I Have Perfected The Art Of Loneliness

Every individual has times in their life where they feel isolated and alone. When this occurrs a person will search for ways to connect or feel important.. The person will do anything they can to be noticed and appreciated. In the novel, Famous All Over Town, by Danny Santiago the main character, Chato, has many reasons to feel lonely. In almost every aspect of his life he is being let down in one way or another. He has to try to deal with a family on the brink of falling apart, he has to go to a school which doesn't teach anything "fun," and he has friends that are a bad influence on him. The novel reveals how he has to endure hardships, most of us do not have, to get through a day. By the end of the novel the reader begins to understand

loneliness. She used a variety of techniques to convey these ideas clearer to the viewers

In life, there are many times where an individual may feel alone. Personally, this past week can attest to that notion. Moving into a college dorm, saying goodbye to my loved ones, and taking on a new chapter in my life, have all been accompanied by a new set of emotions that I have never felt before: homesickness, freedom, peer-pressure. However, looking around everyone seems happy, and it feels as if I am trapped in a space that no one else appears to be in. But, internally they may be battling the same struggles that I am. That is what can be drawn from “The Wisdom of Sociology: Sam Richards at TedxLacador,” the idea that behind the facade, our personal struggles are all connected.

Loneliness is usually a common and unharmful feeling, however, when a child is isolated his whole life, loneliness can have a much more morbid effect. This theme, prevalent throughout Ron Rash’s short story, The Ascent, is demonstrated through Jared, a young boy who is neglected by his parents. In the story, Jared escapes his miserable home life to a plane wreck he discovers while roaming the wilderness. Through the use of detached imagery and the emotional characterization of Jared as self-isolating, Rash argues that escaping too far from reality can be very harmful to the stability of one’s emotional being.

William Deresiewicz is a contemporary writer, reviewer, and literary critic. He taught at Yale University from 1998 to 2008. This essay, "The End of Solitude," that Deresiewicz wrote, explains with the mixture of new technology it is becoming almost unheard of for people to be alone. He also goes on explaining that newer generations have no aspiration to be alone because they are afraid to be alone. But once upon a time it used to be the situation that people extremely respected alone time. Deresiewicz also explained that technology came at a point in time where children were scared to play outside for fear of crime on their city block or in their city. Technology came at a great time to connect people, plus entertain and teach kids. He then goes on that the idea of boredom is a very negative concept. The newer generation people fear that being bored is like being alone. His main points overall can be outlined back to a fear of loneliness and solitude.

In Edith Wharton’s novel Ethan Frome, the setting is in Starkfield, Massachusetts, a small, stale, freezing town with people tending to gossip about everyone. Ethan has been faced with many difficulties; the death of his parents, his “sickly” wife Zenobia, and the arrival of Mattie Silver. The author uses Ethan’s personal and societal past events to show how one’s feeling of isolation can cause one to seek comfort in another being.

As my breath fills the open-air with a cool and foggy mist, I wonder what would have happened if I hadn't gone on this trip. As I look down all I see is clothes covered in dirt and I wonder when the last time That Susan had got a chance to wash This Set of clothes when I look around i see some familiar faces and some I can't make out. These mountains have taken us days to climb. Most say that we are almost to the top but I fear that we still have very far to go. A fresh layer of snow lays atop the wagons, Susan is laying down bundled in a thin blanket inside the wagon, Father is getting old, And i'm starting to think that he might not ever see california. If he doesn't make it it would be just me and Susan, I don't think that i'll have time

Loneliness can be fixed with a simple act of kindness. When someone warms the victim’s heart, they break the chains that hold them in solitude. If the victim is neglected, the chains will only get longer and thicker until they cannot be broken. In Out of the Dust, by Karen Hesse, the main protagonist, Billie Jo Kempe, was the one in chains. Despite her accomplishments and desire to be loved, her parents never praised her like she hoped, and life seems to never go Billie’s way.

“Will you help me lift this into the truck?” My mind becomes distorted as I’m taken from that abstract place, the place where I find comfort in the doubts and reason in the foolishness. I’m brought to the bare field filled only with my family, dog, and the broken tree destroyed by the a man providing heat for his children during the frigid months of

Plopping down onto an empty chair in the back corner of the cafeteria, the food isn’t what you ate. Instead, it was an empty feeling that engulfed you. Loneliness, the subject of countless books and poems: the movie where a new kid at school is socially isolated, the T-V show where a couple went their separate ways after a breakup, or a book in which an orphan makes it through the dreary days. It is taints your existence when we feel like the only ones. An emotion that can mean desperate attempts to go back into the pack, or something to just endure as you cut tangled ties.

The air is so thick with anticipation that it seems to weigh our voices to all but a whisper. Our heads turned outward, eyes open and wanting, searching for a place to settle on the fast moving terrain. The road ahead stretches on for miles, disappearing little by little under our feet at a pace that seems like walking. The time on the clock seems to strain each minute, trying to hold on to the present as long as possible; so slowly it changes, one might think it to be broken. The walls around our bodies seem to close in with every mile, driving us closer to each other ‘till our shoulders brush in rhythm with the bumps on the highway. Slowly, as time moves on, the miles melt away and our voices begin to rise; pushing the stuffy air away and

The ruckus from the bottom of the truck is unbearable, because of the noise and excessive shaking. As we slowly climbed the mountain road to reach our lovely cabin, it seemed almost impossible to reach the top, but every time we reached it safely. The rocks and deep potholes shook the truck and the people in it, like a paint mixer. Every window in the truck was rolled down so we could have some leverage to hold on and not loose our grip we needed so greatly. The fresh clean mountain air entered the truck; it smelt as if we were lost: nowhere close to home. It was a feeling of relief to get away from all the problems at home. The road was deeply covered with huge pines and baby aspen trees. Closely examining the

The car ride wasn’t that long but it felt like forever. Once we got out of my familiar range of York my mind drifted off the anticipation but it still stayed close behind. The music coming from the car was blurred from my lack of attention to it. The sound of my dad’s voice on another business call coming from the front was also put to the side as all my attention was intentivly directed to my phone. Scrolling through feeds and games the log eternity of the car ride drew more intense. Though it was only an hour or two, boredom set in unusually fast. My mom sat quietly in the passenger seat doing the same as I, mindlessly passing the time, ignoring the anticipation. The distinguished right turn that my dad knew not to miss changed to cars gravity to the left shifting everything with it. As we made our way closer to our destination the scenery started to look more like Nebraska then the Mason Dixon Line.

The ride down to the elephant camp couldn’t have been worse. Eight of us had each been packed into a songthaew - a very small bus-like vehicle - facing each other. Humid air clung to my body like wet clothes; the pungent odor of body sweat clogging my lungs. Outside, the scenery rushed past me in a blur of color. By the time we flew around a curve so sharp it almost caused me to project my morning’s breakfast into the lap of

All throughout the week, he stayed indoors, aside from the occasional store visit, playing video games, watching TV, and occasionally working on his homework for his classes was how he bid most of his time. If not for the lights in the windows, you’d swiftly presume the room was empty. Every now and then he would get bored, however, he’d just find another endeavor in which to amuse himself. He never regretted the insular life, for fear that it would make him feel insignificant and superfluous. Not having to worry about people judging him, noticing him, or even caring about his judgement, like they often did. He knew the only think that couldn’t criticize him, was him, and, as a result, he preferred solitude. He had planned on texting his friends, but just kept telling himself that he was better off, without the extra hassle of talking to people. Suddenly the door to his dorm began to jiggle and familiar voices could be heard from the other side. He nonchalantly continued playing his video games, as he did all break. Weary