things was dark and singular.

In which I left for a while and didn’t tell you (whoops)

I just spent four days at a retreat for my summer fellowship, where I presented the work I’ve done so far and got validation both personally and professionally. The first day I was there I wanted to go to bed at 5 pm and never get back out; by the time we left today, I was honestly sad to go. It was like the weirdest summer camp I’ve ever been to, and the best. A lot of people came up to me after my presentation and told me they’d loved it. And I made an effort to talk to the majority of the people there, and a lot of them liked me - like, really liked me - and for a couple of days I got to role-play the Best Case Scenario version of myself. You know. Smart, funny, interesting. I’m those things all of the time, don’t get me wrong; I have a bit of self-esteem. Maybe two bits.

Anyway, I’m now back at my house (my house-house, where my parents are) for the weekend, so the vacation is sort of over. When I go back to Pittsburgh, I gotta go deal with the mental-health circuit again; even here, my parents know all the important, unfun stuff. That’s the trouble with people who love you, right? They know you.

But last night, I was walking in the grass on the side of the road with five people I’d only just met, on our way to a Sheetz we were pretty sure was nearby, and the sun was setting and I was telling a story. And it felt nice, you know? Things don’t always feel nice. That’s what I wanted to tell you.