Testosterone Prison, and the Sibling Invasion

I am feeling trapped in a testosterone prison. I don't know why people keep wanting me to be that person. He was so angry.

I am letting the testosterone win the facial hair battle for now, but I am planning a major campaign to strap each one of them into the electric chair and fry them like butter in a lava pit.

That assault is part of what I discuss with my therapist. She seems to think my agoraphobia, social anxiety, and touch phobia might be in the way of me waging that war. She is clearly on the follicles' side for now. I am hoping she is a double agent and will sneak me military secrets later.

My brother announced a sneak attack of his own. Is it a sneak attack with a month's warning? Anyway, this is my story, so it is. He has decided to come up for a visit and see his work friends and, apparently, me—though I think friends are people that don't wish you harm or something. I need a dictionary.

I tried to explain that due to my agoraphobia I am prone to spontaneous combustion when I go outside, but he isn't taking no for an answer. When we talk, I feel like an evil spy wearing the worst disguise that he can't see through. This spy work makes me feel guilty, but I am not ready to remove my disguise yet.

Useless recap:

• Trapped in a testosterone prison.
• Follicles have been put on notice.
• Therapist is suspected of colluding with my mortal enemy.
• The brother is planning an invasion of my isolation.

Disclaimer: I know what a friend is, I have seen the show. Please don't sue me NBC.