It's a little known fact that there are two kinds of alone. The first is, of course, to be entirely alone and to be surrounded by no one. This is the stereotypical alone. This is the alone that most people mistake to be the only kind. The second kind, however, is the least recognized and the least understood and absolutely and completely the most devastating. It is to be alone in a crowded room. It is to be singled out in a group. It is to be the one person of your kind amongst millions of others and no one knows you and no one understands you and no one is like you
and you
are all
alone.
Steve had been alone for a very long time, before Bucky's miraculous return, before Natasha opened herself up to him and offered to be his friend. He felt isolated. He ate dinner by himself. He had no one to talk to. He had no one to share his pain. There was not one person in the entire world that knew Steve for Steve, knew him before Captain America, knew him with the ups and the downs, knew him when he was angry and when he was depressed and when he was happy, knew him inside out like a puzzle piece. He met new people and made new friends but nothing and I mean nothing could replace the bonds and the friendships he mourned for for two excruciatingly long years all alone. And oh, it hurt. It burned.
The alone destroyed him.