Books About Loneliness Novels & Stories

POV: ISLA WINTERS ROMANO (Flashback - Six Years Earlier, Age 22) The first month of marriage taught me what loneliness really meant. I'd thought I understood loneliness before, growing up as the daughter who didn't quite fit, the sister who wasn't quite good enough, the student who studied alone while everyone else went to parties. But that had been solitude. Aloneness by circumstance. This was different. This was lying next to someone in spirit, sharing a home, a name, a life and being more alone than if you'd been by yourself.

Noticing what they were trying to do, she just wouldn’t let it go. ‘Look at the terminally ill who are no longer being treated, so they’ll have enough empty beds for potential viral patients who, by the way, may never come. Or what about the emotionally impoverished who are in isolation now? Loneliness is the biggest suicide driver, hundreds of studies have proven.’

Dinner would follow until all the dishes were served, even if the evening partner was the worst company in the world. I had the bad luck of being chosen by a man who only knew how to talk about his career and how much money he had. I thought he was comparing it to me, since lately my name stamped important headlines. When the night ended, I left him alone at the table and returned home, upset and with even more disastrous experiences to tell in my books. Participating in the program ended up serving as a therapy for loneliness. The more assholes I knew, the more my books sold, and the more ideas waited at the end of the day.

Her bed was neatly laid, and the room was tidy. As Eleanor went out and she'd soon be back, Harrison laid on her bed, expecting what he knew too well was not coming back home. Loneliness kicked in, he needed her badly. You never know what you have until you lose it, that quote was proving itself to him at the moment. He opened a book he found on her table, took him moments to realize she was putting all her thoughts in the book, more like a mini diary. 06/3/23

Liam asked directly. Anna was annoyed and pouted. The romantic atmosphere was ruined by him. “What’s loneliness? I don’t know.” “Loneliness is…” Liam thought for a while, his voice became soft, “When you don’t like sleeping alone on a bed.” His voice, as gentle as a feather, brushed her heart lightly. She felt herself melting, then she shouted at the phone. “Loneliness is when you lie on the bed, thinking about things that you can’t do alone!” Anna hung up the phone angrily.

The constant changes in his environment, the endless stream of new faces and unfamiliar places, had left him feeling disconnected, lost, and alone. His loneliness was a palpable, suffocating presence, a heavy mist that clung to him like a shroud. I felt his despair, a yawning chasm that seemed to stretch out before him like an endless, dark sea. It was as if he was drowning in his own emotions, unable to find a lifeline to cling to. The desperation of his situation was crushing, making it hard for me to breathe, as if I was submerged in the depths of his sorrow, with no escape in sight.

He gently adjusted the lapel of my coat. "Now you stand differently." I hadn't noticed. But maybe he was right. Perhaps healing didn't always happen dramatically. Maybe sometimes... It simply showed itself in posture, in breathing. In the way someone entered a room. Despite everything, there were still moments when loneliness found me. Usually unexpectedly. Passing a bookstore where couples browsed quietly together. Watching an elderly pair share lunch beside the river. Hearing someone laugh in a way that reminded me of another life. The ache never completely disappeared.

I never would have suspected that my neighbour was anything other than an extremely respectable lady, widowed, retired, fairly well off, comfortable in her own company, but I was so wrong. Beryl, and my wife, got along famously and often visited with each other for long chats which held no interest for me and consequently I spent those visits inn my den with my laptop. I read an article on a website about loneliness particularly in late middle age and especially after losing a loved one, and I wondered if this affected our neighbour.

“If you’ve ever felt lonely, and a character feels lonely too, suddenly you’re not alone anymore. If you’ve ever felt bullied, kicked around, or cast out, and you see a character face the same thing, it feels like you find a kindred spirit. Like a long lost soul twin.” My chest tightened. She didn’t know, but she’d just explained to me. Anytime I painted or sketched or drew, I created the versions of the emotions I’d felt at the time. Pain, anger, loneliness, passion, and lately….desire. The entire class remained silent; even the idiots who’d usually howl or say something stupid stayed quiet. “Books or any other form of art remind people they’re not the only ones struggling. They help people

Brandon said just before closing the book and turning off the lamp next to him with the intention of going to sleep. What was the reality of what he was feeling deep in his soul? For the first time in so long, loneliness hit him again, even if he thought loneliness had always been on his side. It was Crystal who came from one moment to the next and showed him what loneliness was in his life. As soon as the new day came, he would come for her.