“There are only two kinds of people in the world,” I tell my friend as we hike a dusty trail above the Flathead Valley in Montana last summer. “Me, and everybody else. That’s what nobody gets.” I try to explain how much work I put into interacting with other people—with anyone. I tell her how much energy goes into processing even the most minor conversation. I’m not usually this frank about what goes on inside my head; better that people don’t know.