Extrinsic to the Assemblage

Here I stand, before the laptop, softly illuminated by the screen, going cold. Not sleeping yesterday must have really addled by brains, or my hormones are rollarcoastering around until I start my .
I have always felt third-wheelish. In any situation with a group of familiar people, I find myself at odds, in an awkward, vaguely unwelcoming way, shunted from everyone. Perhaps I'm just messed up, keeping everyone at arms length. You know how sensitive I am. Or maybe I really...don't belong.
Even being in the same room, my room, with two people, it's as if an invisible glass door has been drawn between myself and the rest of the room. people seem to click better with everyone else but me. I am a rock, I am an island, yeah yeah, I really should be used to this, an only child, a sheltered child, a shy and awkward child, but my capacity for self-pity is neverending.
I had intended to moan about this, but wheedling about this to the faceless internet just makes me annoyed at myself. Blahblahblah, 'therapeutic' to write about this, express my feelings, keep in the practice of writing. Really, what am I doing? Making sure I sleep easier?
Ha!
As if letting it all out here means I get to deflate like a balloon and lie shriveled in bed, sleeping peacefully. I am far too...overthinking about this to slag this out and prepare to see the end of it. Note to self, blog does not cauterize your feelings, but is merely a trick mirror, showing you both how you want to appear, and how silly you are too.

Augh, I need sleep.