I, I and I.

Sometimes it's difficult to muster the energy to deal with people. Sometimes I'm happiest when alone. And sometimes making art and writing seem to be the only ways I can participate in life or communicate that I exist. It's also scary to think that there's a risk that one day I may reject people all together because of this social weakness. Letting that happen is not an option though. It would truthfully be the end of me. Nobody wants to end up like Ayn Rand.