Have you ever been homesick for someplace that doesn't actually exist anymore? Someplace that exists only in your mind?

Even at age 10, I already knew that I was different from most people. My anxiety disorder was still years from being diagnosed, but it affected me quite deeply. I was too afraid to speak out in class, too nervous to make real friends.

I had no idea how complicated and solitary it could be to write a simple book.

Knock-knock, motherfucker.

Like books, the Internet has saved my life. It helped me recognize that so many people I adore suffer from the same things I do.

Writing is my therapy. In addition to my real therapy. God knows where I'd be without it. I'd probably still be at my last job, working in HR at a religious organization. I was horribly miscast.

There's so much shame involved in not being like everyone else. But I learned that the things that made me unique were good. Dealing with problems can be awful. But in the end I got positive results. I don't think I would have been a writer if I didn't have anxiety.