Bile forms in my mouth. To walk down the street towards the grocery store becomes an exhaustion, not for the length I have to walk, but I have to think of how my feet balance and move, how straight my back is, does my face look alright. I merge myself, not knowing if it is the right one, hoping the stranger that will see me for three seconds will not take offense to it. And after that is done, I wonder if I somehow managed to screw up. If this stranger has walked away with an awful opinion of me. When I get to the store, I am already in an awful mood, because no matter how many attempts I have made in this routine, I still remain fearful of myself among the sea of strangers. I do not think I was born this way, but I do not know what caused me to become like this.