I want you to know I’m not ignoring you. I’m just feeling overwhelmed. And it’s not that I don’t want to talk but my head is full and there’s no space for more questions.
When I don’t say much, it’s not that I’m distracted. It’s just that the energy goes on the listening. I am – listening. I think you’re great. I love to hear how you’re thinking. And I want to give answers – good answers, as bright as your words. It just takes longer. So when I say things suddenly, they don’t come from nowhere. It’s just that in my head I never left the conversation.
I’m sorry I don’t have a name for it. Being like this. It’s not introversion or depression or a bad day or not taking meds. Those things make it harder – but I think it’s just me. I’m trying to explain it, but it’s like describing a colour. It’s just purple, that’s all.
And it’s not that I’m anti-social. I like talking but in bits. There are so many people and it’s noisy and all at once and I want to draw a circle round so I keep a little space. That’s why I sit there – in case I need to run out. I need to know there’s an exit. I need the draught so I can breathe. But I’ll always come back.
I’m sorry that I don’t like hugs. Too close andwheretoputmyhandsandwhentopullaway. But I do like you. And if you warn me in advance I might start to enjoy them. That’s a joke. I’m sorry if the timing’s wrong. (That’s why sometimes I get the silly and the serious mixed up). But I can be fun as well as serious.
Please don’t think I’m just the weird stuff. I know it gets the headlines, but there’s normal underneath. Beneath the fear and the quiet I’m not so different to you. Thank you for taking the time to find out.