I kept thinking that everything was all about me. ‘This is all about me, isn’t it?’ I blurted out loudly, to no one in particular. Nobody answered me however. They all just carried on with their business as if I’d never said a thing. I’d almost believe that I never had said a thing. Only I know that I had. There were trying to psyche me out. They’re playing some kind of a game with me. They were pretending that it wasn’t all about me when it clearly was. The tension was unbearable. Can you imagine living in a world where everything is all about right and wrong, where right and wrong is the only thing there is? Maybe that’s an easy thing to imagine and maybe it isn’t, right? It’s kind of hard to tell. What would it feel like? Would it be good or would it be bad? What would you think? I was on unsure ground – I didn’t really know what the right answer was. My mind was starting to play tricks on me – nothing in particular seem to be going on, and yet I kept getting this feeling that everyone was watching what I was doing. It felt like I was on TV. It felt like I was on my own TV channel. ‘I’m famous for being famous,’ I said, the understanding coming to me in bits and pieces – ‘I’m famous for being unknown, I’m famous because no one’s ever heard of me!’ Nothing at all seemed to be going on yet everything was going on – the world around me was seething with life. There were worlds within worlds within worlds. My clothes were full of fractals. It was if everything was alive – even the little particles of dust were alive. They had their own little lives to be getting on with. ‘It’s just Brownian motion,’ I told myself, but somehow I wasn’t convinced. My words lacked conviction. I didn’t know what I was talking about anyway – the words just came out of me. I was speaking out of fear. I was saying the words just for the sake of saying them. I was afraid of everything being alive and I was trying to reassure myself that my fear was unfounded. ‘There is nothing to be afraid of here’ I told myself. ‘There’s nothing to see here. There’s nothing going on here. Just move on and carry on with your business.’ The reedy, plaintiff, pitifully quavering voice that uttered these words was the Voice of Fear. Fear had a voice and it was plaintively reassuring me that everything was okay, it was assuring me that there was absolutely nothing to be concerned about. This realisation turned my guts into water. There was an awful sloshing gurgling sound from deep inside me – I could feel little icy hands of fear tugging away frantically at my insides. Life was going on all around me but at the same time I knew that I wasn’t part of it. I was excluded. I just stood there – I was like a statue. I knew that I was famous for being excluded from life, and yet at the same time I knew that nobody had ever heard of me.