lonely

People whose own dreams aren't completed, help others to accomplish their dreams.

The thick baffling blades of false world customs rip off my views and ideas,like breaking every string of my aesthetic thoughts in disdain and jealousy;pain pain enough your tigrine roars before I die.

Ah! listen the song of storm from my disturbed soul;and it scatters flower buds into its lonely halls;like every pain needs a dirge,with wreaths that awful the world framed one for me,and gives the time it calls.

I'm bad for you. I told you I will break you and I will. I wish I knew how not to. I can't. I'm sorry. You have to take me like this...

There is no such thing as a boring person when you are lonely or extremely bored.

Many want to be a warrior but they don't know what a lonely, tough, or pain staking journey it is. Warriors have to fight on behalf of the defenseless, defend what is right, as well as fight believers and non-believers alike. In reality, few like warriors because they confront their own, and their own think they're above being confronted. The warrior, you see, most often walks alone.

Being bored is the price we pay for not being insane.

Loneliness tortures many if not most of the elderly more intensely and more frequently than it torments many if not most of us who will never be or have not yet been pushed or pulled into old age.

She was completely alone in the world. There was no one at all for her. No one in the world who cared whether she lived or died. Sometimes the horror of that thought threatened to overwhelm her and plunge her down into a bottomless darkness from which there would be no return. If no one in the entire world cared about you, did you really exist at all?

People who do a job that claims to be creative have to be alone to recharge their batteries. You can__ live 24 hours a day in the spotlight and remain creative. For people like me, solitude is a victory.

My life is like an autumn leafI lie around unclaimed.The breeze blows me around,To be trampled under the feet of men.Natures cruel feast has bestowed me with pain,Pain of being a part,Just a part of someone.Pain of departing,Departing from that one.Pick me up like a rose,And hold me to your heart.Keep me there till he does not come.And when he comes do a good deed,Dig the earth below,And bury me deepFor I don't want to lie around,Unclaimed, unloved.

Everyone always believes him to be the person they think he is, which in truth is no one

I__ jealous _ not of their money to spend, but jealous that, for them, going home is a simple matter of turning down the correct lane.

I loved him the way some people are to be loved - from a distance.

It__ like there are a million screams caught inside of my chest but I have to keep them all in because what__ the point of screaming if you__l never be heard and no one will ever hear me in here. No one will ever hear me again.

Do you ever feel that way?""Lonely?"I search for the words. "Restless. As if you haven't really met yourself yet. As is you'd passed yourself once in the fog, and your heart leapt - 'Ah! There I Am! I've been missing that piece!' But it happens too fast, and then that part of you disappears into the fog again. And you spend the rest of your days looking for it."He nods, and I think he's appeasing me. I feel stupid of having said it. It's sentimental and true, and I've revealed a part of myself I shouldn't have."Do you know what I think?" Kartik says at last."What?""Sometimes, I think you can glimpse it in another.

You're reaching outAnd no one hears you cryYou're freaking out again'Cause all your fearsRemind you another dream has come undoneYou feel so small and lost like you're the only oneYou wanna scream 'cause you'reDesperateYou want somebody, just anybodyTo lay their hands on your soul tonightYou want a reason to keep believin'That someday you're gonna see the lightYou're in the darkThere's no one left to callAnd sleep's your only friendWell even sleepCan't hide you from all those tearsAnd all the pain and all the daysYou wasted pushin' them awayIt's your life, it's time you face it

Such was the case with most unhappy students; they avoided even one another, so intent on their own unhappiness they failed to notice the other lost souls around them.