I can write, but I can’t speak. I don’t know why that is. Maybe my thoughts are too fast, or too slow—I keep pushing the thread forward, constantly continuing, which makes it impossible for me to stop and summarize. I can keep going, I can feel, but I can’t summarize. I can describe, I can speculate, but I seem to lack intuition. Or maybe, my intuition has taught me not to trust it. Everything my intuition has ever told me—I always thought was wrong. At the very least, that’s what I was always told.

On one hand, I often get knocked down by my own emotions. My emotions are always fast, and honest. When they come, they hit hard—so hard I can’t focus on anything outside. And when they leave, they take all my energy with them. It’s kind of like a migraine. When I watch Daiga having a migraine, it feels kind of like how I react to emotions. I used to think his migraines were psychological, not physical, but he seems to disagree. It’s the weather, he says.

When I’m around people, or interacting with people in a crowd, I often experience sensory overload. I don’t know why. Maybe it’s because of new environments—too much stimulation all at once. A lot was changing at the time, in every possible way. I felt like I lost all my references for a while, just floating in a haze. I wasn’t sure what I was doing each day, or how to express myself, or how to communicate with others. It still affects me now. I don’t think I used to talk that much before, and I haven’t talked much since. If it weren’t for that period, I wouldn’t have realized how little I actually speak. But really, it’s because—I don’t know how to speak.