Quotes About Isolation

I've stopped talking because there's really nothing left to say and there's this piercing sort of pain where my heart is. Maybe I'm even having a heart attack, but it doesn't seem worth mentioning.

Something inside me shuts down and I'm too numb to feel anything. It's like watching complete strangers in another Hunger Games. But I do notice they omit the part where I covered her in flowers. Right. Because even that smacks of rebellion.

And here I am, strapped into a tree, a stone's throw from the biggest idiot in the games.

District 12. Where you can starve to death in safety," I mutter. Then I glance quickly over my shoulder. Even here, in the middle of nowhere, you worry someone might overhear you.

Trapped for days, years, centuries maybe. Dead, but not allowed to die. Alive, but as good as dead.

I can hear him weeping but I don't care. They probably won't even bother to question her, she's so far gone. Gone right off the deep end years ago in her Games. There's a good chance I'm headed in the same direction. Maybe I'm already going crazy and no one has the heart to tell me. I feel crazy enough.

I curl up, make myself smaller, try to disappear entirely. Wrapped in silence, I slide my bracelet that reads 'mentally disoriented' around and around my wrist.

I don't want anyone with me today. Not even him. Some walks you have to take alone.

Not only does he hate me, and want to kill me, he no longer believes I'm human. It was less painful being strangled.

If he dies, I'll never go home. I'll spend the rest of my life in this arena, trying to think my way out.

I stand there, feeling broken and small, thousands of eyes trained on me.

Then I dive into my tent before I do something stupid like cry.

Maybe he was not cut out to be a lover. Maybe he was more of a loner at heart. Coriolanus Snow, more loner than lover.

When I wake up, the other side of the bed is cold.

Aprieto los ojos con fuerza e intento llegar a él a través cientos de kilómetros de distancia, enviarle mis pensamientos, hacerle saber que no está solo. Pero lo está, y yo no puedo ayudarlo. [pp. 17]

I'm sorry. I'm sorry. I'll stop. It's just...I feel so alone,' she said. 'You're not alone.' He took her hand. 'And you won't be alone in the arena; we'll be together.

He lives alone, no wife or children, most of his waking hours drunk. I don't want to end up like that.

He's sitting alone at the kitchen table, a half-emptied bottle of white liquor in one fist, his knife in the other. Drunk as a skunk.

Ni vista, ni sonido, ni otra sensación que no sea el implacable ardor de la carne.

Un muto de fuego solo percibe una cosa: la agonía. Ni vista, ni sonido, ni otra sensación que no sea el implacable ardor de la carne.

Where are you? I can still make no sense of my surroundings. Where are you?!

He understands I don't want anyone with me today. Not even him. Some walks you have to take alone.

I avoid looking at anyone as I take tiny spoonfuls of fish soup. The saltiness reminds me of my tears.

You know what I won't miss? People. Except for a handful. They're mostly awful, if you think about it.