Angst.
If I could verbally express the way angst felt, maybe I could rationalize it, reduce its sting. Maybe instead of feeling this way, this uncomfortable reminder of something amiss, I could just let it go. Would I lose a part of myself? Are the same parts of my brain that drive me into being creative, the same parts that want things to go a certain way? Do I have to have one to get the other? Do I continue to do things for a motive of purity if the situation provides me with dread? Why do I dread? I could use an entire session in a counselor’s office. One reason is that humans exist and interaction is both biologically and socially necessary. Interaction means accountability and obligation, two things I obviously need, but despise the idea of. Acting "natural" doesn't come natural to me. Even when I mentally acknowledge these thoughts and feelings, it’s like scratching what I thought was an itch on my back, only to find out that it was my stomach the entire time. I...