet, whenever we stop there, someone always talks to her. They offer to give her free merchandise out of the back of their van, sell her half price cigarettes, talk about her car, chat about the weather, and ask her to donate for sick children. Yes, really all of these. She is so nice. Chatty. Makes eye contact. Continues the conversation.

Is she just more ballsy than me? Or stupider? Or am I really that much of a pussy?

In none of the aforementioned circumstances would I have even spoken to these people. I would have shaken my head like you do when you are walking past a homeless person that you may feel badly for, but really, you just can't look at them. They look like they have multiple bodily fluids on them, and that's really not okay to you.

So am I just an anti-social paranoid, or am I someone who actually has street smarts? Well, I know that I don't have a lot of street smarts, but enough to avoid being abducted by someone trying to get you to look at their cute puppy in the back of their panel van. And the puppy has candy. And half price cigarettes.