loneliness, ˈloʊnlinəs, is a phenomenon almost as strong as solwind.
created for, and by, humanity – loneliness is the disease of the modern world.
yet, it is the cure for the modern word.
for loneliness instills longing. longing implicates love. & love is the force that initiates words and turns the world.
w/out longing there would be no world. no words and no wonders. no herds that yonders.
for loneliness is not archaic in the sense that we can all relive it. and in our loneliness we feel what we so hopelessly try to push away.
a sunny day, alone in my apartment.
alone.
lonely.
not noone to hold. not noone to speak, to see, to eat w.
yet, this is just the beginning. the beginning of a journey of loneliness as long as our orbit around the sun. a year worths of waiting, wondering, wandering and acquiring wisdom.
as my journey begins, as I am commencing orbit, the feeling of freedom arise.
I can do whatever I want.
yet I feel, that as my wisdom has grown, as my hair turns gray and my memory fails, that I become more comfortable. less courageous and daring. nevertheless seeking.
but my former fear-free self has left and been replaced by the present me. although this is not entirely true, the feeling still stands.
I have not yet become rooted. while sthlm is still my home, I am ready to leave. and while relations are holding me stuck, pushing me in opposite directions, they are not as exciting as to fulfil my strive to explore. I have not fallen in love. although K might be close, I am not willing to sacrifice my freedom to stay.
right now, my wish to leave the country is not stronger than my wish to have dinner.
but I know, that when the dust settles and the smoke clears, my vision will be to move on. to venture the world to fulfill myself.
these past few months have been different. I haven’t felt the same urge to leave, as have I before. whilst certainly still eager for change, K has gratified many of my desires – not just physically, but mentally.
now, when it comes to writing.
arguably, I might not have created any value for anyone or anything with this post so far. however, the value of writing have been immense. the process of putting words on a paper, hearing them out loud, speaking them to myself, printing them to save them forever.
the feeling of meaning in a meaningless world.
the sense of purpose in a purposeless particle.
this takes effort. but it gives back so much more.
I wish to continue.
bjornfonden, 2026 