It became something of a satire, really. The cycle of wanting nothing and needing everything at the same time. Full of paradox and symbolism. The gestures for security and control of course, but isolation was perhaps one of the cruelest ironies of them all. If it cannot be seen or acknowledged, it doesn’t exist – The Disappearing Act.
I wanted desperately to be alone but needed to belong. Opening my mouth was an impossible breeding ground for shame and guilt; two human reactions that only grow the less you talk about them. The human body, so powerful an instrument, said the things my voice couldn’t.
And so, presenting myself completely genuine and vulnerable has been the only path to liberty and happiness. How’s that for cruel irony?