The Dangerous Art of Blending In

by Angelo Surmelis

I notice too much. Every little thing in a room about a person, place, anything, feels like it’s giving off a signal, like everything is trying to communicate with me. That’s why I love neat, well-organized rooms. There’s less noise and my head feels calm.

Mostly, I’m scrambling to do different things to please different people. I wonder what would happen if I only spent time doing what interested me.

The kind of day when faking it is harder than usual. I can do a pretty decent job pretending to be normal.

I’ve worked so hard to keep everything down. To not feel pain. Not react. Blend in. But it’s not working anymore. I hurt. I feel it.