Quotes About Isolation

It's not because I don't like people that I don't go. I search for a compromise within myself... and while I'm busy thinking about it, I miss my chance...every time.

My friends rejected me...out of nowhere. What was wrong with me? What did I do? I really had no idea. Why? I want to know why. If I did something wrong, I want to apologize. But the rejection got worse, and so did the fear.

If people can't stand being alone, they have no choice but to die

In reality of everyday occurrences I've had to submit to people in order not to lose them. It's less the submission that bothers me, I guess, than how it makes my life miserable. And what happens if I can't forgive myself for making that choice? And what if, in order to keep on living, I have to continue to accept myself? What am I supposed to do? Conclusion: It'd be best if I'm destroyed. The best thing is for me just to vanish.

I was in a self-induced depression. Welcome to me Real World.

Maybe what I want is to cut all ties with everybody. The thread or something that keeps me connected to the world, the worthless proof that I exist.

Fortunately for me, I ran across some girls I could get along with so I could enjoy high school life okay, but it must be awful for kids who don't get along with anybody. We're different from our parents, a completely different species from our teachers. And kids who are one grade apart you are in a different world altogether. In other words, we're basically surrounded by enemies and have to make it on our own.

I was frightened by the optimism of adults, their stupid trust in science to treat a troubled heart. Afraid of their obsession with believing they have to treat troubled kids. I just wanted them to leave me alone, so how come they didn't get it? But that's the way it always is.

Its so hard to talk when you want to kill yourself. That's above and beyond everything else, and it's not a mental complaint-it's a physical thing, like it's physically hard to open your mouth and make the words come out. They don't come out smooth and in conjunction with your brain the way normal people's words do; they come out in chunks as if from a crushed-ice dispenser; you stumble on them as they gather behind your lower lip. So you just keep quiet.

I wanted to tell people, "My depression is acting up today" as an excuse for not seeing them, but I never managed to pull it off.

I am," I said To no one there An no one heard at all Not even the chair "I am," I cried "I am," said I And I am lost, and I can't even say why Leavin' me lonely still

I had spindly little ankles, and growing up in Canada, I couldn't skate. I was no good at any sports so was very much a pariah through those adolescent years.

The telegraph may have made the country into "one neighborhood," but it was a peculiar one, populated by strangers who knew nothing but the most superficial facts about each other.

The reader must come armed , in a serious state of intellectual readiness. This is not easy because he comes to the text alone. In reading, one's responses are isolated, one'sintellect thrown back on its own resourses. To be confronted by the cold abstractions of printed sentences is to look upon language bare, without the assistance of either beauty or community. Thus, reading is by its nature a serious business. It is also, of course, an essentially rational activity.

What did we do before we were so tethered? I

One of the less appealing attributes of the American experience is the desire to shut the door on anyone coming in behind you.

Vann had a practiced eye for loneliness. He walked over to her and said that she was pretty and complimented her on her clothes.

OSCAR. Don't you know what's happening to the old gang? It's breaking up. Everyone's getting divorced....I swear, we used to have better games when we couldn't get out at night.

Every junkie's like a setting sun.

Without Pegi, I'm an island without an ocean

it was something harder to describe than that. We were on each other's side in a way that felt permanent, and so it hurt more than it might have otherwise, when she decided to shut me out.

Ill-fortune carries with it a stench and leaves a wide berth around its victims,

It hurt. It hurt like hell. But it didn't matter, if no one knew.

He was falling between glacial walls, he didn't know how anyone could fall so far away from everyone else in the world. So far to fall, so cold all the way, so steep and dark between those morphine-coloured walls...