Forget the reasons. Here’s what it is. It is the fear of meeting someone who recognises me; friend , acquaintance, colleague, shopkeeper family ormirror. The thought of eye contact with any of them sends a strike to the core. I am not sure Jean Paul Sartre had depression in mind but “Hell is other people” typifies the anti-social modus operandi. Not that “other people” are to blame. If hell is other people then heaven should be
total isolation shouldn’t it?
To justify isolation gorge on destructive debilitating thoughts that will render an inability to face anyone at anytime, the horror of it. The perverse need to break off all relationships is both selfish and selfless. Selfless because it is a way to shield other people from the darkness. Selfish because the darkness is all mine.
Where is this behaviour leading. After cradling these thoughts tonight I found myself surrounded by television cameras and technicians, sat on a couch facing Clive Anderson for an hour’s television show on sky arts. The studio is built outside of the fourth plinth on Trafalgar square in the pulsating heart of London.
I watch the technicians count down and then were live on air.