Quotes About Despair

I have been in love only once in my life. I suppose that makes me a romantic, in a sense. The idea that you have one true love, that no one else will compare after they have gone. It's a sweet idea, but the reality is terror itself. To be faced with all those lonely years after. To exist when the point of you has gone.

If you have ever believed a depressive wants to be happy, you are wrong. They could not care less about the luxury of happiness. They just want to feel an absence of pain.

She realised that she hadn't tried to end her life because she was miserable, but because she had managed to convince herself that there was no way out of her misery. That, she supposed, was the basis of depression as well as the difference between fear and despair. Fear was when you wandered into a cellar and worried that the door would close shut. Despair was when the door closed and locked behind you.

Life begins,' Sartre once wrote, 'on the other side of despair.

I slipped into a state beyond my usual grief and restlessness and anxiety and despair – one of not feeling anything at all. And when I felt nothing I almost became nostalgic for the grief; at least when you felt pain you knew you were still alive.

An image of a black hole - she realised that's what she was. A black hole. A dying star, collapsing in on itself.

As she stared now at the magazine cover - an image of a black hole - she realised that's what she was. A black hole. A dying start collapsing in on itself.

Will my life be miraculously free from pain, despair, grief, heartbreak, hardship, loneliness, depression? No. But di I want to love? Yes. Yes. A thousand times, yes.

Tears were a kind of language and I felt all language was far away from me. I was beneath tears. Tears were what you shed in purgatory. By the time you were in hell it was too late.

For centuries I have thought all my despair is grief. But people get over grief. They get over even the most serious grief in a matter of years. If not get over then at least live beside. And the way they do this is by investing in other people, through friendship, through family, through teaching, through love.

The Dark Ages never ended.

As she stared at the magazine cover - an image of a black hole - she realized that's what she was. A black hole. A dying star, collapsing in on itself

She had loved no one, and no one had loved her back. She had been empty, her life had been empty, walking around, faking some kind of human normality like a sentient mannequin of despair. Just the bare bones of getting through.

That, she supposed, was the basis of depression as well as the difference between fear and despair. Fear was when you wandered into a cellar and worried that the door would close shut. Despair was when the door closed and locked behind you.

If what I feel were equally distributed to the whole human family, there would not be one cheerful face on the earth. Whether I shall ever be better I cannot tell; I awfully forebode I shall not. To remain as I am is impossible. I must die or be better.

The Last Update That Nora Had Posted Before She Found Herself Between Life and Death I miss my cat. I'm tired.

There was more to her than a flat line of mild to moderate depression, spiced up with occasional flourishes of despair.

What are you feeling?' 'Like I still want to die. I have wanted to die for quite a while. I have carefully calculated that the pain of me living as the bloody disaster that is myself is greater than the pain anyone else will feel if I were to die. In fact, I'm sure it would be a relief. I'm not useful to anyone.

For centuries I have thought all my despair is grief. But people get over grief. They get over even the most serious grief in a matter of years. If not get over then at least live beside. And the way they do this is by investing in other people, through friendship, through family, through teaching, through love. I have been approaching this realisation for some time now.

She realised that she hadn't tried to end her life because she was miserable, but because she had managed to convince herself that there was no way out of her misery.

Because I am clearly destined to be unhappy in other lives too. That is just me. I add nothing. I am wallowing in self-pity. I want to die.

So, I either needed a new me. Or a new planet. And I didn't yet know how to find either. Which is why I felt suicidal.

I, for instance, discovered little moments of happiness, or humor, within despair. I realized things weren't always one thing or another thing. It was sometimes both. And as soon as we notice all that space inside us, we have a new perspective. Yes, there is room for a lot of pain but there is room for other things too.

The town was a conveyor belt of despair.