While my reality has been affirmed, this subjects me to the undeniable fact I am alone.
From a technical point of view, I am not. I cohabitate, and people frequently visit the house.
But from an emotional point of view, I am in near total isolation. I rarely exchange more than a few sentences with the person I live with a day. None of the visitors are for me. I have spent years wastig away in my bedroom, and I cannot leave.
Nothing is stopping me, of course. I could open the front door, and step outside.
But I have nowhere to go.
The light blue wallpaper is beginning to peel from the walls. The window sealant needs to be replaced again. Long-abandoned cobwebs drift gently in the corners. The shelves bear pictures of better times.
The internet is a curse. It presents us a simulacra of interaction, just enough to hold our brains together, and leaves us too scared of being cut off to seek the real thing.
And yet, it's not like I have anything else.