Isolation

But physical isolation has never =been= the issue.  All those years I spent alone, I spent alone not because I lacked the opportunity to come face to face with others, but simply because no one else cared about the same things, in the same ways.  The loneliness of being a creator, of having interests that others shared neither a passion for nor the work ethic for.  Growing up, I wasn't the only one who played video games, but somehow I seemed to be the only one who =understood= them.

The necessity of clinging to the past.  The importance of routine.  The ability to follow through.  The mental aptitude to research, experiment, practice, and learn.  Even those who shared my interests were never able to become my peers.  As I learned, on my own, to develop games, to compose music, to create pixel art, to play, to create, to perform, and practice, in the end it was only me.  To say nothing of the alttpr runs, the puyo chain practice sessions, the poi moves, the glowsticking sessions.  If I had ever been one to be motivated by social energy and community, I would have given up on all of these things long, long ago.

That is not to say that these communities do not exist, or thrive, even.  But it is all but impossible, or perhaps not even desirable at times, for me to find them and seek them out.  Such is the plight of the ISFJ in tech, the antisocial social dancer, the game developer who does not attend GDC, ...

But this, at least, is a place where the internet has helped people like me find like-minded others.  Not even just to be part of a community, but at the very least to share knowledge, to learn from others, and to feel that you are not alone in your pursuits.  I do One Hour Compo every week for myself, not for the community, but I can't deny for a second that when I jump into IRC with these people and listen to their entries week after week, I feel a little bit less alone.

Blogging, too, and expressing personal thoughts, is something that once upon a time, I did not feel alone in.  But as I've written time and time again, that time seems to be long over now, and the herd has moved on, migrated to greener pastures, leaving this land barren.  No one has to stay behind to tend to these spaces.  But some of us do anyways.

If nothing else, though, what =has= changed in my life is that I know that I am not alone in looking back towards the past.  Even if your past is yours, and yours alone to treasure, to remember, and to mourn, perhaps there is solace in knowing that other people believe in your ideals as well.