Most of the time, I am. It feels like a dullness somewhere in my chest. Sometimes it feels safe. Sometimes, when I let it, it hurts.
I choose to isolate myself, which doesn’t help. I don’t expect anyone to like me—so partly it’s a self-protective measure. I also grew up watching one person hurt those around them without being able to admit that’s what they were doing—I don’t want to be that person, but they’ve given me an awful lot of their baggage, so I’m worried I walk like them anyway, dragging the same things behind me.
Yeah, I’d say it’s a disconnect. In moments that I feel connected to someone, the dullness fades—but it’ll return shortly after. “Connectedness” never seems to last, and soon an interaction becomes more like a performance across a gap than anything close or immediate, although I also never really expect the closeness to last, and at this point the closeness is a bit painful and rather exhausting, so I keep myself distanced.
Usually it’s wanting to be part of a greater whole, and feeling horribly separate. Sometimes it’s wanting to feel like myself, especially around other people. Sometimes it’s just wanting a hug or a pat on the arm.