Posts never written and hugs waiting to be given

I wrote a really long post in my head on the way back tonight. A very long post in which I felt very sorry for myself because, for reasons I won't go into, I had become acutely aware of my own loneliness. I listened to a lot of Turin Brakes on the journey, particularly Underdog (Save Me), which has a chorus that breaks my heart every time I hear it:

Oh please
Save me, save me from myself
I can't be the only one stuck on the shelf
You said you'd always fall for the underdog

And I felt as if I were locked away in a crystal box, unable to touch anyone else, unable to be touched. I felt as if I were somehow separate from the rest of the world, always apart and alone, and that nothing would ever or could ever change that. My future stretched ahead of me and it was empty, devoid of people.
I decided not to write that post.
Instead I refreshed my RSS reader and noticed a post by Danny O'Brien, someone I've come to know fairly well over the last few months, but whom I've admired for the last year and a half. I feel really proud to know Danny, because not only is he a lovely person, he's also scarily intelligent and immensely kind.
Danny hasn't been writing much on his blog lately, so I pounce on any post he does write, and this one really just struck a chord.

It's been a weird year for me. I say that with the shock of someone who was intending to write “a weird few months”, and then started counting, and then ran out of fingers.
Since October last year I've been involved in projects that for one way or another, have discouraged idle gabbling. I'm not sure that's been good for me. It's given me a chance to think a great deal and get far ahead on some topics, but now I feel pretty lonely and a little insecure. I don't feel I've done what I should really have done all along, which is bring others along with me for the ride. I know all this extra stuff, and it was delicious learning it all. But now it feels like just a big pile of boiled potatoes in my stomach.
[…]
I feel like when you're sitting in the forest clearing, and it's been very peaceful and quiet, but your good sense tells you it's time to turn around and go back, because it's a long way home, and it's getting dark, and you have some friends who are wondering where you are.

And I read this and I realised that my life is full of people. Really wonderful people, like Danny and Kevin and Steve and Louise and Kate and Cory and Paula and Tom and Tom (several Toms, in fact) and Gary and Euan and Ewan and Cam and Maciej and Jeannie and Gerard and Svet and Vince and Caz and Neil and Michael and Dan and Simon and the list goes on and on and on. I'm not alone.
Right now, all I really want to do is pop round to Danny's and give him a big hug and say that it's ok, it's alright. I packed a torch and a map and some supplies, and I'll meet you at the clearing. You're not alone.