Writers are the loneliest of humans.
In the day by day routine of life, we are regular people–well, as normal as one can get.
But as writers, we carve prisons out of our words. We create unknown worlds that fascinate us, but no one cares to listen. True, they may read the stories we make, but they will never know how much was put into it. All the back-stories of the characters, the entire layout of the scenes, the paragraphs they never saw.
There is so much readers do not know–so much trapped inside our minds that slowly, beautifully, kill us.