When I was younger there were parts of my world that bothered me. I wasn’t sure how to face them, and before I knew it I had built a room for myself in my head

It had windows but the shades were typically drawn. Sound didn’t carry in so well from the outside, but in it were all the words and books and songs that I loved, and possibly the world’s most comfortable couch

As I got older, it got easier and easier to slip in and out of that room. It became more and more reflexive, like blinking, or breathing. The way your heart beats without you ever asking it to

And I work hard most times to keep myself present. But every now and then, maybe I’m near the end of a stressful day or in heavy anticipation of something to come, and I’ll be in conversation with people I care very much about, and it will occur at some point to the both of us that I haven’t heard anything they’ve said at all

They get frustrated and offended and say this makes them feel like they’re unimportant to me, that I don’t care. But that’s not true at all. And I don’t know how to explain to them where it is I go when I can’t hear them, even though they’re standing right next to me.