I deserve to be seen.

The end of the row is a good seat. Near the door, nobody behind you, a clear line out. A lot of people take it every single time and could not entirely say why.

Wanting to be seen and dreading it are not opposites. They run on the same track, usually at the same moment. The dread is about being seen while not managing — about somebody noticing what it costs to look ordinary.

And yet the relief, when it comes, is almost always in that direction. Being known while visibly not coping turns out not to cost anything like what it was supposed to.