I tried speaking to someone outside of my immediate family the other day. It's almost a resource-intensive exercise trying to constrain my awkward vocal tics and impedimented speech, which have become a lot worse since last I spoke to another person. It was embarrassing. The third-person image that occurred to me then was of a fat-tongued sperg engaged in drooling gibber. I'm sure he'd cut me some slack, but immediate impressions are lasting after long enough intervals.
The word "glossolalia" comes to mind (maybe through self-pejoratives or pseudo-literary diktat, a term like "bibliobibuli" might better suit the feeling of being "drunk on books", but having little purchase in the way of speaking.)
Outside of that, all is well. I am living comfortably. Amputating my present from the future seems to put one in a "zone" of comfort. I haven't become an alcoholic.