I was at this dinner party tonight, you know? And everyone was, like, sharing these — stories, about like, their past flings and awkward dates and whatever, and I just sat there, laughing along, trying to seem engaged, but inside I was just… completely dissociating. It's like I have this whole area of human experience that’s just… missing, and it feels like a really significant data point, you know? Like, I'm 30, and it's not even a conscious choice anymore, it's just this… baseline state, and the performative aspect of pretending I understand is EXHAUSTING. (I wonder if it’s some kind of attachment thing? Or like, avoidance coping?)