aloneliness

When you're standing alone at a bus stop that has no shelter waiting for a bus that comes never on time and only twice an hour, while everybody is warm in their cars, looking happy with their families and certain of their near future; and the wintery wind sweeps you constantly, and your skin itches for no reason, and your tummy is rumbling, and your nose is bleeding, and your throat is dry, and your bag is heavy with the daily collection of newspapers and free tabloids, and you think of your unwell dad and uncaring mum, you feel it intensely.

This must be what loneliness is.