I’ve changed. I’m not sick. The others are getting worked up for nothing. I’m simply oppressed. Why won’t they let me breathe? I’m suffocating in the darkness of this bedroom. They say I’m crazy. That worries me a little. Am I really? All these people swarming around me make me anxious. Their inquisitive looks. Their opinions about my state turn more and more decisive. I’m afraid of the horrors they reel off with certitude. I’m worried. Have I changed?
