At such times, all I seek is a "listener". Someone who would listen; listen to all that I have to say but not judge, not comment, not reason, not explain, not console, not argue ; but just listen and from time-to-time just nod or make a sign to show that there is still someone listening to me.
If only there was such a listener, I'd talk; talk about anything and everything in this world, in my life and in everyone else's life. From the big-bang theory to doomsday, from string theory to rocket science, from Genetics to Psychology to Computer Science, from friends to parents, from my heart to brain, my past to aspirations, from success to my regrets, from sense to non-sense; just about anything.
I don't know if that will help, but such moments are rare but definitely not short-lived. And when significant time has passed without such a listener, the desire seems to fade out, as if on losing hope to ever finding such a listener.
At some stages of this feeling, I wonder how easy it would be to get high; how good an excuse it would be to just let out your emotions and not be taken seriously; how good an excuse to just laugh, or cry, or scream, or shout. But what separates me from attaining it is just one simple promise, a promise to no-one else but myself, and that makes it harder.