When you're growing up, you're told you're never alone in what you're feeling. Teachers would always say, "Don't be afraid to ask questions because chances are your classmates have the same ones," and when your parents were giving you The Talk, they'd say something like, "Don't be embarrassed about this, everyone is going through the same thing."
That was comforting when you were young and confused and your friends had acne, too. When you're twenty years old with a privileged life and you can't seem to manage talking on the phone, getting your homework done, doing your laundry, meeting new people, or getting out of bed on the weekends—the things normal people can manage—you think you must be alone. There must be something wrong with me.
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