I felt too perceived in my own house

Dear Delyara, That’s the oddest kind of tiredness. No one was actually watching me. Still, I felt watched by objects, tasks, reminders, evidence of myself. The coat, the dishes, the paper on the table, the kettle, the lamp I forgot to turn off, the room half-needing something from me. Home didn’t feel like privacy tonight. It felt like being known too accurately by my own life. I wanted one unobserved hour. I didn’t quite get it.