Books About Loneliness Novels & Stories

Too fast to even react or make a protest, Clay smirks as he crashes his lips unto him as the door closes. Now, tell me what could it be? But a rather skyline? “The most terrible loneliness is in loving someone completely, deeply, and without reserve and knowing you’re not loved that way in return.” ----- Anonymous -----

But no matter how much I love the LORD, and how much he loves me, I still know very well that I am very single and lonely. I am of marriageable age, but I don't have a boyfriend. Talk more of a fiancé who hopes to marry me. I feel lonely, but I am fully able to mask my pain. I chat with my readers, throw book signing programs, hang out with the girls, spend time with my cat, and surf the internet, but deep down, whenever I'm not in my story world, and I'm alone, the truth creeps back to me. It hovers over me to remind me of how much I crave the warmth and love of a life partner. It scares me you know? Wondering if I'd remain single till I die, or if I'm strong enough for that.

"Not right now, but please take some time to read this. I wasn't sure I wanted to show you, but I think its the easiest way to explain everything." I pick up the book and flip through it. There are notes and bits of paper taped inside. Little drawings fill the edges. Some pages are inked completely black. "You want me to read your journal? It seems a little intrusive, Pocket." She drops her shoulders and blows a puff of air out of her mouth. “Have you ever felt lonely?” “Yeah, of course. Everyone feels lonely sometimes, Zara.” I pull her chair so she’s sitting closer to me. Maybe being closer to me, she won't feel so lonely. "I told you that was why I acted the way I used to."

Armani‘s pov I wouldn’t actually blame the reason for my loneliness on the fact that I’m always around lovebirds all day long, because I know damn well that I was lonely even when I was in Los Angeles. But, perhaps, the fact that I’m always around a pair of lovebirds might have made me start to dwell more and more on the fact that I’m indeed lonely. That’s what prompted me into deciding on visiting the club tonight, because I tried to fight that loneliness feeling away for a while, but nothing seemed to be working out no matter how much I tried.

It was into this quiet emptiness that Elise ventured, accompanied by a now-breathless Abby who immediately darted off again, her mission accomplished. "So," Elise began, leaning against the doorframe and surveying my quiet room with a sympathetic eye. "Isn't this incredibly, mind-numbingly, soul-crushingly boring? Aren't you lonely here?" I let out a dry chuckle, gesturing vaguely at the four walls that had become my universe. "I mean, yeah. It's a curated experience in solitude. No phone, no TV, no internet, no background noise except the occasional argumentative chicken. Just me, my thoughts, and the literary adventures of a very hungry caterpillar and a giving tree. It's… quiet."

There was a difference between trusting someone to the point of not worrying about them to not even thinking about them. It was a lonely spot to be in, it caused you to act careless, reckless even to make someone finally see you for whatever you were. He was still gone, as I searched through the books I had bought, he had bought for me. And I came across the book I had bought for his sister, I grabbed my pen and wrote out a note with my number attached to it. I could only imagine how lonely those hospital floors are. I had read the whole series of the book, I held in my hands you would need someone to talk through it with. I took the book in my hands, and slipped it into Dallas's room just o

I want my mates to look down at me from the sky and know that someone below is ready to give her life for them. I laid on the large bed for hours, despite the large space in the house, I felt constricted, the need to go out and socialize fighting to take over my form. Loneliness can be maddening and without me taking note, it was slowly taking over my sanity, turning me into someone I was not. I need to do something, just anything to take my mind off this thought. Instinctively rounding my hand around my tummy, I pulled myself up from the bed to a sitting form.

Well, her one friend. Being social, it just wasn't for her. It never really came easy for her; over time people began to become hard to understand and demanding for each other's attention—something she couldn't give. When the people around her began to feel like paper chains in the rain, and the sky hold nothing but the promise of storms, life is lonely. Loneliness was Harlow's only dependable friend these days, there morning, noon and night. It always remained there, like no matter what she did to extinguish it, it remained ever untouched and never moving. Like there was something missing, something that can forever dissolve that never wavering loneliness.

Then I whispered the part humanity keeps relearning across every generation: “But loneliness destroys people quietly.” Silence crashed across the network. Deep. Emotional. Real. Because readers understood that truth intimately. How isolation slowly empties people from the inside. How pretending not to need anyone eventually becomes its own kind of suffering. The pain-entity trembled nearby. Smaller now. Less monstrous. And suddenly It spoke softly. Not screaming. Not raging. Almost human. “I was alone too long.” Tears burned my eyes instantly. Because that sentence explained so much human suffering.

I won’t stand it. This is my house. My space. My rules. And I refuse to let her disrupt any of it. I don’t keep staff here, not even male staff, for a reason. I know what loneliness does to people. It makes them careless. It makes them reach for connection where they shouldn’t. Let someone get too close, and suddenly they’re seeing parts of you you’ve worked hard to bury. They listen. They understand. And that’s where it starts. You open up and soften.