...and it’s not even their fault, is it, that little ripple of expectation that hits me when someone just wants to be nice at the checkout, but my whole system still floods with that old adrenaline, that immediate need to retreat into the quiet hum of my own space where Pixel is probably curled up on my lap right now not judging me for not wanting to make eye contact with a stranger who's just doing their job, it's just so much energy just to exist sometimes, to constantly manage that boundary between wanting to disappear and secretly, deep down, still aching for someone to truly see me without having to fight for it, without having to perform, and I used to think that ache was a weakness, a constant reminder of everything I was failing at, but now it just feels like a whisper, a gentle pull towards something that doesn't feel like a cage anymore, just maybe a window, a crack of light I can choose to open, or not.