I often deal with a specific feeling of loneliness. Even though I am surrounded by people, friends, I feel alone. The reasons for it are not clear to me. I always wish to be part of a "group", a crew, a gang, a swarm, whatever you call it. But I never am. I always end up swimming between swarms. Being a connecting link. Introducing people from one tribe with the other. But I never really felt part of one. My strongest relationships tend to be 1-on-1 relationships with people that are not directly connected to each other, spread across countries, cultures, and social bubbles.

I think a lot of clever, empathetic kids go through this from about 12 to about 30. I know I sure did. I've talked to a handful of other people who went through the same thing. I can give you the perspective of time:

You are experiencing the transition between external and internal reinforcement of your self-image.

You don't know who you are. You have some ideas but they're fragile and tentative. When you were growing up your identity was largely defined by those around you, those who guided you, those who wanted things for you. Parents, friends, babysitters, siblings. You're grown now and the things that you want, the things that you are have not fully absorbed/replaced/rejected the things your social circle want you to be.

Confidence is performative and I've found that the most introspective people have the hardest time keeping up the charade. "Fake it 'til you make it" is genuine advice when it comes to social interaction. No irony. We're all dancing around hoping nobody notices how often our mask slips. The people who can most sociopathically silence the little voices of doubt win the game and the richer your internal life, the louder those voices scream. Eventually they start singing in harmony, though and you can accept or reject the party on its merits rather than as the Laplace transform of your mood, the lighting and the last thing your ex-girlfriend posted on Facebook.

Club culture is a land of arrested development. It's something most of us grow out of. This is anathema to the Burner ethos, I know but I turned down four Burning Man documentaries between 28 and 35. It's not that people aren't going to Burning Man anymore, it's that my circle of friends ceased being obsessed with it. There comes a time when Wendy grows up and she's crestfallen that Peter Pan doesn't care half as much as he should.

She said that she always had the impression that I "know everyone", which lead to the assumption that I am not part of the group. Or rather, that I am "fine without a group"

Her assessment of your internal fortitude is greater than your assessment of your internal fortitude. This is always 100% true everywhere forever simply because nobody gives half as much of a shit about us as we do.

The melancholy you feel is because you are outgrowing a comfortable persona. You will grow into another. Your rate of growth will slow. But until then, there will be growing pains.

I got to talk to one person I met, who was also part of such a group, and I asked her what she thinks happened.

Had you instead said "I'm kinda bummin' 'cuz I'm not as into this as I used to be" she likely would have said "I know, right?" Nostalgia and melancholy are some of the most universally accessible emotions we have; we go through high school hating every day and then an appalling number of us spend every day 'til the grave reliving those glory days as if we've accomplished nothing else with our lives. Nostalgia is safe - nothing can go wrong because it's already happened. Nostalgia is approved - we're only going to talk about the good stuff so the past is only good.

You're looking back and missing what you see while looking forward you can see the dragons. It's a surprisingly universal experience that we all hide from each other so that civilization doesn't fall. Recognize the universality of your emotions, rather than their uniqueness, and you will find plenty of people who share them.

And sharing emotions forms the strongest bonds of friendship.