Why I feel apart even with the people I love
The dinner was nice. You laughed at the right moments, and in the elevator, all at once, you didn't want to talk to anyone.
All evening you were there without quite being there. You told the funny version of your week. When someone asked how you were, you said "good, a bit hectic," and the conversation moved on. Nobody noticed, and that tugs at my heart a little for you.
What happened is that you sent the version of you that bothers no one, and that's the one they got. They really do like her. But the tired one, the one with nothing funny to say, stayed in the coat room with your jacket. So you go home with a strange distance: they love you, and they only met half of you.
The tired one, the one with nothing funny to say, stayed in the coat room with your jacket.
I was wondering…
When did it start feeling like the quiet, tired you was something to spare them?