Haven't felt that lonely for years. It is not paradoxical. It is only that no one sees it as I do now. I would trample with anger on anyone's attempt to show commiseration, should it be the most sincere, since--I do address to the very most of all you--you cannot understand. A very few could ease it but don't.
Not that I would really be in touch with people. There are some levels of sadness which you can display out in the open, and receive with grace and gratefulness any signs of sympathy. There are other levels where it is much too serious to be told, and where one withdraws behind a mask of insensitivity. A wall too fragile, about to explode under the pressure if ever exposed to any communication.
I'm struggling against the memories, barring the way to everything that fatally rises and comes up when about to leave. Trying harder than usual to forget things more vivid than ever. It feels like I could have the strongest bouts of anger, and in a second fall into complete apathy, and not feel anything at all. I feel like rocks washed over by the sea. I cannot do anything to that, I cannot help anything.
And I am overdramatic. It is not pretty fair from me to say that. I'm just getting ready to throw it in the face of the first one to suggest half of it. Terrible to think that for a while now I can't help expecting the deepest wounds to be made just where it hurts the most, by the only people to which the fragile zones are accessible. A threat from the inside, or heart side.  Even sadder is the idea that I don't see myself able to make up any meaningful answer to it, an answer in which I would be right--rather furbishing arms, and hitting back. I'll be hard to disarm, though I doubt the very few who possibly could would even be aware they can try, or even care to realise.
Or maybe I just fear not to be taken seriously. Or fear this is in fact not to be taken seriously.
Sadness sometimes strikes me down, besides how it continuously empties me from any will or energy, it sometimes brutally takes all basic, simple living energy away, removes the ground from under my feet, and I have to lie down and am lying in my bed half-sleeping for hours.

Writing still helps, a bit,
This is here for one to acknowledge, and for the others to know they ought to stay away,
Not say a word, not have read it for it does not exist, for nothing exists, and for I don't exist myself.

Until further notice/