her eyes closed against some
unimagined darkness, where she is buried in an ache
in which nothing makes
sense.

She felt the abyss of disenchantment.

She felt so alien, bowed under culture shock as crippling as migraine.

An indescribable oppression, which seemed to generate in some unfamiliar part of her consciousness, filled her with a vague anguish...like a shadow... a mist passing across her soul's summer day.

I don't know how to explain it. It was a feeling of not knowing where I belong.

to a large extent, this is the fear that I summon and depict, a feeling of simultaneous imminence and abandonment that is difficult to describe to anyone who hasn’t experienced it.

Nothingness haunts being.

She is afraid of crumbling and disappearing, of being taken and being left behind at the same time: a body tumbling between hands while dying inside.

she stands unrecognized by them and unconscious herself of her fantastic power.

You don't know what to expect because it's just completely, existentially out of anything that you've ever experienced before, and it's quite indescribable.

And now she had run into an emptiness more final than any words of rejection. He was gone and would make himself a stranger to her for ever.

An anxiety for being me, forever trapped in myself, floods my whole being without finding a way out, shaping me into tenderness, fear, sorrow and desolation.
An inexplicable surfeit of absurd grief, a sorrow so lonely, so bereft, so metaphysically mine...

Nothingness haunts Being.

One of ennui's most terribel components is the overwhelming feeling of ennui that comes over you whenever you try to explain it.