I find that I am growing more recluse, interested in the world around me, yet not interested in the people in it.
I have grown weary of conversation, of polite platitudes, of words that have lost meaning and relevance, even before they have been uttered.
Is it a sign of fading? I guess it is.
My spirit is still invested in this world, nature, its future, how it will develop.
I long yet to see new areas, new sights, new sunsets and new dawns, yet I am growing to prefer to face them alone, without the company of others.
Towns have become... a necessity yet not one I enjoy.
The forced interactions with people, even those formerly considered friends, has grown stale. Beyond interactions with those of whom I desire to something, be it sustenance, lodging, information, a piece of equipment or a repair service, even the tending to my steed, I see little point in seeking out others.
In this, the exile is perhaps a blessing instead of what many would consider a curse.
I thrive on my own, not with others, and in that, I think they thrive better without me amongst them too.
I welcome the solitude.
