Quotes About Loneliness

transition back to the world outside? The second people felt alone, I noticed, usually in the space between things — leaving a therapy session, at a red light, standing in a checkout line, riding the elevator — they picked up devices and ran away from that feeling. In a state of perpetual distraction, they seemed to be losing the ability to be with others and losing their ability to be with themselves.

I can't walk away from someone I love without saying 'I love you' one last time. I've known how very much I've loved you for a long time. You think I'm a child and I know nothing about the world or about love. But I know about love. I know about loss. And I know about loneliness, and goodbyes, and about never being able to voice those feelings again. "Perhaps you've said those words, Richard, and don't mean them. But I never have.

What good was beauty with no one to share it? Alone, beauty was almost cruel.

It's miserable to feel unwanted for reasons beyond your control.

Ellie closed her eyes and felt the aching loneliness well up inside her chest.

Is there anyone there with you? she asked. He turned his phone so she could see that he was in his bedroom at Vallejo Street, alone except for Pita sleeping on his pillow. I thought she wasn't allowed on your pillow. She's not, he said. But apparently she's the ruler and I'm just her bitch.

Apparently it'd been too long since her last social orgasm...

Kuchi zamishi is a Japanese saying. It's the act of eating because your mouth is lonely

I don't want to be alone in the end." Her soft, mesmerizing mix of vulnerability, pain, and stubbornness got him right in the heart. "So change the ending of your story." She looked at him like he was crazy, and hell, maybe he was. "You make it sound so easy," she said. This made him laugh roughly. "Nothing about love is easy.

I always feared there was something about me. Maybe some inability to be loved that men could sense left over from being raised without family ties. Maybe loneliness is like a flaw men can spot and so shy away from.

The married thing. Sometimes I look at it and feel like someone from a Dickens novel, standing outside in the cold and staring in at Christmas dinner. Relationships hadn't ever really worked for me. I think it's had something to do with all the demons, ghosts, and human sacrifice.

Here had lived someone else who knew that the only thing waiting at home was a sense of loneliness. Sometimes it is comforting. Most often, it isn't.

I hate feeling like Han Solo in a world of Jedi.

Who am I? What have I done with my life? Who can I trust? That last one is a doozy. It haunts you in moments of doubt. Sometimes when you wake up at night, you wonder if you've put your faith in the right people. Sometimes when you find yourself alone, for whatever reason, you review every little thing you know about someone, searching your memory for small, subtle things you may have missed about them.

He died in his sleep one night. An aneurysm, the doctors said. I found him, cold, smiling. Maybe he'd been dreaming of Mother when he went. And as I looked at him, I suddenly felt, for the very first time in my life, utterly, entirely alone. That something was gone that would never return, that a little hole had been hollowed out inside of me that wasn't ever going to be filled again.

Life?" I suggested. She shrugged. "Desire. Loneliness. Joy. Pain." "Life," I said.

All I said was, "I miss you.

The married thing. Sometimes I look at it and feel like someone from a Dickens novel, standing outside in the cold and staring in at Christmas dinner. Relationships hadn't ever really worked for me. I think it's had something to do with all the demons, ghosts, and human sacrifice.

Abusers like to isolate their victims. People who feel that they are completely alone tend not to fight back.

And as I looked at him, I suddenly felt, for the very first time in my life, utterly, entirely alone. That something was gone that would never return, that a little hole had been hollowed out inside of me that wasn't ever going to be filled again.

a door standing open that shouldn't be; a shadow on the floor with no source to cast it; a cat purring and rubbing up against a favorite person—who isn't there.

The married thing. Sometimes I look at it and feel like someone from a Dickens novel, standing outside in the cold and staring in at Christmas dinner.

And as I looked at him, I suddenly felt, for the very first time in my life, utterly, entirely alone. That something was gone that would never return, that a little hole had been hollowed out inside of me that wasn't ever going to be filled again.

Have you ever felt despair, absolute hopelessness? Have you ever stood in the darkness and known deep in your heart, in your spirit, that it was never, ever going to get better? That something had been lost forever and that it wasn't coming back?