"I think I'm lonely," I said.

It wasn't that weird to share it.

"But I think loneliness isn't just longing for what was in the past, what is lost. I don't miss those things. So I think it's an anticipation of some sort of future. I don't know if that makes sense."

Many things in life don't make sense.

The feeling is nothing so severe, so saturated or anything. The sense of loneliness wasn't a complete blindness. But it was light. Light and almost nothing. It was like a fog, pressing down on me in my bed. Sometimes I would know, sometimes I wouldn't know, but it didn't make sense, and it was heavy to breathe in.

I don't know if it made any sense. But it wasn't that weird to share it. I guess the thought of loneliness doesn't have to be so lonely.


All man is an island, no man is an island.