i wanted to wait to write this.

but the longer i wait, the longer it takes me to step through the next door.

so here we go.

i've run a lot of experiments on social media throughout my life. i was early to facebook and myspace and bebo. i self-hosted forum software for my middle school friends. i used google+ until the day it died. i tried being email-only for a little while.

even this year i've tried a few different things on farcaster:

• a public build log.

• the /wnba and /mech-kb communities.

• an extended break.

• a stint of being direct cast-only.

and they've all been really interesting, with lessons to learn from all of them (we'll get to the last one in just a minute).

but they've all lacked something.

i'm not very good at maintaining friendships.

it's not that i don't care about people. quite the opposite. it's that i feel a very deep appreciation and love for people — and that scares me.

as a young, shy child, i didn't have the opportunities to learn to express or manage or really understand my emotions. i grew up in a household that was too busy, to parents that were ill-equipped for the task.

i don't fault them for it, i think they did a great job with what they had.

but the fact remains that i learned to cope by repressing, well... ALL of my feelings, both good and bad.

and so it became impossible to get close to anyone. i simply couldn't do it. i just didn't have the hardware for many, many years.

but people bring me so. much. joy.

i can't tell you how many times i cry in a week just scrolling my feed and seeing all you lovely people tell your stories of fear and bravery and beauty and pain and hope and love and despair and determination.

i cannot describe the feeling i get when i spend an afternoon with someone that has just returned from a trip, or accomplished a goal, or broken up with their partner.

and you have all, in your own way, contributed to that joy for me.

but there is something bigger waiting for me.

social media (and the modern age of digital convenience, generally) have made connection abundant. it is easier than ever to find people that are like you. that make you feel seen. that make you feel safe.

but for someone like myself — someone that is afraid of my own joy — it's a dangerous trap.

as i scroll, day after day, i become invested in your stories — but always from a safe distance. i get to see without ever risking being seen. i get to love without ever risking rejection.

and no matter what i've tried, when i allow myself to connect with the people in my feed, the connections i have with the real people in my life always suffer.

because relationships are hard. they take work.

and the scrolling is an easy simulation.

i thought i'd cracked the code recently, with the DC-only experiment.

it was a straightforward idea: if i wanted to engage with someone on farcaster, i had to do it personally. i couldn't just "like" their cast, i had to say so. if someone posted a fire meme, i had reach out and let them know it directly. if they made me think, or if i had questions, then i was following up in their inbox, not in their replies.

and this was... pure magic, to be honest.

after just a single day, i found my brain rewiring to take more risks, to challenge my assumptions about the people behind the profiles, and to be more engaged with the content i was consuming.

it was really wonderful.

it felt like i was making friends.

but, in retrospect... it was still a one way street.

i could reach out to other people, because they were allowing themselves to be seen... but no one could reach out to me. i wasn't sharing MY life.

and it helped something else click, too: this is why my IRL relationships have suffered.

because of the way i've run these strange, esoteric experiments on social media, i haven't given my friends any surface area to actually connect with me. i haven't been vulnerable. i haven't been open.

and then i've wondered why i feel isolated, stuck on the outside of my friend groups.

there's something more for me out there, friends.

and it's hard. much harder than this is.

and i love all of you and what you've brought to my life, but i need to stop making it so easy to feel that love. i need to earn it so that it is durable, and i'm less willing to let it go.

and i need to start allowing myself to be seen in the ways that scare me most by the people that i care about more than anything.

which means i have to let you go.

so that i can let something else in.