Hiding

I sitting in my office on a Sunday. I've holed myself up, only seeing the outlines of people behind the purple and cream curtains. I just can't bear to be seen. Have you ever really just wanted to hide from the world…while simultaneously charging your computer?

Every offhand comment, look, tone, laugh feels like a jeer, an accusation, mocking, an assault. It's a minefield from the moment I take one step outside my front gate to the secure clink of the lock on my office door, the swoosh of the curtains as I close them and the heavy sigh of hermit solitude. It doesn't matter that none, or almost none, of my interactions are meant the way I take them. I can't rationalize behavior. I can't drudge up my patience. I can't logically attribute actions to cultural differences. I just want to hide. So hiding I am.