I feel raw. Like someone born without skin. I feel too hot as though the air around me is slowly boiling. I feel out of place and awkward, as if all my clothes were half a size too small.
Is it just me that feels this way. I look at other people and they seem to fit in but perhaps they feel exactly as I do. Maybe other people can't tell how I feel. Maybe other people look at me and envy my apparent unruffled calm.
I know that some people envy me my mind. That's because they don't have to live with it. It's a very clever mind but it gives me no piece. It's never still or quiet and it is far too much in love with it's own cleverness. It makes me ill with it's constant chatter. It makes too much of everything.
Sometimes I wish I was stupid. Or at least a bit more average.