August 21, 2020:
I like being near people but it's difficult to talk.
My neighbors in exile may conclude I'm unsociable. Reality is that my tongue does not work. Whether artifact of depression or of meds I can't say, only that when they greet me with "Hello!" I nod or wave but try not to engage.
I'm no longer sure how long I've lived in isolation. My memories of recent time seem cloudy. I think there are gaps.
I'm here now, working on projects, running up my credit card, escaping poison smoke. As long as no-one forces me to speak to people I believe all is well.