Months after the fact, it feels like I’m stalled. It went much better than it was. A few months ago, I quit antidepressants and it wasn’t even a question: I did not need them any more. On a day-to-day basis, I’m fully functional: I take care of myself, I’m having interactions with my roommate, I even workout. But having fun with friends and colleagues is not enough to hide the fact that my life goes nowhere: I had great plans about all those things I was going to do, once I’d be back in Brussels. I did exactly nothing. Health care is limited to the basic and urgent, I did not go out to meet fellow aspies, nor did I for musical purposes. I stay at home. I’m strangely compartmented: I’m not...

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