Originally written 12-August-2019

It’s awful early to be crying in the bathroom at work, but here we are, Monday morning at 9:30 a.m.

I smiled, made eye contact, and said “good morning” to someone I don’t know in the hallway, something that is both difficult and rare for me.

This individual made no nod, look, or acknowledgment of any kind, just stared straight ahead as we passed. Not distracted by cell phone or staring at notes in a folder. Just, nothing.

This is harmonious with how isolated and alone I’ve been feeling the past few weeks. Invisible, unimportant, and not worth acknowledging.

I know it’s my disorder saying “no one really likes you” but it’s hard to argue with that inner voice when you spend much of your non-working, non-sleeping hours alone, despite reaching out for companionship.

So, withdrawal it is. Alone time is good for writing.

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