Once upon a time there was a little lonely boy who didn't understand people. This boy wasn't talented in any sort of way. He had no way of coping with his lonely exsistance so he dedicated his time to observing people. As he grew older he became frustrated that he could not retain his learnings of the nuances of human interaction. Other loners on the sidelines tried to connect with him and they formed loose bonds only tied by their common interests or circumstances. The boy became sad when he realized that his memories of the time he shared with others felt flat and two-dimensional. He became angry that these memories faded out of existence faster than he aged. The boy's name is William and now he is twenty three. William has chronic persistent lymes disease. This means that he has daily headaches that throw him into blood curdling rage. His dementia-like memory loss brings him soul crushing nostalgia for shadowy memories that have no depth, outline, or context. When he tries to remember most events what comes out is a wire frame of archetype defined cliches instead of real memories. This invisible disability means that most of his family cannot comprehend the life he lives. Even what usually fills the hole in the souls of most dysfunctional adults have no effect on William. The Mountain of books he has read were of no use to a brain dead man-child. The paints his mother bought go to waste because he can't remember techneques to twist the brush. The countless youtube Playlists he wove to try to immortalize his years of internet use disintegrate due to copyright claim fraud and terms of service changes. He wonders why everyone around him doesn't show that they know that everything that makes us who we are will be gone one day. He wonders why his identity dosen't seem to exist in his mind. He wonders why he can't even live with the illusion of a self image.