Winter Desolation (Desert Wanderings)

This has been a harder winter for me than others.
I feel that living in the city has intensified
my feelings of loneliness.
But I can never be sure,
of anything, really.

That sounds like somewhat of a paradox,
does it not?
Lonely in a bustling city?
Impossible.
Reach out and talk to those around you.
Leave your bedroom.
Shut your computer off.
Set it on it's shelf.
Put on your jacket and start walking.

All of these actions seem to hold the answer.
But none of them truly do.
There are no answers.
You can only continue what you are doing
or start something new.

I miss the countryside.
My sanctuary is in the stillness of the forest.
I am capable of positive human interaction.
But my preferred environment is amidst the towering trees
I long to feel the gelid, winter wind against my face
I long to run the scorched soil of the desert between my fingers
I long to immerse myself in the playful, salty waves of the ocean

My best friend has described
what I may be going through
as life in a moral desert.

I've resorted to many objects of past interest.
Certain aspects of myself that I believed I was through with.
What is it called when self-described happiness only lasts so long?
When you finish what you thought you were enjoying
and feel an insatiable emptiness.
Longing for change,
endless adventure,
any absence of familiarity.

I call this life.
I call this desolation.
I call this winter of the soul.
I call this my moral desert of a city.
I call this wandering.

I am going to
Leave this bedroom.
Shut my computer off.
Set it on it's shelf.
Put on my jacket and start walking.

Thank you for my sufferings, Lord.