Conversation is, in some ways, at the heart of what it means to be human. Or perhaps it's better to say the "heart" of humanity is like it's biological counterpart and contains several distinct chambers, each one vital to the functioning of the whole, and conversation (or interpersonal connection in general) is one of these chambers. I'd argue self-knowledge (which I have far more of) is another, and maybe something like worldly perspective and physical being could be slotted in to round out the quartet.

Whatever, that wasn't my point. My point is that conversation is important. Crucial even, maybe. The ability and opportunity to connect with another person, or people, and both share some of what you are while absorbing even a sliver of them. . . How can a person properly exist lacking that? How can you understand yourself --know your own face, properly hear your own voice, etc-- without someone to, at least in part, reflect it back to you?

Some people will know what I'm talking about. That feeling of having something to say, but no one to say it to, so you often end up saying nothing. The feeling of *feeling* something so strongly, but like lightning with no conductor in sight it fizzles out slowly inside you, no contact made. There is a piece of living, a piece of *me*, that I don't think can be experienced without someone else to live it with.

People talk about finding their puzzle piece. People also talk about having chemistry. These are good metaphors, but not perfect. Where I think they lack is implying a completion once the "missing piece" is successfully found. The puzzle of my life would not be completed were I to "find my missing piece"; nor would the chemical equation of my life be solved to stability were I to add the perfect reactant. It's more like...

It's like I am burdened, held in, by a series of many locks. And simultaneously, I carry a massive ring of keys. Some of my keys open some of my locks, and I have been opening them consistently all my life. The further I move, the more I live, the more I see of me. But, try as I might, some (many?) of the keys I carry do not open the locks that hold me in. But everyone else carries keys as well, and I've been lucky enough to meet some people whose keys fit my locks. Connections and conversations that bring something out of me, free another piece of me from behind one of those seals I could not open alone.

So I suppose what I am looking for is someone else with the keys that open my locks, and whose locks might fit my keys. Some of them, at least. Because they're heavy, and it's always better to be free.

p.s. I recognize this post arguably tells you little about who I actually am. But I'd argue back that how many pets I have (1 perfect dog) and what I do for a living (part dsp, part janitor), and whether I prefer Breaking Bad or Young Sheldon (who can choose) matter far less for showing who I actually am than this. This^ is what I am.