More evidence:

You know when you are driving or riding in the car, and the sky is getting dim and you look out the front window and there are not trees or buildings to block the view and it goes on and on, and there are clouds that are low enough and dark enough that you are tricked for a minute into thinking that they are distant hills and you wonder when you will get there (by this time you are realising your mistake) and what it will be like on the other side?

I still think about that sometimes. It still fools me every now and then. And I think if only that really was a place you could go to. Except I feel an idiot thinking that. And I have never said a word about it to anyone because, pretty as the idea was in my mind, it always sounded dumb to me, even when I was a kid. And now, what? There isn't anybody to say things like that to. Nobody I know would want to go someplace like that.

I regret already that I will post this, and all it will do is serve to make me feel sad.

I must be crazy.

I was thinking off and on that it would be nice to go back, not to when I used to often imagine going back to, but to when it was awful. I want to go back to when it was awful. I'd go back and be in that windowless, underground classroom and sit with my head on my arms and I would be listening to these songs and feeling like the ache in my chest would probably kill me and my muscles would all hurt because I was always so cold and so exhausted that, after a while, I would start shaking and couldn't stop, so I would tense up bit by bit to try and subdue it. And I could not. And then I would go next door and key in my code for the radio studio (which I still know), and spend the next four hours in that dim, musty room, playing Goth tracks and watching the lava lamp. Or reading Shakespeare and critical essays on Farewell to Arms when I was behind. And on the worst days I would leave a voicemail and the ink would run on my writing paper.
At least it was better than when I couldn't cope anymore and came in early to show I was there, loaded the cues, and pretended to sleep at the lightboard until it was actually time for show setup, just because I wanted to be around people and couldn't bear the idea of interacting with them. They knew I wasn't really a theatre person, but they were kind to me and that's really all I cared about.

And I feel now and then like it would be nice to go back.

I guess I have always been crazy.