open letter to Monique (rough draft)
I believe I've created and cultivated a workable reality for me that doesn't necessarily trace over my actual reality, in some areas it doesn't even come close to matching. This isn't just an (extreme) anxiety thing. This goes to deeper, to the very crux of my being. A being which contains vast expanses of nothingness, social skills that haven't been realized. Skills that I'm aware of existing in others but that continue to mystify me. Something typical might get said, something everyone in the room might have a similar almost automatic response to, but that completely fgfgffffff --- this is where things get muddy, providing examples. Which do exist. But hard, I find, to bring into focus in my mind. Also, I'm tired as fuck. Put a pin in this shit. I do like where this is going, as far as something I may actually use for explanation purposes.