They say once you have mastered being alone, you are ready for the company of others, that doesn't make it easy though. When everyone's life journey separated from my own, when the only heart beating in this house belonged to me, it wasn't something most could take. For there are days when the brain becomes a cold fire, perhaps that is what others call panic, but when you are alone, who are you going to call? I guess the good news is that in time, after many unpleasant days, you are okay. Then you find joy again, or maybe it finds you. After that, your journey can change, take on new and exciting adventures... I wish I could wave a magic wand for you who are alone, but there are somethings you must learn the hard way, my love.

By Angela Abraham, @daisydescriptionari, February 16, 2019.

This loneliness is a vice on my heart, squeezing with just enough pressure to be a constant pain. It kills me every day just a little bit more, taking what was once my inner light and replacing it with a darkness that overshadows each moment. It is the fuel of my nightmares, the reason I struggle to breathe when a new shock comes. Where is the limit? When comes the point at which dogs are called off and the help begins? Because I need to know; I really need to know.


When friends feel like paper chains in the rain and the sky holds nothing but the promise of more storms, life is lonely. When all I want is a hand to hold or an arm about my shoulders and none comes, the world becomes cold and empty, a slow poison for the soul. We are born to be loved and nurtured, and to do the same for others. We are born to be in tribes with social bonds that last a lifetime. It's times like this I wish I could melt in the rain like those paper people, fade away, anything to stop the ever-present pain.


I like drinking tea alone, and reading alone. I like riding the bus alone and walking home alone. I like eating alone and listening to music alone.
But when I see a mother with her child; a girl with her lover; or friends laughing in the sun... I realise that even though I like being alone... I don't fancy being lonely.

By hunter, August 17, 2016.

There is no one to accompany me today. No, not even the wind as he howls and screeches his way past a damaged lamppost leaving me to mourn my way through the city alone. Today, the buildings are dressed in mourning black; a parting gift from a fiery beast that has vanquished but everything I have held dear. I resent not him but those who have left me to a silence, so deafening that it frightens me, my hopes for a better tomorrow diminishing into the darkening distance.

By rosa2damaskina, August 14, 2016.

Delilah knew the moment she started to cry, she was alone. She cried slowly, with tears dripping down her temples and the soft hum of her own voice echoing throughout the room. She knew she existed and breathed. It was as simple and beautiful as the strumming of a guitar. Yet, she meant nothing to anyone. She was alone, sinking deeper and deeper within her own music.

The rest of the world could be seen, drifting farther and farther away as teardrops made up her ocean. They fell into her parted lips and stuck to her eyelashes. She could taste them, rolling down her parched throat. She was alone.

She had lost herself.

She had lost herself in an endless ocean.

By dev, April 17, 2016.

Loneliness was Keller's only dependable friend, there morning, noon and night. Cigarettes ran out, whiskey ran dry, but always the empty yawning persisted. Nothing ever touched it, not his love affairs or the bar room boys, and never the social media that was his constant poison.


Loneliness eats you alive, swallowing every once of hope you had yet to spare. It feasts upon any happiness you have left, leaving behind empty carcass; full of despair and memories you can't seem to hold onto anymore. It takes your heart into its claws, squeezing out every bit of life you had circulating throughout your opaque veins. It craves for you to suffer a life without any warm hands embracing you, or any shoulders to go cry upon. No this beast wants you to only feel those cold fingertips tracing your soul, getting close to you, yet leaving in the end; abandoning you, once more, for this beast is something you should be afraid off because you have no power over it.

By Paige Keating, April 13, 2014.

Loneliness sounds like such an easy thing to fix: find a friend, reach out to someone who cares. Every time I try they recoil, unwilling to offer an olive branch of hope to the social leper, and so my anxiety deepens. There are nights it takes a hold of me. All I can do in those long black hours is find an enclosed place to shake until the tears subside and I can focus on the dawn light, breathe, drink water. It isn't simply a lack of company, though that's part of it for sure, it's a black hole that grows more powerful with every social snub. It threatens to swallow every part of me, bad and good, until all that's left is a human shaped shell too numb to feel the pain anymore.


The necklace seemed so old, worth no value,
But she held it tightly in her wrinkled hand, string over fingers,
because worth, like beauty, is in the eye of the beholder.
Or rather the heart. Take away the sunshine, and every luxury,
But don’t touch the necklace. It could not be replaced,
And she would not let it out of her sight. When lonely or rejected like tonight,
she took it in hand, and was instantly connected to him – long gone from this world, but materialized by touching this jewel,
Memories flood of his giving the treasure,
at the birth of their only daughter.
Pains easier, harsh words hurt less,
Disappointment faced with that necklace in
her hand. She holds it now, sad
and listens to echoes throughout the house.
She drops the letter to the carpet.
Daughter and granddaughter can’t come - again.

By wmack99, March 4, 2015.

Bill McDonald.


Her loneliness grew steadily until it dominated her emotions. What started out as a nagging feeling became so strong that she resolved to break out of her comfort zone to fine a friend, someone who would talk to her and maybe even share a joke. On an average week she left the house only to buy groceries, the rest of the time she worked online, played online and checked Facebook too often.

By pikachuismine, October 23, 2014.

Although she was lonely she didn't know it. Her doctor prescribed prozac and referred her to the mental health outreach team. The psychiatrist listened to her story and asked particular questions. Then he put down his pad and his pen and leaned toward her just a little. "Mavis," he said, "I'm prescribing you a little dog and a session of bridge at the community centre once a week. There's a nice little program that connects older people with children who'd benefit from a Grandparent figure if you'd be interested." She smiled and nodded, that sounded mighty nice. Then he continued "I'd like to see you in two weeks if that's alright with you, I'd like to chat with you again and see how you're doing."

By pikachuismine, October 23, 2014.

In all the years of her existence, in the many worlds she had seen there was one thing that had always been true: people only see what they want to see. This "Earth" was no different, which was why the infiltration of their world had been effortless. But like all things there was a price to pay.

It never got easier; to be among people and yet somehow be utterly alone. To have everyone believe the lies that weighed heavy upon her soul.

It was her fault. She had chosen the path that lead to having to weave herself into their lives. Naturally they came to love her and once they loved her it became her burden to bear the terrible truth. They only loved her lies and the character she played.

With this truth crept a dark feeling, cold and void of hope. It made every word that slipped from her lips feel dirty. Soon her smiles were reflexive and her eyes were dull, so empty. When she laughed it sounded hallow like the laugh of a man about to die.

Night was always the worst. A hellish kind of isolation where her only company was loneliness and loneliness would never leave.

By krazy, April 25, 2015.

Her friends were as vapid as the winter snow was cold. Their love extended only as far as a social media post, stopping abruptly at the pixellated screen. Their smiles were little yellow faces that stopped coming whenever her world fell apart, which was often. From their posts their lives were one constant party, wine and meals in fancy establishments. Every post fed her loneliness, hacked at the tenuous emotional connections she nursed. She used to only feel the cruel bite of isolation in crowds, now it followed her home, an ever present reminder that she was a failure on every front.