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I am not sure how to start this. For quite some time now, I have felt ambiguous towards the FDR community. On one hand, I see the community as one of the most beautiful things on this planet, if not the most beautiful. The honest, kind people it is inhabitated by. The flourishing of ideas, the unwavering support to eachother, is beyond words. But, on the other hand, I feel like I am not part of it. That I am alien to it. That my interactions here, from my side, are false, self-serving, vain, evil. Sure, some of it has been self-serving, and yes, some vanity has driven me here. But it isn't core to WHY I am here, it is a sandcastle on a beach, that I am certain of. But, a part of me blows these acts of vanity and self-serving out of porportion, judging me as sinister, as not worthy of being in this community. Although, I think to myself, I am not engaging a whole lot with the community. Is it then really that weird if I don't feel like I am a part of it? And then I realize, after a while, something I have concluded before: I am afraid of trying to connect with people, both in real life and here on the boards. Several factors play into this. For one, I find it hard to empathize with people. Like, sometimes, if I hear of something terrible someone has been through, I feel next to nothing. And I understand that others DO feel something in response to hearing the same thing I am hearing (happens a lot when Stef is talking with callers). And I hear a voice say ''You are a broken human being! Disgusting.'' Based on that, I deduct that I will have a harder time connecting with people, because I cannot fully sympathize with them. Another part of it, is me fearing to talk with people in general. When I think of doing just that, I hear inside myself, that I will not bring anything of worth to the table. That I will waste the other persons time. This is reflected greatly in my life, where I might want to engage in conversation with someone I know or want to get to know, but I do not dare. ''Maybe they are busy, I shouldn't disturb.'' Or, ''If they wanted to talk with me, they'd start talking to me''. Anyway, it really hit me yesternight. I broke down into absolute despair, crying like I have never cried in my life before, for an hour, truly realizing that I want to be part of this community, so badly. But that I feel like I am unable to acomplish it. That either I will keep myself from trying to be a part of the community, or attack myself when I try to be a part of the community. And it was tearing me apart, still is. Because I want it so badly. I connection, real, deep connection, with this community. Because, the people that it is made out of, are so wonderful, so brave, so honest. And I so want to be a part of that. I can feel the tears well up behind my eyes as I am writing this. I want it so much. And the thought of never feeling like I was connected to this oasis of human goodness, going to the grave without having had that, is so grim, is so terrifying. Before, when I have experienced these feelings, heard these thoughts, I have 99% of the time, went into solitude. Tried to find my answers in logic, in books. Numbed the pain with video games, and with embracing the voices telling me that I am broken, that I am forever lost. That strategy, of isolating when feeling isolated, has not worked so far. So that's why, I now reach out, put out my emotional state, my thoughts, and my feelings. Hoping that I can break my loneliness. Something that has crossed my mind, is that ''Maybe I don't know how to connect with people? Maybe I don't speak that language. That I can only connect if others engage me first, that I just know how to be passive and reactionary?'' I don't know whether this is true or not. The title just came to me. Yesternight, in my despair, something came to me: Maybe, I am having a Simon the boxer experience, but instead of boxing, I am isolating myself from others? It makes some sense to me. For 10 years of my life, from the age 6 to 16, I was bullied, both verbally and physically, but mostly verbally. From age 10, I started to actively avoid people. I worked hard to make as little noise as possible, to avoid being noticed by bullies. And home was my sanctuary, where I was free from school-bullies, free to numb the pain with hours upon hours of video games. But no connection. My mom was, and still is, a selfish, cruel, sadistic, evil women, who'd make fun of me, make fun of my preferences, and yell at me. And my father, he acted as if I didn't exist. Unless he felt like I needed to be put to work, because he thought In was lazy. I have known, for all of my existence, there has been only one thing that has been a constant for my father: That he has always, always been a disapointment to him. That I have always failed him. it's always been there, in the background, in his eyes and in his voice. I noticed that I didn't describe my feelings for my father as I did with my mother. Or, rather, the truth about who he is. I don't know why. Maybe I am still chained to him emotionally in some way, because the words don't seem to come as easy to me when I am writing about him. I am sorry if this post is confusing. I am, myself, feeling all over the place while I am writing this. If you have made it this far, thank you. Really. It's a lot of text. I hope that this can set me on the path of understanding this part of my being. If you feel that I have missed an obvious important point/connection/contradiction, whatever it might be, please, feel free to be as honest with me as you possibly can. This is me, breaking my emotional isolation.