There's a lot of horrible stuff going on in the world, and they make my own concerns seem trivial and insignificant. I don't know whether to continue dwelling on the mess that's inside my head, or turn my attention outward.

I feel like my inner world is collapsing, burying along with it my now-dwindling tendency to introspect, imaginary strangers and incidents and nooks and crannies, the little things I used to collect in my metaphorical pocket and treasure like rare keys to the alien outside world ...

Is this what they call "growing up"?