So, I actually decided to talk to her. Luckily I always start conversations from triviality, because (she says) I completely misread the situation. Apparently my new friend was entirely made up. I don't mean the girl is in my imagination, I mean it was a role she plays. The role of a "god damned geisha", as he put it. She basically just picks up on whatever the other person seems to want and does that. No wonder she is depressed, I do maybe 10% of that, and I feel exhausted every time. And so, the jokes were fake, the exchanges of geek trivia were fake, the slightly embarrassing, but sweet stories of past romantic experinces were fake (or at least they would not have been offered to someone who was looking for hardcore word-porn.)
One wonders if her whole suicidal ideation shtick was also a fakery- just her idea of what my idea of depression is. Which of course it's not. Depression is not about pain and death (you're thinking of emos) it's about being too damned tired to continue. And she was lively. Damn it, it seems so obvious in retrospect- a depressed person can not be that lively, unless they are faking it for social reasons. I can not be that lively. And yet I bought it- hook, line, sinker and half the fishing rod. The trick to a good lie is that the other party wants to believe it, and I did.
Of course there is another possibility- she did see me in romantic light, but found better. And she felt sorry enough for me that she made up the whole fake connection thing. She did a good job then, I found her explanation odd, but internally consistent. It is, once again, pleasant to believe that the reason we don't talk isn't something I did, but merely a mismatch of personalities. But this time I am on my guard. Or maybe it's just not as pleasant.
(I am not sure how the whole scheduling thing works, but this post follows "Oh, memory", while also being written on the same day)
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