My late shift at work yesterday was spent alongside, largely, colleagues whose company is more congenial than most. I'm still left feeling, though, that I did no more than play a game of 'hide and seek' with them, trying to present my 'hail fellow, well met' facade, while feeling nothing like that inside. One of the people I was working with is a genuinely nice guy, and probably the person, of all those I work with, I would make first choice to socialise with, but he's also the father of the two boys I wrote about a while ago, and I have no doubt that if he knew, or guessed, for a second, about my predilections, I'd go straight to the top of his 'hate parade'.
This encapsulates the problem I'm faced with for 99% of my life, at least in as far as it involves interactions with other people. With, literally, only one or two exceptions, I can never be my real self with anyone. Not the people I work with, not the people I socialise with, not family, not even the person I'm married to. My closet is a very deep, dark, and virtually inescapable place. And I hate it.
Love & best wishes to all
Sammy B
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