I live in a world they will never care to understand. They live in a world I wish I could not understand.

I have no memory of ever having felt lonely while alone — but many memories of feeling lonely in company.

I have always disliked myself most when I have heard myself saying what I was supposed to say, or was expected to say, or was being cheered on to say.

I watched them scheme their success over beer. I slipped away without being noticed or missed, although I could have earned my seat at the table merely by paying for the next round.

I am annoyed when they congratulate me on a job well done. How dare they presume to know what job I am trying to do, let alone what would constitute doing it well! I would rather they ignore or despise me for whatever they imagine me to be doing, than that they should act so familiar and presumptuous.

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