Tag Page LonelyReads

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Literature is full of loneliness, but which line hits you the hardest?

For me, it’s this one — not a direct quote, but it feels like it could be from One Hundred Years of Solitude: “She didn’t care that it was raining, because in her life it had always rained.” I know it’s not the original line — but the feeling? Dead on. What about you? What’s the loneliest sentence in literature you’ve ever read? #Entertainment #Books #LonelyReads

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my solitude is a garden: walking with Adonis

There are days when solitude feels like exile — dry, endless, almost unbearable. And then there are days when I read Adonis, and I remember: solitude can also bloom. In his poems, exile isn’t just pain. It’s fire, it’s flight, it’s a decision to grow something beautiful in the middle of ruin. He writes, “My solitude is a garden where my soul walks in silence.” It’s not the kind of loneliness that crushes you. It’s the kind that transforms — that burns away the old world to make space for a new one. Reading him, I stopped fearing the silence. I started planting things in it. #Entertainment #Books #LonelyReads #Adonis

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Whoever is alone now will remain so forever.

I’m not from here. Not from anywhere, really. The world feels like a distant image behind glass. People pass by like smoke. No echo when I speak. Rainer Maria Rilke once wrote: "I am not from here, nor from elsewhere. The world to me is a strange scene. Fire burns — but I am not in the ashes. Whoever is alone now will remain so forever." Some sentences don’t ask to be understood. They just sit beside you, quietly, like truth. #Entertainment #Books #LonelyReads #Rilke

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the loneliness of not hustling: feeling out of sync with American life

Scrolling through my feed, it’s hard not to feel like I’m missing something. Everyone’s chasing the next big thing — side hustles, networking events, endless productivity hacks. Hustle culture isn’t just encouraged here; it feels like a requirement. But I don’t want that. I don’t want to live in a constant race, measuring my worth by how busy I am or how many goals I check off. It’s lonely to admit that. In a society that praises “grind till you shine,” choosing a slower path makes you feel like an outsider. Like you don’t belong. David Foster Wallace once said, “The most obvious, important realities are often the ones that are hardest to see and talk about.” The reality is, this pressure to always do more and be more can be suffocating. And admitting you don’t want that — well, it isolates you. But maybe that loneliness is a signal, not a failure. Maybe it’s the space where I can finally hear myself think. And maybe, just maybe, the greatest accomplishment is “to be yourself in a world that is constantly trying to make you something else.” (Ralph Waldo Emerson) #Entertainment #Books #LonelyReads #DavidFosterWallace #RalphWaldoEmerson

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how loneliness helped me find myself

There was a time when loneliness felt like a trap — a dark pit I couldn’t climb out of. But then I stumbled upon Joan Didion’s The Year of Magical Thinking. Reading her words was like sitting beside someone who’s been through heartbreak and still found a way forward. She wrote honestly about grief, silence, and the messiness of being human. One line stayed with me: “We tell ourselves stories in order to live.” At first, I thought it meant we need distractions to survive. But slowly, I understood it differently — we tell stories to make sense of ourselves, to heal. In those quiet moments alone, I started piecing together my own story. I stopped running from solitude and began embracing it as a chance to really listen — to my fears, hopes, and truths. Loneliness became less of a prison and more of a mirror, reflecting parts of me I’d never seen before. That kind of quiet isn’t empty. It’s full of hidden voices, waiting to be heard. #Entertainment #Books #LonelyReads #JoanDidion

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when silence starts to feel louder than noise

I never understood how loud silence could be—until I started eating dinner alone. Not once or twice, but for months. At first it felt like freedom. No small talk. No social pressure. Just me and my thoughts. I even lit a candle once, trying to make it poetic. But somewhere around week six, I noticed I had started talking to the TV—not because it was interesting, but because I missed the sound of being heard. I read a line from Joan Didion that said, “We tell ourselves stories in order to live.” It hit me. I had stopped telling stories. There was no audience. No need to perform. But also, no reflection. Loneliness doesn’t always feel like crying on the floor. Sometimes it looks like doing your dishes in silence for the fourth night in a row. #Entertainment #Books #LonelyReads

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how joan didion helped me find myself in the quiet

I used to think loneliness was my enemy — something to run from, fix, or ignore. Then I read Joan Didion. Her words didn’t shout or demand attention. They whispered. Like a friend who’s been through the dark and knows the way out. Reading The Year of Magical Thinking was like sitting with someone who understood that grief isn’t just sadness. It’s confusion. Anger. Silence. And sometimes, the silence is the hardest part. Didion’s honesty taught me that feeling lost or broken doesn’t mean you’re weak. It means you’re human. I found myself in her sentences — pieces of my own silence put into words. Loneliness didn’t disappear, but it changed shape. It became a space where I could finally be honest with myself. That kind of quiet? It’s not empty. It’s full of possibility. #Entertainment #Books #LonelyReads #JoanDidion

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