I'm bad at keeping people
I’m not bad at socializing. I’m not bad at making friends. But I’m bad at keeping them [laughs while rubbing sleepy eyes].
Some people are so good at keeping others—good people or bad people—in their life. Even after a bad breakup, they stay traumatized by it. I don’t even get traumatized. I just… subconsciously make distance, slowly leave their life, or stop responding. I let new things fill their life, or I introduce them to new things or people. And soon, their life gets filled by them.
here comes the million-dollar question:
Do I do this because I hate them? – No.
Do I hate myself? – [paused] I don’t know.
A few days ago, I finally figured out something: the people I like are 90% either emotionally unavailable, or too emotional in the wrong things (like love).
I was emotional too, in my mid-teens. It took me many years to realize that no one can really read my mind, and people won’t know a single thing happening inside my head if I don’t f***ing say it! (Here’s the tricky part: if you’re someone who doesn’t know much about body language, or you’re too emotional, people will notice. But if you’re like me—high-functioning, fluent in body language, and always wearing a smiling face—you know what happens.)
I’ll never forget when someone finally acknowledged this. I’ll never forget the conversation I had with her. She said, “The deal with N (another girl) is, at least when you see her, you can tell she’s depressed. But with you, it’s nearly impossible to guess.”
[laughed again] I remember, I almost cried hearing this from her. And at her words, I finally accepted that side of me—the side that always yearns for a person who can understand me, these little mind games. I have accepted that I’m so good at this game, no one can keep up with me. If I hide myself, not a single soul can figure me out. And I’m getting tired of searching for that one soul. Maybe that soul is already gone, and I’m destined to never find it.
Reading this, maybe you’ll think I hide my depression [chuckles]. But that’s not the case. I just don’t share my darkness. I don’t talk about those days of feeling nothing. I don’t stop encouraging others positively just because I’m feeling negative inside. I don’t speak when I know I’ll get no solution.
I’m bad at words. I’m more of a listener. And I fear… maybe I’ll stay a listener forever.