Being lonely even when people are around.

Jolenetaylor5513

I hate the feeling of being lonely even when I have my while family around during all the time. Mable something is missing? But what could it be....

Jolenetaylor5513

Wow, never saw it like that

Francl27

There's only a handful people in my life that don't make me feel lonely when I'm with them, so I hear you.

NorthCascades

You can walk through a crowd of people and feel lonely. Or you can go into the wilderness with one other person, the right person, and not feel lonely at all. So it's not about counting heads. It's about connecting with people on a deep and intimate (that word doesn't have to mean sexual) way.

Sometimes anxiety and depression can make people feel like they're surrounded by a wall, it can cut them off from other people. Even when those other people are there for them.

I found this beautiful and poignant:

Christmas Eve comes in on a north wind. Snow clouds hang over the pines, and the night comes early. Walking along the railroad bed, I feel the calm peace of snowbound forests on either side of me. I take my time; I am back in a world where time does not mean so much now. I am alone; alone but not nearly so lonely as I was back on the campus at school. Those are never lonely who love the snow and the pines; never lonely when the pines are wearing white shawls and snow crunches coldly underfoot. In the woods I know there are tracks of deer and rabbit; I know that if I leave the rails and go into the woods I shall find them. I walk along feeling glad because my legs are light and my feet seem to know that they are home. A deer comes out of the woods ahead of me, and stands silhouetted on the rails. The North, I feel, has welcomed me home. I watch him and am glad that I do not wish for a gun. He goes into the woods quietly, leaving only the design of his tracks in the snow. I walk on. Now and then I pass a field, white under the night sky, with houses at the far end. Smoke comes from the chimneys of the houses, and I try to tell what sort of wood each is burning by the smoke; some burn pine, others aspen, others tamarack. There is one from which comes black coal smoke that rises lazily and drifts out over the tops of the trees. I like to watch houses and try to imagine what might be happening in them.