Format the following passage properly, for storytelling purposes. Keep it as written, don't change a single word, but improve grammar where necessary.

Less is more. I've decided to try something I haven't yet given myself the luxury of doing: writing a short piece. One of my housemates emotes in the distance, a sound that usually indicates distress. We have gotten to know each other lately, and I've made an effort to get closer to her brother. It seems he is just as compelled by music as I am, and certain types of music seem to bring out a sense of excitement in him. Some time ago, in the living room, I walked by him while he was enjoying a video on his computer, a VHS rip of "Wee Sing in Sillvyille." He is a little bit older than me, though not by much; however, out of respect for not only that but his greater sense of vulnerability, I like to yield priority to him. For example, I was sitting with him in the living room yesterday afternoon. The CNA who was helping the acting house manager informed him that the time had come for him to take a shower. As I had already asked about possibly taking an early shower, before opting to wait a bit, I was asked if I wanted to go now and have my housemate go later. I yielded to the older, and more vulnerable, resident and waited my turn. This gave me an opportunity to take a look at my shampoo situation in my room. I've gotten to the point of diluting the soap with water, to stretch it out, and mixing liquids, concocting as though I were a scientist in a laboratory working with beakers. By the time I had created the 'perfect mix,' the bathroom was now vacant and I was free to go in. While heading to take a shower, I noticed the CNA helping out that day was in my housemate's room, probably dusting it off or accounting for his clothes. We made eye contact, and I asked him if it is all right to go in. He humbly said "yes," which I was glad to hear. He has been kinder to me recently, and it validates my earlier decision to reach out to the main house manager to address a few prior concerns. It takes a lot for me to speak out, more than some people realize. I never like to put myself in the place of being vulnerable, and there are a lot of other men who will undoubtedly tell you the same. The irony is that as a Libra, I am probably better built for showing vulnerability than many others. Different things bring out my romantic side, my feeling side, my nurturing side...I tend to be more emotional than logical, and my emotions are likely part of the reason why I have gotten into trouble at various times in my life. My compassion comes out when I am around certain people, because a part of me recognizes their vulnerability. Some of the folks I've met are older than me, but are childlike in so many ways. One of my coworkers lights up whenever I play his favorite music. He will smile and do all sorts of things, whether it's reflecting on his favorite things, wondering about where certain people are, moving his arms and legs, tapping his feet, snapping his fingers, swaying side-to-side or even wagging his tongue. He is so silly, and I've just come to adore him. We play and laugh together, just like small children. Unfortunately, we're surrounded by people who have different views of life. They forget that he doesn't respond well to being yelled at. His emotional noises are misconstrued as 'fake crying' by one coworker. He does have a tendency to get unfocused, so there are times where I'm left with no choice but to tell him to stop, times where I must suppress my own urge to engage him in conversations. I see him go up to people, and try to get to know them. He interacts through touch and seems to really like hugs; I've hugged him as many as five or six times in a single work shift, and I always enjoy it. (Hopefully, he enjoys it too.) Then again, as I have come to realize, I am different from quite a lot of other folks. There are times where I have to become someone I'm not, for the sake of 'keeping the peace.' I don't like telling people to be quiet, to knock it off, that now is not the time or place for something. But if I'm able to pull it off somewhat convincingly, maybe I have some of the necessary intangibles to become a good actor. My drama teacher seems to think I have a lot of potential, and one of the board members overheard me singing a portion of Nat King Cole's "L-O-V-E" (as it appears in the opening to the film "The Parent Trap"; more specifically, the 1998 remake of the 1961 original). I was reminded of what it means to be your own worst critic; I started singing the song on a whim, and don't consider myself a particularly great vocalist, but apparently she was so impressed that she wants me to try out for an upcoming talent show. To that, the answer is 'yes'! All I need is a date and a location for the audition, and barring some serious circumstances, I am more than glad to give it a go. I remember Kawamoto TAMAYO, my inspiration, the muse who lights my flame and has kept it lit for so many years, and how she has sang on a couple of occasions in the past. She sticks to backup vocals now, having delegated lead work to her longtime colleague Cyua, with whom she has collaborated for nearly twenty years as one half of the famed "Betta Flash" duo. (Well, famed to those in the know, which is not many people in Japan and even less outside of the land of the rising sun.) She never seemed to consider herself a great vocalist, but I was amazed enough by how she sang her song "Ceramic Heart" at a ZUNTATA concert in 1997--as well as her vocal performances of another song, "Blue sky as if drawn in picture"--that I wrote to her to thank her, and express a desire to meet her in person one day. She was so touched that she was moved to tears. I wish I had left it at that, but like an idiot, I kept vying to get some of her attention. It was a lesson learned, but I'm now at peace with myself after having made those mistakes. I can go back and listen to her music now, and enjoy it with the same enthusiasm I had initially had, those feelings of excitement that compelled me to want to say 'thank you.' These compulsions have gotten me in trouble, have led to bridges being burned, have made me look like an idiot to folks who I may now still be in contact with had I played my cards just a little more wisely. But if I could go back and do it again I would play those cards the very same way, for those mistakes are why I am who I am today. Each one was a teacher. Every person we meet has something to teach us, every event we experience is a form of education. More than ever before, I try to tell myself that I am worth something to the world, and to believe it with my whole heart. As I have come to realize we cannot expect encouragement or uplifting words from others, the obligation falls on me to be my own best friend. I remember that Japanese lady who gave me such sage advice, who told me my best friend is myself, and said that no matter what self I am, I should never stop reminding myself that everything is going to be okay, and give myself a hug every once in a while. She told me that her entire life changed once she started making that a habit. I've seen the effect firsthand, as it is easier for me to snap out of funks when they happen. I have never been to a 'shrink' in my life; if I have been able to go this long without doling out the cash, why start now? Why should I pay someone to pretend to care about me when I can practice self-care for free? Fantasies are wonderful, but sometimes we must wake up to reality. Writing is the best therapy.