the more i’m alone, whatever you call it, i feel more in touch with myself, and i feel better. i realize there are others like me, that it’s okay to like these things and feel this way, and i never want to have contact with anyone outside this house ever again.

and then when i get out again, i feel hidden and embarrassed, like i’m doing something wrong, like i’m mistaken to act this way when nobody else does. i’m compelled to say strange things and act in strange ways and do things just to make other people happy or see me as somebody i’m not.

• and it's 3:40 a.m. and i still haven't finished this essay.