“I try to make new friends, but I don’t know how it works. I was such a recluse for so long. I took Prozac, and it worked for a year, and then it stopped. I think I did more that year, but I lost it.” He looked at me curiously. He was sad and sweet-natured and intelligent – clearly a lovely person, as someone said to him that evening – but he was gone. “How do you meet people, besides here?” And before I could answer, he added, “And once you’ve met them, what do you talk about?”
I think back on things that happened. I bet you think you can pinpoint where it started for her. It’s easy to think that, when you look back at something as a whole. But when you’re living it, day by day, it’s like you’re in the belly of something and you can’t see it’s whole shape from the inside.
