20 Years

[VileTerror]

20 years.

That's more than half of this semi-lucid thing they call my life. More than half my life has taken place after joining Keenspace.
I would not exist if not for this place. I could not exist.

I came here to express myself without really understanding what it was that expression means.
I knew that I felt alone.
I always felt alone.
I always feel alone.
I know now that I tried to express myself as an attempt to reach out. To find connection.

It never really worked. Not the way I thought it was supposed to, at least.
It's hard to come to grips with, but . . .

. . .

The fault has always been mine.
So many of you reached out to me in your own ways,
So many of you wanted me to feel welcome.
I thought that none of you were meeting me where I was at,
but I've never really understood how to be in the place where others are able to actually reach me.

I've felt jealousy and envy and desire to be able to experience the sense of joy you all seemed to have . . .
at the knowledge that you knew that you belonged.

I recognize that I'm not the only one who felt alone in a place like this. In a place where I was surrounded by people who were friends and lovers of one another. I could never seem to connect with you in your joy and comradery.

But now
When this place has reached ... whatever it is we call this point in time,
I think I finally have something to connect to you with:
A profound sense of loss.

Maybe you don't feel it.
Maybe you've moved on and will never see or think of this place again.
But I'd like to believe that you're still here, in some capacity.
I'd like to believe that you have the same feelings I do.

That we might actually connect, maybe for the first and only time.

It's nice to think that maybe I can still find what I was always looking for here.
That even if it wasn't during the prime of its life, that there can be joy borne out of sorrow.
I may only be connecting to imaginary phantoms.
But maybe that's enough.

And I have to look ahead.
Even if this place is in its final downward spiral, and I do not want to see it come to an end,
I know that there is a future to focus on.
A future enriched by the existence of Keenspace.

Of course, there may still be those who came here looking for connection, like me, and never found it, like me. Maybe they still can't find any sense of connection. But hopefully this moment can inspire them. An inspiration to find belonging in commiseration.

Even if I wasn't able to make connections for myself here, it's important to respect and celebrate the connections all of you had.
You folks had a real and meaningful community here, while it lasted.

And maybe that community will come back here.
As long as someone keeps the lights on and there are those of us who wander these virtual halls, then there is still a home for you to come back to.
I can't make any promises. I know better than that now.
But I'd like to try.
I'd like to do my part in planting the seeds of belonging here.

I'll tend to them from time to time. Maybe they'll sprout again.

And maybe even if the garden is in full bloom, and the community is strong as ever, maybe I still won't find the connection I sought.
But I can live with that so long as I know I had a hand in keeping this place fertile for your inclusion.

This place has meant so much to me.
I've seen this place do so much good for so many of you.
I've seen this place give so much for so many of you.
I've seen you give so much to one another in this place.
This place; Keenspace or ComicGensis, whatever you call it - is community.

This place would have existed without me, but I would not exist without it.
Joining Keenspace all those years ago changed my life, and therefore this life I have now I owe in part to this place.

Here's to 20 more years.

[Cortland]

I feel very much the same way. There's something about the forums we shared here that simply can't be replicated on more modern social media platforms. And yet somehow, it's been replaced by them, and it's a shame.

I remember meeting you in person up in the CN Expo Toronto back in 2006, when about two dozen of us were all hanging out in K-Dawg's house. That sort of thing couldn't happen without a place like this. The cookouts every year were some kind of awesome, next-level thing, where people who met virtually online here for years got to see each other in person. Good times. I hope something like that can happen again.