On making friends and giving a damn

I’m not really looking for new friends, nor do I really care what people think of me.

However I’ve always looked on at those connected by the Internet with the sort of envy I felt looking at the popular kids in the school yard. And much like St Andrews, all those years ago, I don’t actually care that i’m not part of it, that I don’t know the connection everyone is clearly enjoying.

But I am curious.

Those few times I was given access to, and from, ‘The Chosen’, I realised that it was just as empty – emptier, even – than what I felt on the other side of the glass. I saw that the experience of being it: popular, well dressed, well equipped… just being liked, came with the same sense of emptiness that my own geekdom, queerness and being on the outer did.

It just gave you the unique capacity to feel a bit better about it all, momentarily, by holding hands with others while you stepped on the less popular people’s proverbial faces.  And to fill the remaining time with pointless gossip, interaction. A noisy nothingness I could never find a comfortable place with.

And that was enough to make me realise that not only was “the other side” – my side – of the glass better, but that there was no reason to actually look through it. Humanity is as bleak or as miserable as you make it, and playing into any sort of social hierarchy only seemed to end up focused on the miserable, or making misery, to ease our own adolescent ennui.

Anyhow, i’m getting off point.

Since joining Twitter seriously I feel a sliver of that same desire to be one of them. But the them aren’t just the dumb people who lucked out in a lottery of looks or social ease. They’re generally outgoing, hard working and well applied. They’ve spent time and energy on themselves, they’ve made themselves interesting. It’s a less focused, more chaotic insight into the social structure people engage in, but its still evokes moments of exclusion and sadness in me. At least among some of the cliques I’ve found myself looking in on, unable to engage with for my own sense of social retardation, lack of worth.

But much like my bank account saddens me, I’m reluctant to really do anything about it. If i wanted to be outgoing, or interact, I could. I have things to say, and for a while there were more fully tweaked 140 character posts and replies abandoned than there were those actually put out there. It’s all a reminder of how little faith I have in myself, how much time i spend over thinking anything/everything…and also how content I am in this well formed rut I find myself.

I suppose this mark on the post is more a mark on the hamster wheel. I’ve written this a hundred time, about a hundred different social groups. The conclusion is often the same.

I’m just happy to be happy with what i’ve got, the grass will always be greener in places I think I might want to walk.

We are all, pretty much, the same.


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