loneliness

When I look back at myself at age twenty, what I remember most is being alone and lonely. I had no girlfriend to warm my body or my soul, no friends I could open up to. No clue what I should do every day, no vision for the future. For the most part, I remained hidden away, deep within myself. Sometimes, I'd go a week without talking to anybody.

he writer has a grudge against society, which he documents with accounts of unsatisfying sex, unrealized ambition, unmitigated lo neliness, and a sense of local and global distress. The square, overpopulation, the bourgeois, the bomb and the cocktail party are variously identified as sources of the grudge. There follows a little obscenity here, a dash of philosophy there, considerable whining overall, and a modern satirical novel is born.

I peeked in the bag. Do you know what was in there? I'll tell you what was in there: a collapsible tray table. Is there any sadder purchase in this fucking world? Maybe a CD of C+C Music Factory's Greatest Hits, but that's about it.

I cry everyday but for a limited time

In other people's company I felt I was dull, gloomy, unwelcome, at once bored and boring...

And it's good-bye, good-bye, good-bye. Good-bye, my friends, I love you; good-bye, I'm sorry I didn't know you better; good-bye, I'm sorry you'll die soon, too; good-bye, maybe there's hope for you; good-bye, good-bye, good-bye.

Once you connect with yourself, it is impossible to be lonely or desperate.

Nothing has the power to remind you how alone you are like walking through a conglomeration of empty skyscrapers.

Your arms ache to hold someone -- you move in slow motion from one hug to the nextso you won't jostle the warm feeling off your shouldersbefore the next hug comes your way.Your heart feels hollow -- that emptiness screams like an addiction to be filledeven if it means doing hurtful, selfish thingsto get a fix."I understand,"I tell him. "BecauseI've been lonely, too.

Too many thousands of opened books yawned between them and him. He had exiled himself.

loneliness doesn't kill you, but it becomes extremely different when you find it among the crowd.

Dark hair on a white pillow, an ache inside, his face a reflection in her eye.

The perfection of loneliness is you can do whatever you want by yourself.

and the boy's eyes are searching hers with something like loneliness, like the very last thing he wants is to be left behind right now.

Don__ you realize the Internet is just a way for millions of sad people to be completely alone together?

One by one they are being picked off around him: in his small circle of colleagues the ratio slowly grows top-heavy, more ghosts, more each winter, and fewer living... and with each one, he thinks he feels patterns on his cortex going dark, settling to sleep forever, parts of whoever he's been losing all definition, reverting to dumb chemistry...

Loneliness is a crowded room,Full of open hearts turned to stone,All together all alone

We are alone by birth, but we conceal the truth from ourselves till death.