I don’t recognize my family anymore; and I don’t mean that they seem like strangers, I mean like they aren’t even people. Like everything is distorted and flat and distant— everything’s abnormal and strange and gray. Nothing feels familiar. So I don’t want to be around them because each new moment, each little exchange of words is fuel for this fire. It’s like, by talking to me, touching me, or wanting to spend time with me, they’re deliberately placing me, front and center, in the scariest, loneliest phenomena I’ve ever experienced. It just like confirms everything I’ve been thinking. It makes all of the thoughts seem so real, and that’s the last thing I want to do; be proved right. And I have no idea how tell them. So they’re left upset and confused. That makes me feel even worse, but it also makes the existential dread even worse; it’s like it’s questioning why I’m even worried about how I’m making them feel because they’re temporary, I’m temporary, nothing matters, blah, blah, blah. So no matter where I go, what I do, it’s always there and I’m just so tired. I’m so so so tired.