It is becoming clear the moments in my life when I am confused are when I feel most like myself. Those are the only times when the detachment I’ve always felt make sense, an ironic justification for remaining inside: Our minds cannot handle reality, so we all live in a bubble of perception, each disconnected from the world. Confusion is rebuttal of the union when our distinct reality intersects another. We usually react to its discomfort, but the wise recognize it as a signal, and act on its behalf.