For real

My sister apologized for all the blackness and doom she poured out over me in whatsapp. I told her to never apologize for being real.

Almost every single person you meet in the street is fake, except for schizofrenics, people with Down syndrome, people with depressions, burn-outs.

People who either can't pretend or who simply don't have the energy to fake it. 

I asked her when she had ever been this real in her life before.
"Probably never."
So even though it doesn't feel like it, this is progress for her. Naturally she was jumping with joy upon hearing that. [/sarcasm]

I told her I'd rather talk to her while she's depressed and suicidal than with someone phony.
Then I realized that maybe my social incompetence isn't that at all. Maybe it is other people. 

Fake people drain me. What I told my sister is true: I don't know how to interact with the normals, but I can interact with people who are being real.

This is something I wanted to write down and mull over a bit. Maybe it's not me. Maybe it has never been me.