Every human being wants to be understood, accepted, and valued but more than all of that they want to be recognised. Perhaps being recognised is more important than being loved, and it is what humans want as much as being loved. Perhaps someone cannot truly love you if they don't recognise you, because they don't understand you. I think everyone wants to be understood, even if they have given up on love. A psychopath wants to be understood. If he didn't want to be understood he would have ceased to function as a sentient human being, he would have become a mystic, the only being that does not care for his or her identity at all, is not goaded into action by the motivation of pain or desire - pain and desire being subjectively determined by our individual identities - and hence takes no action to shore that identity up. The only other type of person who does not care about being understood and has absolutely no reference to others and outside action, is someone who is insane.
Every one of us, whether we realise it or not, are moment by moment trying to create ourselves, by each tiny choice we make, by all the minute things we think and say - and think are meaningless but are in fact sourced and have their motivation in others. It isn't surprising, then, that to exist in complete psychic isolation is the worst punishment that can be inflicted on a human being (and on more intelligent animals) and losing that creation - losing our selves - is the hardest thing we can experience. That is why people kill themselves from loneliness all the time but do not kill themselves because they are hated; being hated means you are recognised (though not perhaps understood). Not being recognised at all is worse than being mis-recognised and misunderstood and all three are more difficult to deal with than lack of love. Being extremely lonely means you are invisible - and if, as is the case for most of us - our sense of worth is constituted only by external sources, then that is impossible to live with. Most people never have their entire identity taken away from them so they don't know what this is like. But some do, and I expect most of them don't survive it. Some people will not be conscious of this because they already are recognised and understood and perhaps always have been, or are recognised in a sufficiently high degree for it not to be something they have ever really thought about. Some want to be recognised badly because they never have been, or been only in small amounts.
I don't know if there is yet a sort of writing in which the desire to be understood or find oneself does not enter. I don't think it exists in literary fiction, the ego is always there. In fact in literary fiction, compared to other forms of art, the writer's ego comes into play very strongly; perhaps because words are the medium, and words encourage the cognitive mind to be more active than music or visual images. Ego likes to divide and exclude - that is how recognition of 'me', as distinct from 'you' comes into play. The real challenge is to be inclusive. If there is no place for recognition in personal life or society, a person will very often create a self for themselves, consciously or unconsciously, through art. It this too is unrecognised or misunderstood or ridiculed then an acute desperation ensues, because by this time they may have sacrificed more or less everything else for it. Then some kill themselves because their work has become more themselves than they themselves are.
Any loss, be it of a person, work, possession or position, is only a loss of identity. In that loss there is potentially a freedom, if the challenge, once identity is lost, to keep identity open and not identify with anything at all, is taken up. But this is so difficult. The impulse reasserts itself insidiously and words are a large part of that - even if they are not written or spoken; a large part of explaining to the self what is happening; who it is now; and now; and now.
When the need for words themselves has subsided, then something profound has happened: the self has identified with nothing in particular and the need for recognition is rendered irrelevant. There has been great loss, and if it can remain unverbalised so much the better. There has been great loss, but not of anything real, only of a construct, multiple external reflections, a hall of mirrors that constitute each of our indiviudal identities. It must be a wonderful thing to be happy to be unseen, to be unrecognised, to be no one.
I talk about something similar in an article about identity that appeared in the onilne magazine 'Boundless'. Clicking the image below takes you to the page.