Sometimes you meet someone, out in the pub, surrounded by noise and chatting at ten miles an hour. They’re a bit gobby, they’re making too many jokes, and you know it’s not real. You wonder what they’re like when they’re on their own, and whether they are sad.
You can see that most of the people around them haven’t noticed, because they are having fun. Or they have noticed, but it’s harder to ask if that person is alright than it is to keep up the banter. If they ask, they don’t know what answer they’ll get. It might ruin the party.