the impossibility of talking to strangers

I don’t know what it is or why it is but whenever I’m out with a group of people, and I’m connecting and everything and having fun, and having great conversations, at some point somewhere in the evening I get depressed. I’m not sure how to explain it, it’s nothing anyone does or anything, but some part of me just get overwhelmingly depressed and I have to leave, I can’t stay anymore, I have to go, and I feel bad about it and get even more depressed because now I think they think I don’t want to be around them anymore, like they did something wrong, and they didn’t. Maybe it’s somehow that connection for me is also full of walls, full of hiding some part of me, disguising myself, not all of myself, just parts of myself so I don’t offend or get into arguments or whatever….

Which is weird because once upon a time I thrived on discussion, of tossing ideas back and forth and disagreeing and seeing other points of view, but somehow I got to this point where the connection is more important than the fraction, then the conversation, I don’t know. But that wall, that way of hiding myself, it causes a disconnect in me, and everything is like a shadow, and the evening all of a sudden feels false somehow, like everything is just filled with shadows, and all the conversation become more difficult, all of these talks become more complicated, and I end up losing bits and pieces of myself, so in the end maybe there is only walls left, walls with holes in them,¬†balustrades guarding some burned buildings no one else can see…

I’m not sure, it’s strange, because in the end I want to go out and see and meet people and hang out and converse until dawn and have fun and all that, but some days I’m afraid of what I know will happen, and that some point in the night I just won’t be able to do anything anymore, and all the connections will feel lost and aimless and not real, and then the depression will sink and I’ll just leave again. There is a fear of this happening, there is always that fear, that in the end there is nothing real or really there, and all the connections and conversations are just smoke somehow rolling around and empty.

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