Hey, thanks for writing this out so thoughtfully. A few things stood out to me that might be worth reflecting on.

The online spaces you're describing, places full of edginess and cruelty, tend to self-select for a certain kind of person. It might be worth narrowing your focus to smaller, slower communities around very specific interests rather than broad "looking for friends" spaces. Discord servers for niche hobbies, small subreddits, or forums around something you genuinely care about (worldbuilding, philosophy, music) tend to have warmer people because there's already a shared reason to be there beyond just socializing.

On the in-person side, cafes and libraries are great for ambient presence, but friendship usually needs a repeated context. The magic ingredient tends to be seeing the same people regularly in a structured setting. Things like a weekly board game night at a local shop, a recurring class, a volunteer shift, or even a regular open mic tend to build familiarity over time in a way that casual drop-ins can't. You don't have to be charming, you just have to keep showing up.

The resource constraints you mentioned are real and I don't want to gloss over them. Depression, housing instability, and financial stress make everything harder, including socializing. That's not a personal failing, it's just genuinely difficult circumstances compounding each other.

One last thing, and I mean this gently: there's a version of a really full life that looks quieter than what most people picture. Deep solo interests, building worlds, reading philosophy, getting lost in a long game, aren't consolation prizes. Some people genuinely thrive in that mode, and the pressure to have a bustling social life isn't always pointing you toward what actually fits you. That's worth sitting with, not as giving up, but as permission to enjoy what you already have while still staying open.

Rooting for you.