Quotes About Disconnection

I felt as if I were sitting in the window of an enormous department store. The figures around me weren't people, but shop dummies, painted to resemble people and propped up in attitudes counterfeiting life.

I made a decision about Doreen that night. I decided I would watch her and listen to what she said, but deep down I would have nothing at all to do with her.

I'd say go to hell, but I never want to see you again.

Entonces Constantino y la intérprete rusa y todo aquel montón de hombres negros y blancos y amarillos discutiendo allá abajo detrás de sus micrófonos rotulados parecieron alejarse en la distancia. Vi sus bocas subir y bajar sin sonido, como si estuvieran sentados en la cubierta de un buque que partía, dejándome en medio de un enorme silencio.

Acontece que eu não estava conduzindo nada, nem a mim mesma. Eu só pulava do meu hotel para o trabalho e para as festas, e das festas para o hotel e então de volta ao trabalho, como um bonde entorpecido. Imagino que eu deveria estar entusiasmada como a maioria das outras garotas, mas eu não conseguia me comover com nada. (Me sentia muito calma e muito vazia, do jeito que o olho de um tornado deve se sentir, movendo-se pacatamente em meio ao turbilhão que o rodeia.)

I knew perfectly well the cars were making a noise, and the people in them and behind the lit windows of the buildings were making a noise, and the river was making a noise, but I couldn't hear a thing. The city hung in my window, flat as a poster, glittering and blinking, but it might just as well not have been there at all, for all the good it did me.

Sabía que debía estarle agradecida a la señora Guinea, sólo que no podía sentir nada. Si la señora Guinea me hubiera dado un pasaje a Europa, o un viaje alrededor del mundo, no hubiera habido la menor diferencia para mí, porque donde quiera que estuviera sentada -en la cubierta de un barco o en la terraza de un café en París o en Bangkok- estaría sentada bajo la misma campana de cristal, agitándome en mi propio aire viciado.

We are the hollow men We are the stuffed men

For you know only a heap of broken images

and now you live dispersed on ribbon roads, And no man knows or cares who is his neighbor Unless his neighbor makes too much disturbance, But all dash to and fro in motor cars, Familiar with the roads and settled nowhere.

Son of man, You cannot say, or guess, for you know only A heap of broken images

Everyone who is educated today wants to sit at a comfortable desk under a fan and live in an air-conditioned house surrounded by a garden, coming and going in an American car as wide as the street. If we do not tear out this disease by the roots we shall have with us a bourgeoisie that is in no way connected with the reality of our life...

separated from you. I

I won't be alive so I won't care who finds me.

You know that dejection that comes upon you when you realize that the person you're talking to might as well be from Jupiter, for all the chance you have of making them get what you're saying? I hate that.

Oare cunosc si altii spaima de-a merge pe-o strada gandindu-te cu deznadejde la toate strazile pe care nu te afli, strazile unde cei care ar vrea sa te cunoasca te asteapta si pleaca, nevazand pe nimeni venind?

Pedacinho por pedacinho, desliguei-a. Vi luzes se apagando uma após a outra. Observei o espaço Cansino retroceder. Primeiro sumiram as galáxias, logo em seguida as estrelas, e então: trevas, somente o fundo das minhas pálpebras.

I lost a boyfriend over Elmore James. You know that moment when you send mixtapes at fifteen? He sent me pop hits, and I sent him Elmore James, and I never heard from him again.

If he wants to blow his head off, let him. I don't give a damn about Jim Bakker.

When I drive 'home' and leave you, it makes me feel like I'm driving to nowhere - to nothing - to a place that doesn't make me feel.

Sometimes I feel I have nothing in common with anyone. I shamble through the day, […] and each new hour with each new person is a cliff I can't climb —

We were like deaf people trying to dance to a beat we couldn't hear, long after the music actually stopped.

Some people—like a festering finger or a leg shattered beyond repair—just needed to be removed.

For me, vulnerability led to anxiety, which led to shame, which led to disconnection, which led to Bud Light.