I can think of a really sappy way to describe how i feel.
Like imagine it's like 1998 or 2005 or something. You're a teenager riding your bike in the dead of night looking for something to do and you spot this brick and mortar place. The sign says "Kiwi Farms" with a logo probably made in MS Paint. Microsoft Word best case scenario. Curious, you open the door. There's a small hallway, it's radio blasting Fall Out Boy or some indie music, that leads to a large room with a bunch of kids, none of them fully developed. Some are the punk types, others are nerds. Some are liberal, others are conservative. Most are white, but some African Americans and Hispanics. There's a lot of sofas, and they're chatting up a storm while playing Halo and shit together, about the rumors and happenings surrounding particularly stupid people, most happen to be in the special ed department. You enter and are greeted by a supervisor, asking you fill out a forum. It's oddly prolific in it's demandings, making you think a lot of people have caused a ruckus and will cause a ruckus in the future. Despite this, you file it out anyway. You walk near a concession stand with a lot of treats that will probably make you horridly obese. Instead of 50 pounds of mozzarella sticks or something of a similar equation, you just order a Mountain Dew Livewire. You sit down at one of the couches, somewhat alone. But people greet you and offer them spots at a larger portion of the room. You accept, and you're greeted with a similar motley crew of people, all on the couch, switching between the local news, MTV, and numerous other things, commenting on it all. It's hard to gel with their rugged type at first, but you gravitate to it. You decide to make it a priority to go there at a constant basis. You meet new people, some you wish you never did, and you see a lot of weird shit in your visitation. But you enjoy it.