George Orwell once said: The most terrible loneliness is not the kind that comes from being alone, but the kind that comes from being misunderstood; the loneliness of standing in a crowded room, surrounded by people who do not see you, who do not hear you, who do not know the true essence of who you are. And in that loneliness, you feel as though

“I wanted very much not to be where I was. In fact part of the trouble seemed to be that where I was wasn’t anywhere at all. My life felt empty and unreal and I was embarrassed about its thinness, the way one might be embarrassed about wearing a stained or threadbare piece of clothing. I felt like I was in danger of vanishing, though at the same

twin peaks “there is a sadness in this world” / richard jackson “sometimes I don’t know how to live in the world. why is there always this scent of sorrow?” / hayden carruth “I had always been aware that the universe is sad; everything in it, animate or inanimate, the wild creatures, the stones, the stars, was enveloped in the great sadness,