I frequently find myself thinking of things that I should tell a therapist or psychologist, if at some point I’m ever able to get an official diagnosis, things that seem to be examples of whatever the condition is that I need diagnosed. Because one of the hallmarks of my anxiety is that I can never just be my own thoughts—I am always simultaneously my audience as well. As I think something, I am thinking about the fact that I am thinking about that thing, what that might mean or say about me, and what that would make someone think about me if they knew it. One of the reasons I am so insecure is that I can never be unobserved in my life. No matter how safe the environment is, even if I am completely alone in my own house, I can’t stop watching my own every move in real time, seeing it from the perspective of an audience. Pausing to think about this just now, I realize that even if I had the superpower of invisibility, I could never be completely, one hundred percent comfortable—because think about it—the thing that happens in nearly every movie in the world is that no matter how impossible something is, it happens in the first twenty minutes, and now that’s what this movie is going to be about. Picture it: you’re the Invisible Person, unseen by the entire planet until one day, someone sees you. Because my brain has seen that scenario enacted, because the possibility exists in my memory, I would know that was going to be me.