“Even in the eyes that do not look at me, I suspect the mockery I consider natural, directed toward the inelegant exception that I am in a world of people who do things and enjoy themselves, and in the supposed depth of physiognomies that pass by the mocking laughter aimed at the timid gesticulation of my life, a consciousness of my life that I impose and interpose ”

The Book of Disquiet, Fernando Pessoa Recommended by Shay.

“The presence of another person - of any person whatsoever - instantly slows down my thinking, and while for a normal man contact with others is a stimulus to spoken expression and wit, for me it is a counterstimulus, if this compound word be linguistically permissible. When all by myself, I can think of all kinds of clever remarks, quick comebacks to what no one said, and flashes of witty sociability with nobody. But all of this vanishes when I face someone in the flesh: I lose my intelligence, I can no longer speak, and after half an hour I just feel tired. Yes, talking to people makes me feel like sleeping. Only my ghostly and imaginary friends, only the conversations I have in my dreams, are genuinely real and substantial, and in them intelligence gleams like an image in a mirror.

The mere thought of having to enter into contact with someone else makes me nervous. A simple invitation to have dinner with a friend produces an anguish in me that's hard to define. The idea of any social obligation whatsoever - attending a funeral, dealing with someone about an office matter, going to the station to wait for someone I know or don't know - the very idea disturbs my thoughts for an entire day, and sometimes I even start worrying the night before, so that I sleep badly. When it takes place, the dreaded encounter is utterly insignificant, justifying none of my anxiety, but next time is no different: I never learn to learn.”

The Book of Disquiet, Fernando Pessoa