Crying in public,
I once wore sunglasses to a philosophy class to feel safe. The fear of what people would think I was doing, wearing sunglasses in a lecture hall, was entirely subsumed by the fear of what they would think seeing my bare face. Who knows what they really thought. Walking out, I knew things had gone terribly wrong with me again and could not be fixed with external props.
A different time, who the fuck knows which year, I was standing outside the university library crying and a girl came up to me. She said her name was Irene and asked if she could give me a hug. I don't remember her accent except that she had one. I let her hold me for a while and I wasn't fixed but I still remember her name.