There is a mental block of some sort that allows me to make lots and lots of friends online in varying forms. It allows me to accept them as real people and (to some degree) believe what they say of their age, gender, lives, personality. And yet, somewhere, somehow, there exists a denial that they will ever touch me "for real".

I can /cuddle and /snuggle and /hug hundreds, but were just one to show up at my door I'd be a basket case.

I can dream of a romance online becoming more, but it's the sort of dream one wakes up from every day and then goes on about one's business because it was obviously just a dream and will never be "for real".

Instead, I create a pocket around me. No friends. Minimal contact with family outside of my almost-grown children. Hours spent online talking to strangers. Phone calls with a limited few, but always with strong boundaries. Creating my "for real" solitude.

Because only from the freedom of that emptiness I surround myself with, only there can I feel comfortable holding the weight of hundreds of not-so-real friends. They are there and I am here. They are real for where they are, but will never cross my path, never enter my bubble, never endanger me.

Beautiful solitude.

(And the anxious has nothing to do with this. It has to do with the ugly reality of working at a company that is slowly dissolving. Economic realities are no fun.)