a quiet exile in a world built for two.

living abroad is a quiet exile, you think stepping out of your comfort zone changes everything, that distance breaks the cycle but you just wake up realizing how entirely alone you are. 22 years of solitude was something i could carry when i was anchored to a familiar place, but this foreign air strips away every distraction.

there is a brutal weight to staying inside because the walls feel heavy, only to step out and watch a world moving in pairs. every restaurant table filled with laughter, every trail shared by a couple, it all feels like watching life through glass. people tell you to wait or to work on yourself, as if needing someone is a flaw to fix. i am in the best place i could possibly be, yet none of it matters when there is no one to share it with.

No friends, No lover to hold, and nobody to check up on me. My phone feels like a desert, without the sands.

when the isolation deepens, the mind starts playing its cruel tricks, whispering that you are the last human left meant only for solitude. i write to make sense of the ache, but tonight i don't even recognize the reflection staring back at me which keeps saying:

"You are, and forever will be, all alone"