Quotes About Isolation

Y sin embargo, sentía la alienación de estar rodeada por otros que no podían verme realmente o que preferían no hacerlo. Había sentido odio hacia mí misma, provocado por la sensación de ser un fraude, de interpretar una imagen de lo que deseaba ser pero no era. Había vivido con el miedo a que la gente que quería pudiera alejarse de mí si alguna vez llegaba a conocer a la verdadera persona que se ocultaba en mi interior.

It's a brutally sad fact that a number of people simply disappear from your life when you're broken and need them the most.

Gideon e io avevamo segreti che per ora potevamo condividere solo l'uno con l'altra e che ci tenevano isolati e reciprocamente dipendenti. Chi aveva abusato di noi non ci aveva portato via solo l'innocenza, ci aveva portato via anche la libertà.

Es un hecho cruelmente triste que algunas personas desaparezcan de tu vida cuando estás pasando por un infierno y cuando más las necesitas.

I felt very still and empty, the way the eye of a tornado must feel, moving dully along in the middle of the surrounding hullabaloo.

I don't care about anyone, and the feeling is quite obviously mutual.

I didn't know why I was going to cry, but I knew that if anybody spoke to me or looked at me too closely the tears would fly out of my eyes and the sobs would fly out of the throat and I'd cry for a week.

I couldn't see the point of getting up. I had nothing to look forward to.

I lean to you, numb as a fossil. Tell me I'm here.

I wanted to be where nobody I knew could ever come.

The thought that I might kill myself formed in my mind coolly as a tree or a flower.

I am too pure for you or anyone. From the poem Fever 103°, 20 October 1962

I guess I should have reacted the way most of the other girls were, but I couldn't get myself to react. I felt very still and very empty, the way the eye of a tornado must feel, moving dully along in the middle of the surrounding hullabaloo.

I buried my head under the darkness of the pillow and pretended it was night. I couldn't see the point of getting up. I had nothing to look forward to.

I felt myself melting into the shadows like the negative of a person I'd never seen before in my life.

I felt dumb and subdued. Every time I tried to concentrate, my mind glided off, like a skater, into a large empty space, and pirouetted there, absently.

I saw the days of the year stretching ahead like a series of bright, white boxes, and separating one box from another was sleep, like a black shade. Only for me, the long perspective of shades that set off one box from the next day had suddenly snapped up, and I could see day after day after day glaring ahead of me like a white, broad, infinitely desolate avenue.

I can't deceive myself that out of the bare stark realization that no matter how enthusiastic you are, no matter how sure that character is fate, nothing is real, past or future, when you are alone in your room with the clock ticking loudly into the false cheerful brilliance of the electric light. And if you have no past or future which, after all, is all that the present is made of, why then you may as well dispose of the empty shell of present and commit suicide.

The more hopeless you were, the further away they hid you.

There is something demoralizing about watching two people get more and more crazy about each other, especially when you are the only extra person in the room.

I am dead to them, even though I once flowered.

Now I am silent, hate Up to my neck, Thick, thick. I do not speak. --from Lesbos, written 18 October 1962

Now I know what loneliness is, I think. Momentary loneliness, anyway. It comes from a vague core of the self - - like a disease of the blood, dispersed throughout the body so that one cannot locate the matrix, the spot of contagion.

And I sit here without identity: faceless. My head aches.