I Feel Like I Don't Belong Anywhere
I thought I would be motivated to begin participating again after posting yesterday for the first time in months, but scrolling through the questions and stories here has left me with the bitter taste of disenchantment discouraging me from trying. It's not necessarily due to quality or tact, but rather it's the systemic theme that permeates through the assembly of text people release into the world. I can't really see the posts as isolated musings and standalone questions seeking perspectives and resolutions. I can't simply answer a question without being subdued by the underlying intent. Left and right; up and down; the undertone screams and drowns out the superficial words intended as its proxy.
People come here because they're vying for attention. They want to be heard. Want to feel special. Relevant. Significant. Loved. In absence of therapy, this format serves as a rudimentary surrogate for them to get a brief taste of fulfillment. This website serves as an anchor that keeps people from floating away into the frigid waters of isolation.
A website of this structure only exists for one reason: to allow people to be heard. To give them the opportunity, however temporary, to feel important or valuable. Despite the near total anonymity of the thousands of members here, people keep coming back because the loose network of pseudonyms and faceless profiles provides just enough of a semblance to a community. To a support system. To an audience.
Obviously I can't speak for every single user, but the hidden intentions behind the majority of posts here are far from subtle. They scream, they beg to be noticed. Some louder than others, but none quiet enough to continue ignoring.
And through it all, I can't help but throw my voice into the cacophony. To relinquish myself into the ever-deepening abyss of the nameless hoping to be saved. To lose myself in the unyielding flood of words calling out for attention. And I'm not the only one.
I recognize so many familiar faces that were here when I left a few months ago. Many of those familiar faces are still here from when I joined a little over a year ago. I can't decide whether it's discouraging or comforting to see all those people still waiting to have their needs fulfilled. That seems to be another common theme here: waiting.
Behind every optimistic ending and hopeful spirit is the willingness to wait. I can't say I'm not guilty of this myself. Though the realities of life ensure an inherent difficulty in receiving instant gratification, the acquiescent acceptance of indefinite waits is deeply troubling. It's a passive approach to life fueled by the delusional assumption that good things manifest themselves spontaneously and bequeath themselves to people solely to reward their patience.
And while I understand that patience is necessary in the pursuit of satisfaction, the key word there is 'pursuit'. For those simply waiting, the question needs to be asked: how long? There are many of us, myself included, who have been using this site or sites like this one for years. Trying to abate the creeping despair tethering us to this veneer of community. Realistically, how often does one need to be heard before they're satisfied enough to retire their voice?
Or can it be that we're looking for something more meaningful than being heard? That we put ourselves out there to let the universe know that we're waiting, hoping, for something incredible to happen. Leaving our real-world selves to rot while our digital selves continue onward in vain. Leaning on the crutch of obscurity to say the things we're too afraid to admit anywhere else. As if the mere verbalization of our needs persuades luck to favor our plight.
It's hard to be a member of this site, knowing full well that happy and satisfied people could never entertain a hobby like this for so long. People are here overwhelmingly to fill the hole in their lives that keeps them from going out and living. Seeing these questions and stories and how they all beg for attention is disillusioning. And yet I can't extricate myself from the crowd; posting this here without ever really addressing the irony. Falling in line with the rest of the nameless, faceless deluge of profiles all competing for the chance to feel special.
Anyways, enough of that. Here's a bit of levity to balance things out:
People come here because they're vying for attention. They want to be heard. Want to feel special. Relevant. Significant. Loved. In absence of therapy, this format serves as a rudimentary surrogate for them to get a brief taste of fulfillment. This website serves as an anchor that keeps people from floating away into the frigid waters of isolation.
A website of this structure only exists for one reason: to allow people to be heard. To give them the opportunity, however temporary, to feel important or valuable. Despite the near total anonymity of the thousands of members here, people keep coming back because the loose network of pseudonyms and faceless profiles provides just enough of a semblance to a community. To a support system. To an audience.
Obviously I can't speak for every single user, but the hidden intentions behind the majority of posts here are far from subtle. They scream, they beg to be noticed. Some louder than others, but none quiet enough to continue ignoring.
And through it all, I can't help but throw my voice into the cacophony. To relinquish myself into the ever-deepening abyss of the nameless hoping to be saved. To lose myself in the unyielding flood of words calling out for attention. And I'm not the only one.
I recognize so many familiar faces that were here when I left a few months ago. Many of those familiar faces are still here from when I joined a little over a year ago. I can't decide whether it's discouraging or comforting to see all those people still waiting to have their needs fulfilled. That seems to be another common theme here: waiting.
Behind every optimistic ending and hopeful spirit is the willingness to wait. I can't say I'm not guilty of this myself. Though the realities of life ensure an inherent difficulty in receiving instant gratification, the acquiescent acceptance of indefinite waits is deeply troubling. It's a passive approach to life fueled by the delusional assumption that good things manifest themselves spontaneously and bequeath themselves to people solely to reward their patience.
And while I understand that patience is necessary in the pursuit of satisfaction, the key word there is 'pursuit'. For those simply waiting, the question needs to be asked: how long? There are many of us, myself included, who have been using this site or sites like this one for years. Trying to abate the creeping despair tethering us to this veneer of community. Realistically, how often does one need to be heard before they're satisfied enough to retire their voice?
Or can it be that we're looking for something more meaningful than being heard? That we put ourselves out there to let the universe know that we're waiting, hoping, for something incredible to happen. Leaving our real-world selves to rot while our digital selves continue onward in vain. Leaning on the crutch of obscurity to say the things we're too afraid to admit anywhere else. As if the mere verbalization of our needs persuades luck to favor our plight.
It's hard to be a member of this site, knowing full well that happy and satisfied people could never entertain a hobby like this for so long. People are here overwhelmingly to fill the hole in their lives that keeps them from going out and living. Seeing these questions and stories and how they all beg for attention is disillusioning. And yet I can't extricate myself from the crowd; posting this here without ever really addressing the irony. Falling in line with the rest of the nameless, faceless deluge of profiles all competing for the chance to feel special.
Anyways, enough of that. Here's a bit of levity to balance things out:
