i know them, and i hear their voices. My own voice responds automatically, giving an opinion du jour, a carefully thought-out statement which i keep carefully distant from myself. i can participate in their conversation -- but it remains (at least, to me) their conversation. i never feel as though i am really talking to them; i merely blend my voice into their silences.

They laugh; i never know when to laugh. i think i think too hard. As they speak, i spend so much time and effort concentrating on how i should respond that i forget to respond at all. i join in the laughter a beat too late. They might not even notice. But i notice, and i am ashamed.

It seems i can never let go, never delve beneath the surface of myself, or of others, or even of a conversation. Always i am holding back, keeping myself to myself...Is it fear? Perhaps, although i do not know what makes me so afraid. Am i unable to feel emotions, to connect? My life is so dramatic -- i am such a passionate person inside the solitude of my mind. But the passion seems to be trapped forever beneath the surface -- so no one will ever know that it is there. Sometimes, even i don't know if it is there.

Voices fade to the background; i am submerged in myself. i try -- desperately, i try -- to focus on a voice and pull myself out. But the sounds slip away from me, leaving me helpless, reaching out and clutching at -- nothing. A tapestry of voices settles around me like a blanket. They start to laugh. Again, i missed the cue. A beat too late, my laughter joins theirs.