Quotes About Isolation

but the truth is that I don't feel like I can carry anyone but myself right now. The streets are empty. I am empty. Or, no--I am full of pain. It's my life that's empty.

If you're strange enough, people won't notice you're kind and will leave you alone.

Maybe this is what alone really is — finding out how tiny your world is, and not knowing how to get anywhere else.

And just like that, the universe goes wrong. Just like that, all the enormity seems to shrink into a ball and float away from my reach. I feel it, and she doesn't. Or I feel it, and she won't.

I wanted to ask her, What does a stranger feel like? Not to be snarky or sarcastic. Because I really wanted to know if there was a difference,vif there was a way to become truly knowable, if there wasn't always something keeping you a stranger, even to the people you weren't strange to at all.

When he talked to you, you seemed to fit in, but when someone else was talking, or he would be distracted, you jsut looked lonely over there. At least to me. But whenever I would tell you that, you'd say I'm fine. I just slip out of it, you know? And I'd say I'll catch you, and you would say, It's not the kind of slipping you can catch.

I preferred to hang out with the dead, dying, or desperate books - used we call them, in a way that we'd never call a person, unless we meant it cruelly

Although it is such a singular word, there are many variations of alone. There is the alone of an empty beach at twilight. There is the alone of an empty hotel room. There is the alone of being caught in a throng of people. There is the alone of missing a particular person. And there is the alone of being with a particular person and realizing you are still alone.

When we're alone together, I'm the destination. When I'm here in her life at school, I'm the disruption.

Any time I let it, the weight of living creeps in and starts to drag her down. It would be too easy to say that I feel invisible. Instead, I feel painfully visible, and entirely ignored. People talk to her, but it feels like they are outside a house, talking through the walls. There are friends, but they are people to spend time with, not people to share time with. There's a false beast that takes the form of instinct and harps on the pointlessness of everything that happens.

How did my world get so small?

She has been left to her own devices, and those are broken.

So there I was, hovering above everything I knew. I had made it somewhere special, and I'd gotten there all on my own. Nobody had given it to me. Nobody had told me to do it. I'd climbed and climbed and climbed, and this was my reward. To watch over the world, and to be alone with myself. That, I found, was what I needed.

This is the problem with having a barrier between you and everyone else —you see it, but they don't. They talk to you, but you can't talk back to them.

My beacon is gone and I'm drowning now. The storm is all around me and I can't even save myself. I don't even know if I want to. She's gone.

he's walking away and at the same time i feel like i'm the one leaving him behind.

The day it happened, the week after it happened-those were not times I wanted to go back to. How I felt like I was trapped in a chamber of my own noise. Sitting in class and not being there at all. Sitting in a chair and fragmenting at the same time. Clutching to the random facts. Thinking the concept of a fact was itself a fiction. Because we live in a blur. All of us live in a blur.

It is a sound like loneliness—enough to let you know you're there, but not enough to fill you with life.

There were only two options—something was wrong with everyone else, or something was wrong with me. Because either they were tricking themselves into thinking there was a tomorrow together, or I was the only person who was leaving.

Hello?" I called. I had gotten so used to being alone, but never entirely used to it. Never used to it enough to stop wanting the alternative.

Nobody ever took my picture. They didn't want to. Or I wouldn't let them. You were the only exception.

How alone am I right now? Even my car has decided to give up on me.

And again. I kept clicking until the photograph was demolished, until it was no more than a mosaic of gray tiles, adding up to nothing. Nothing. Because wasn't that how I felt that day? If you zoom close—if you really get close to someone, if you really get close to yourself—then you lose the other person, you lose yourself entirely. You get so close you can't see anything anymore. Your mind becomes all these abstract fragments. English becomes math.

Feeling someone else's anger is bad; being left alone is worse.