I think a lot about loneliness. Not as a letter-writer, not as an engineer, but simply as a person who also knows how to peer into the silence. There is a bright loneliness — when it is voluntary, when you are at peace with yourself, when the silence inside does not frighten you. And there is another — which, like rust, slowly, day after day, undermines. It does not scream. It just makes everything quieter inside. And over time, there are no words left.

Oddly enough, it is harder for a man to endure loneliness than for a woman. I don't say this as a dogma, but as an observation. Women talk to each other more often about feelings, they know how to experience pain together. They are allowed to cry, allowed to be vulnerable. Men - less often. They are often expected to: don't fall apart, keep yourself in hand, be a fortress. And here you are - a fortress. But the lock on the gate inside is starting to rust, because no one has looked in there for a long time.

Some immediately try to seem strong and confident. Someone, on the contrary, writes with restraint, carefully, as if afraid of being misunderstood. But almost all of them feel one thing: they are tired of being alone. And this fatigue is not about everyday life, not about the lack of dinner or hugs. It is deeper. This is a longing for closeness that is real, warm, God's. To be needed not for what you can do, but simply - because you are.

I don't know if it is easy to be a man in our time. I think it is not easy. A man is still expected to be certain, stable, supportive. And rarely does anyone think that support sometimes also needs support. And when it is not there, silence sets in. Not the blessed one, in which God speaks to the heart. But the deaf one, where even prayer sounds as if into emptiness.

I think that loneliness is like a desert. But the Scripture says: "And the Spirit led Him into the desert." It is not by chance. The desert is not a punishment. It is a place where a meeting takes place. With your true "I", with your wounds, with your God. But even Christ, being in the desert, did not stay there forever. He returned - to people, to life, to service. Because man was not created for loneliness. Even Adam in Paradise felt "not good to be alone."

Sometimes it seems to me that modern loneliness is the loudest. It hides behind ironic posts, behind ideal photos, behind lists of requirements for a partner. But at the core, there is always the same question: "Is there someone who will truly see me and not turn away?" And this is such a need for love, not superficial, but the kind that "suffers long, is merciful... does not seek its own... bears all things, believes all things, hopes all things, endures all things." These are not my words - these are the words of the Apostle Paul.

I want men to talk about this more often. Not only to women, not only to friends (if you are lucky, there are some), but also to God. Because God is not ashamed of men's pain. He does not demand "to be strong", He himself was a man and knew what it was to cry, what it was to be abandoned. And yet - He rose again. So that each of us would know: the emptiness inside is not a sentence.

Loneliness is not a shame or weakness. It is just part of the path. But the path is not a point. It leads somewhere. And if you are alone today, it does not mean that it will always be like this. The main thing is not to become embittered, not to hide forever, not to resign yourself to the thought that “I’m not destined.” Maybe you are destined to be loved. But first, to be seen.

If you’re reading this, thank you for making it to the end.

Godspeed.

Lana Banana