Everything seems so different after a violation. People don't seem as normal as they use to be. Their faces don't read the same. It's not them. It's me. The facade of normal people who are capable of invading your space and taking your things.
A younger version of myself would get OCD heated. I see that in talking to my Mom. She gets "Rain Man" sometimes, going over the same ground over and over again. Would've/Could've/Should'ves and the place I lived seem so much less botanical, and much more ugly.
It's obviously going to take more time to get back up to speed with seeing people normal again. For the time being, I have to wait it out away from my pad. Strangely, a similar feeling to abandoning the other oasis in the complex after that roommate practically burned down the place. I think the home should be a place you feel comfortable. Right now, I think wherever I go, my eyes search a little deeper these days.
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