(originally written on 4 Sep, edited till published)
In reality, there is no real me. I change depending on where I am and who I’m around. I act and speak differently, and sometimes it feels like I don’t even know which version is the closest to the truth. People might say, “Everyone does that these days,” and maybe they’re right. But with me, it feels a little different.
I lose interest in people quickly. One day I’m there, listening, talking, maybe even laughing with them, and the next day I feel nothing. That’s when I cut them off. It happens so naturally that I can’t fully explain it. It’s not hatred, it’s not anger, it’s not even disappointment. It’s just this pull inside me that says, “enough.” I know it’s not really “me,” but something else I can’t control. At the same time, sometimes it feels completely okay, like I’m protecting myself without even trying.
The contradiction is that I’m an introvert, yet I don’t always act like one. When I’m out, I can be open, social, even loud if I want to. At the last concert I went to, I didn’t really care for the music. I just stood there, drifting into conversations, laughing at things, joining in. And then, as soon as those conversations turned into “friendship,” I cut them off. Just like that.
It might sound harsh, but to me, cutting people off isn’t wrong. It’s not illegal. It’s not embarrassing. It’s just what I do. And maybe that’s all right.