If I suddenly discharged the sewer inside me, it would only lead to being treated as mad.

 If, out of nowhere, I were to lift my camouflage and shout, "I am more tired than anything," I knew they would not ask whether this came from a lack of humane needs or as an inevitable symptom of the system’s rotten nature; instead, they would ask, "What’s his problem that he’s so tired?" and they would offer only things that advise me to "keep performing my function"—because they have never experienced anything like it, for they are "normal," and because I do not resemble them, they will try to “correct” me. And even if they they won’t try to “fix” me, this inaction is almost always deliberate. That is, deep inside they always see me as “flawed,” but they just don’t reflect it outwardly. In short, I don’t believe people can listen to me—whether internally or externally—without judgment. For I knew that if I suddenly discharged the sewer inside me, it would only lead to being treated as mad. Thus began the long retreat inward.