I don’t know how to be social, or someone who is considered fun at random. The truth is I was brought up in a very serious environment full of books and mythical landscapes. I lived in the narratives of others in different countries and timelines. Some of that has moved from pages to real life people– I like being their surface friend because I don’t think I have what it takes to go deeper in without ruining everything with my hasty clumsy approach, my childish excitement & neurotic paranoia. I forgot how to be young so I couldn’t be fun, I had to grow up fast and go deep. I retrieved a fair bit but must learn to live with the fact that most of it never came back. This isn’t a disclaimer, but I suppose it could function as a sort of explanation, or a warning. Above all, this is a reminder for myself to not try so hard at being what I’m not, and not to get carried away, since I dislike the extra attention.