Plop goes the stone

Today, I flickered again. I was feeling fine, all good, at my place, for a while. And then it happened and switched the light off. Once more. Doubting. Echos all around me. Feeling like I'm stuck knee deep in the mud, any movement painfully slow an rather vain. My body and mind telling me that nothing will get me out of it. It's forever. Again. Except that I know I will. Get out of it. At one point, something else will switch the light back on. Again. Just so. And I'll feel good, at my place. Accepted. Belonging. Until another minor detail occurs, that does not fit in with other people's idea of normal. Or of good. Of achievement. Or mine, for that matter. There will be an awkward silence. Embarrassed glances, looking away. And I'll scream inside, smiling a fake smile until I'm out of sight, out of earshot to not overhear any of it. Letting my imagination run wild and tears down my face. Back to my mud. How do people manage to stay in a group? How do people manage to have a random number of conversations without saying that one thing that tilts it all upside down and instantly pushes you away, by nonverbal unanimous consent, like the waves from a stone thrown in a puddle. Flowing outwards, however you'd like it. It would be nice to bask a little longer in the sun with the other people, to bath a little more in the warm sea with them. But plop. And the waves. Waves goodbye. Waves hello when the shore is reached and pushes back in, to the center. Where I can be me with the others. For a short while. Enjoying it all. Scared of losing it all. The flicker of a light. On, off, in, out. It is still me. Me.