It’s been a long time. 21 years. That’s incredible to me. So much has happened in that time. War, peace, war again, panics and pandemics, radical advancement of technology. It doesn’t all seem real. I’ve been lurking for a few days now, going back and reading old PMs and threads, seeing things that I missed, missed out on. Seeing how things changed.
I hated it.
I went back and saw how much I hated myself. I always knew I did, always knew I was an ass and acted out blindly and stupidly. Cocky, opinionated, chauvinistic. Truth be told, I hated myself at the time, too. Blamed myself for things I had no control over, blamed others for the things I did. I’m amazed I was tolerated. I guess people saw through the nastiness, saw the reasons written between the lines? I don’t know.
I wouldn’t have been friends with me.
I had a lot dumped on me at the time, had some opportunities that I both had taken away and let slip away. Acted out out of insecurity, of fear and aggression. It’s shameful. I am ashamed of who I was, and to an extent who I am. I think I’m a better person now. Maybe even a good one?
I tacked on ill-fitting pieces of personality, trying to fit myself in to shapes that didn’t work. Tried to “earn” my father’s love and attention, tried to burn away a bad childhood in a blaze of tough-guy, macho jerk that just turned out to be smoke and mirrors. Only thing that really got me was a few too many concussions.
That’s the other part I hate. I don’t remember it all. I remember the feelings, I remember some of the names. I remember them being really important at the time, staying up late into the night and early into the morning having long discussions over AIM and reacting to every little perceived slight so egregiously poorly. I don’t know if it’s the concussions, the chronic insomnia, the depression, time, or something worse that dimmed those memories. My mom got diagnosed with Alzheimer’s and dementia at 65, and it’s horrible. She has good days and bad days and doesn’t remember them after, but everyday I think about “what if that happens to me, too?”
Is AIM even still a thing?
I joined the day before 9/11. That’s a weird thing to think about.
Reading this back, I’m giving the wrong impression. I loved this place, and I loved the people in it. Many of them impacted and affected my life, informed on how I grew as a person, and I’m grateful for the time and the companionship. I’d say at one point it very sincerely saved my life. I don’t know what I would have done if I didn’t have this community of friends. I just wish I wasn’t me. That I didn’t inflict my insufferable angst on them.
It’s sad to see such a tight community drift away. I see people flit back every so often, looking at the post histories. It’s like we’re migrating back to the old watering holes, drifting pass as we go on our ways.
How about you? What do you regret? What do you remember? What do you treasure?