The more I think about it, the more I think I'm simply gifted. A gifted weirdo who suffers from mild dysphoria and wants something reasonably classy to attach it to that still satisfies this generalized sense that something is wrong. Perhaps I should just grow up and find something that's worth worrying about.
The thing is, I have a boyfriend, and yes, I'm very happy with him. There is a great deal of empathy between us. I don't have any trouble parsing people's emotions, and, to tell you the truth, there have been times that I've practically been able to read someone's mind. If I actually concentrate on someone's facial expression, it surprises me how much insight I can get into their thought processes. It's part of the reason for my weird empathy for animals and children. I like to watch them think. Particularly crows, actually. I like to try to wrap my mind around what could be going on in those incredible, little minds that have manifested abilities so very like ours.
Before meeting my boyfriend, though, no: I never felt the least bit lonely. Ever. I was happy as a recluse. My life was on an upswing, and I had become a happy hermit. I just happened to run into him, somewhere along the line. If not for him, though, I'd still be on my own, and I'd still probably be one of the happiest, little introverts in the world.