I felt so happy when I arrived back in Brussels from Antwerp, but by the end of my stay that happy feeling had long since dissipated. Now I feel miserable and ashamed and depressed. I don’t like to be known. I don’t like having to tell my mother anything about my life. I resent ever having to share what is going on inside my head with anyone else. For me, having to talk is like having my teeth pulled. So I shut people out, and loathe myself for doing so. Like I shut Clarisse out in Brussels. Like I shut the Waterloo Station café girl out before I even boarded the train to Brussels.
The Stripper 