I swear to God, I don't know what's wrong with me. I just… froze. Today. In the goddamn cafeteria. It was like a fucking scene from a movie, you know? Packed. Like, *packed*. A hundred conversations going at once, the clang of trays, that weird smell of fried food and… anticipation, I guess? Everyone else was just… doing it. Like it was nothing. Finding their friends, sliding into chairs, laughing. And I was just… there. Holding this tray with a sad-looking panini and a carton of milk, feeling like an absolute fucking idiot. And it's not like I don't know people. I mean, I *know* people. From classes. From the student group. I've even had coffee with a few of them. But there wasn't a single goddamn face I could confidently walk up to. Not one. Everyone was already paired off, in their little cliques. And the thought of just… interrupting? That felt like a social transgression of epic proportions. Like I’d be breaching some unspoken etiquette. I just kept scanning, scanning, trying to make eye contact with someone, anyone, who might offer even a flicker of recognition. Nothing. Just a sea of… indifference. Or maybe not indifference, maybe just preoccupation. Everyone else was already in their groove. My chest started getting tight. It’s a familiar sensation, a kind of pre-panic tightening that starts just behind the sternum and radiates out. My hands felt clammy on the tray. I could hear my own breathing, sudden and shallow, over the din. It was like I was trapped in a glass box, observing this vibrant, alive scene, but completely disconnected from it. A pure anhedonic moment, I guess you could call it. Just… flatness. In the middle of all that noise and energy. And then the internal monologue started, the really unhelpful one. *What the fuck is wrong with you? Everyone else can do this. You're almost thirty-two years old, for Christ's sake. You have a goddamn degree. You managed to get your mother through chemo, for fuck’s sake, you can’t even find a place to sit?* And it’s true. All of it. I juggled full-time work and her appointments for nearly two years. I learned how to manage her meds, dealt with the insurance companies, cooked every single meal, researched every goddamn alternative therapy she vaguely showed interest in. My entire life was a goddamn logistical marvel for years. I was functioning at peak efficiency under insane pressure. But this? This felt… insurmountable. The simple act of *being social* in an unstructured environment. It’s like all the circuits just short-circuited. I felt a flush creep up my neck. I could feel myself getting hot, like everyone was suddenly looking at the pathetic older student standing there, hovering like a specter. That’s probably pure cognitive distortion, I know, but it *felt* real. The shame was palpable. So I just… walked out. With the tray. Walked right back out the doors, past the people still streaming in. Didn't even think about it. Just moved. My legs felt like they had their own agenda. I found an empty bench outside, near the bike racks, and sat there, picking at the panini, watching people hurry by. The sun was out, it was a perfectly good day. And I just sat there, eating my sad lunch, feeling this weird, detached emptiness. Like a total void. It’s just… what the hell is this? I’m supposed to be starting this new chapter, right? The 'me' chapter. The one where I finally pursue *my* interests, get *my* degree, after all those years of putting everything else first. Mom's stable now, thankfully. And I'm here. At this huge university. And I feel like a goddamn ghost. Like I don't even know how to exist outside of a caregiving role. It's like I've forgotten the fundamental human skill of just… *being*. Is this what happens when you spend so long being responsible for someone else's everything? Do you just lose your own internal operating system? Like, did I just overwrite my own social protocols with "crisis management" and "emotional regulation for others"? It feels like I’ve got some kind of profound social atrophy. Or maybe it’s a symptom of something else. This profound inability to connect, even when surrounded by hundreds of potential connections. It's not shyness. It's… worse. It’s a complete and utter disconnect. A blank. I don’t even know what I’m asking for here. Just… is this normal? This feeling of utter, paralyzing incompetence in the face of something so trivial? This feeling of being utterly invisible, even when I’m right there, smack in the middle of everything? I feel like I'm screaming into a void, but also like no one would even hear me if I did. And the worst part? I don't even know how to fix it. I don't even know where to begin. It's just… a lot. And I’m so fucking tired of feeling like this.