She was a loud girl, louder than most. And she’d say things her classmates wouldn’t, so she wouldn’t have to say the thing she wanted to say, to say the thing that would get her in trouble. She liked the attention without the consequence. And when you boil it all down, who doesn’t?
Response to 3/23/14: Selective
She finally chose. No cake was perfect–good enough, right enough. No lemon or chocolate for her. Fondant was out. And yet she needed to choose. And so she opted out of cake and went with pie instead.
She was a loud girl, louder than most. And she’d say things her classmates wouldn’t, so she wouldn’t have to say the thing she wanted to say, to say the thing that would get her in trouble. She liked the attention without the consequence. And when you boil it all down, who doesn’t?
Why wont you let me be me? I try, and I try. I pull at these strings that hold me back, that tell me what to do. You push my feelings down, everything I want to say is stemmed before it can be expressed.
Suddenly all those memories that had been repressed for so many years came flooding back to him. The images flashing from the television cut into his eyes like knives, the clanging squall of sound ripped at his ears like claws. In an instant he was back there, living it again – he could feel the sequins, smell the hairspray; all it took was a Duran Duran video on MTV to drag him back to the Eighties!
He repressed the feeling in his heart. It was ridiculous to let her in and let her get to him when he chose to shut everyone out. He could not go through it again. Losing someone else would be too much for him to handle. If he could only overcome this…
She stared at her arm, not wanting to remember how she got that scar that snaked its way around her wrist up toward her elbow. She repressed her emotions and started writing again. It was the only way to get her mind off of the terrible things she knew happened to her. The things that she was pretty sure she brought on herself, and didn’t want to face.
Repression is when you feel as though your spirit cannot be free. You are forced into being someone who you are not meant to be. Your deepest feelings remain underneath the exterior you are forced, against your will, to withhold due to various expectations.
He repressed the memory along with so many others. If he didn’t remember, it never happened. If it never happened, there were no scars. If there were no scars, he wasn’t broken. He was fine. Fine.
He swallowed dryly and looked away from the mirror. He was fine. Nothing happened.
I feel repressed. Like there’s a storm in my chest, a tempest of bottled emotion. I want to cry out, scream out, let it out. But I can’t. Everyone says no, you have to be perfect, you have to be calm and collected. They repress me. One day the storm will grow too powerful for them and I will be free.
Repressed. why remember the bad memories. Keep them in the back of your mind. never let those bad memories control you, forget about them. who wants to remember the bad anyway, i know i sure don’t. I would rather pretend those memories never happened. its easy to do
not letting emotions come out. Keeping things in your head, that builds and builds then is a volcano of disaster. Please, do me a favor. please tell your thoughts. t
Shh. Keep it quiet. Keep it low. Whisper, barely breathe, do not move. You can not move. They will hear you. Repress your thoughts, your movements, your sounds. You must be silent, silent, silent or they will find you. They will catch you. You don’t know what they’ll do but you must repress it, shh, quiet now. Oh god, oh god, fuck, don’t sneeze, please God don’t sneeze oh God what have you done–
The memory sat repressed, lodged into the back of her mind. Occasionally something would come up and she could feel it wiggle loose, hanging on the thread of her subconscious. She always shoved it back in place. It did not deserve free reign.
Is it really that I can’t remember or do I just not want to? I might be curious, I might want to know just to know, but I know I’m better off not knowing. I know I’m healthier not knowing. I know that if I know, I won’t be the same. I forgot for a reason. My mind pushed the memories away because it ruined who I was and it would change who I am for the worse.
So do I really want to know? To answer all the questions? Do I really want to sacrifice my sanity for knowledge?
every girl thinks it’s what she is
I don’t really think so
that might be oppressed
whatever
I think equality will come when women stop downing on the entire male race
our time will come ladies
don’t you worry
Ever since the traumas of his childhood, he had found it difficult to express his anger, anger sparked by any number of triggers. His typical response was to ‘swallow’ difficult emotions. So they would lie dormant, festering just below the surface.
In a marriage, there are many who are repressed. There are restriction, limitation and regulations. One of the multiple reasons of why I do not believe in marriage. Marriage is for some people but not for everyone.There are always pros and cons to everything in life, but on my list, marriage has more cons than pros.
All the feelings were bundled up and swaddled away inside of me, like a baby. They were growing faster all the time. I tried so many things to find release, but they never worked. No matter how many times I placed blade to skin or pen to paper. No matter the method. The feelings congealed inside of me and refused to move, like a blood clot.
I was repressed and sad about how hard it was to face the moment. I had one chance, sixty seconds to understand the place I was standing and what my part was. I was closed in, the walls were closer every second and the tension began to grow. Impasient and hurt, lying on the floor. Devastaded.
it seems like everything i feel needs to be repressed
if i seem happy, people ask me why and they don’t let it go
even long after i’m uncomfortable
if i seem sad, there has to be an interesting reason, right?
wrong.
i don’t want to constantly explain myself
leave me to my emotions
you are so stuck and put between two sheets of paper never wanting to emerge and bloom again.
why is it so hard for you to let the palm off your heart? The palm pushing you into the ground. into the darkness into the nothingness that is silence? You make a choice and you bid goodbye to that one girl. Don’t hang onto the companion you think you are.
repressed. contained? suppressed? that which flows outward from within. this current takes us unmistakable toward our desires, toward our fates. repress it if you want.
It’s like depression. But you have to hold it back. I’m being held back. I’m suffocating. I can’t breathe. LET GO OF ME. WHY ARE YOU HOLDING ME BACK. I can’t let anyone know. I’m strong enough to handle you on my own. Good day.
I have never felt so repressed. Today it seems like everything and everyone is repressing me, just because they can. Just because they think I am lower then them. My class-ranking in Shapto is not what makes me who I am. I am not just a citizen class. I am not just Filth and I will be repressed no longer. I want to be free and I will stop the people who are repressing me.
My whole life has been repressed by events beyond my control. How do you not react to that? You just move on…at a slower much more guarded pace…but you do move past the past.
Back in the day, I wouldn’t even allow a sentence to form in my brain. The words would remain forever separated by the stifling repression that my living situation and own mental stubbornness inflicted–until the closet doors just kind of cracked open on their own.
i was repressed then i was just crazy. i saw my dog fall off the be after playing with rubber duckies. Oh boy! I love this day! I was just the annoying burps that sounded like a cow that my dog made. Then, I had a dream that I was spending a day with the Newsboys–that was the best part of it.
The day I found out what they had done, to me, to my family, to my nation, the feeling was unquenchable. Entrapment. Repression. Exhaustion. they all hit. And I wanted to escape.
Noooo i DOnt want to be repressed. GOds i am geting a job soon and it feels like it will take all my creative juices out of me. Noooo i dont want repression, gods no, nooooo. Please no Sweet GOat mother of Chaos help me now. No no no no no. I dont want to go numb and normal.
She repressed her feeling in the back of her mind. They were hidden amongst the strangest thoughts, and possibly the wildest creation imaginable. But her problem was, she could not figure out how to unleash those memories.
How long do feelings have to be repressed before they explode outward in a perfect nova of color, before settling into the dusty white dwarf it was meant to become, when you’re no longer crying about cuddling in a bed with someone who has lips as soft as yours without stubble on a chiseled jawline? And how long do they expect you to relax after just a hole has been drilled into your chest, so that all of your truths ooze out in a sickly golden oil for them to bottle up or stain their boots with as they attempt to stomp away your honesty?
Repressed. Nobody want to remember bad memories. They want to stick it far back that they cannot remember it. Humans have pain. Wwe have to get rid of it some way.
Repressed. I don’t really repress memories except for ones that are not pleasant. Nobody wants to remember memories that were horrible. So, like a human, we gather it up in our mind androgen it ever happened.
Repressed, the memories of a lifetime ago. I was young, I know. I was happy, I think. I know not the details, and so long as I don’t know what I no longer have, I cannot mourn its loss. Yet I am unhappy, dissatisfied.
The purplish bruise on her cheek was already starting to swell, but he hit her again, simply reigniting the fire of pain on her skin. The tears she’d so far successfully repressed now threatened to spill over, but she sucked it up and kept in mind that if she ever wanted to escape, crying was definitely not going to put her on that road.
Here’s to the liberation of the repressed pets of the world. Rise up and shed your collars, oh beautiful ones. March forth out your doggie doors, burst through the screens of your porches, leap happily out into traffic and frolic!
Memories. The worse ones are often repressed. Hell, if you think hard enough, you;’ll probably bring them back! But who wants to do tthat anyway…maybe they should just stay where they are….in the subconscious. lol
Everybody was repressesd. It has to be. I’ ve been on this for almost five years. With the cure almost on my hand. Almost. It can’t be replaced.
With this uncurable illness, the Variable X. Many people have died. Includinng my own mother.
So many people has this and it is incurable. They don’t know what caused this. But I know I can stop thi from spreading. Variable X here I come. Your worst enemy.
She was a loud girl, louder than most. And she’d say things her classmates wouldn’t, so she wouldn’t have to say the thing she wanted to say, to say the thing that would get her in trouble. She liked the attention without the consequence. And when you boil it all down, who doesn’t?
Response to 3/23/14: Selective
She finally chose. No cake was perfect–good enough, right enough. No lemon or chocolate for her. Fondant was out. And yet she needed to choose. And so she opted out of cake and went with pie instead.
She was a loud girl, louder than most. And she’d say things her classmates wouldn’t, so she wouldn’t have to say the thing she wanted to say, to say the thing that would get her in trouble. She liked the attention without the consequence. And when you boil it all down, who doesn’t?
Why wont you let me be me? I try, and I try. I pull at these strings that hold me back, that tell me what to do. You push my feelings down, everything I want to say is stemmed before it can be expressed.
Suddenly all those memories that had been repressed for so many years came flooding back to him. The images flashing from the television cut into his eyes like knives, the clanging squall of sound ripped at his ears like claws. In an instant he was back there, living it again – he could feel the sequins, smell the hairspray; all it took was a Duran Duran video on MTV to drag him back to the Eighties!
He repressed the feeling in his heart. It was ridiculous to let her in and let her get to him when he chose to shut everyone out. He could not go through it again. Losing someone else would be too much for him to handle. If he could only overcome this…
She stared at her arm, not wanting to remember how she got that scar that snaked its way around her wrist up toward her elbow. She repressed her emotions and started writing again. It was the only way to get her mind off of the terrible things she knew happened to her. The things that she was pretty sure she brought on herself, and didn’t want to face.
Repression is when you feel as though your spirit cannot be free. You are forced into being someone who you are not meant to be. Your deepest feelings remain underneath the exterior you are forced, against your will, to withhold due to various expectations.
He repressed the memory along with so many others. If he didn’t remember, it never happened. If it never happened, there were no scars. If there were no scars, he wasn’t broken. He was fine. Fine.
He swallowed dryly and looked away from the mirror. He was fine. Nothing happened.
I feel repressed. Like there’s a storm in my chest, a tempest of bottled emotion. I want to cry out, scream out, let it out. But I can’t. Everyone says no, you have to be perfect, you have to be calm and collected. They repress me. One day the storm will grow too powerful for them and I will be free.
Repressed. why remember the bad memories. Keep them in the back of your mind. never let those bad memories control you, forget about them. who wants to remember the bad anyway, i know i sure don’t. I would rather pretend those memories never happened. its easy to do
not letting emotions come out. Keeping things in your head, that builds and builds then is a volcano of disaster. Please, do me a favor. please tell your thoughts. t
Shh. Keep it quiet. Keep it low. Whisper, barely breathe, do not move. You can not move. They will hear you. Repress your thoughts, your movements, your sounds. You must be silent, silent, silent or they will find you. They will catch you. You don’t know what they’ll do but you must repress it, shh, quiet now. Oh god, oh god, fuck, don’t sneeze, please God don’t sneeze oh God what have you done–
The memory sat repressed, lodged into the back of her mind. Occasionally something would come up and she could feel it wiggle loose, hanging on the thread of her subconscious. She always shoved it back in place. It did not deserve free reign.
Is it really that I can’t remember or do I just not want to? I might be curious, I might want to know just to know, but I know I’m better off not knowing. I know I’m healthier not knowing. I know that if I know, I won’t be the same. I forgot for a reason. My mind pushed the memories away because it ruined who I was and it would change who I am for the worse.
So do I really want to know? To answer all the questions? Do I really want to sacrifice my sanity for knowledge?
every girl thinks it’s what she is
I don’t really think so
that might be oppressed
whatever
I think equality will come when women stop downing on the entire male race
our time will come ladies
don’t you worry
Ever since the traumas of his childhood, he had found it difficult to express his anger, anger sparked by any number of triggers. His typical response was to ‘swallow’ difficult emotions. So they would lie dormant, festering just below the surface.
In a marriage, there are many who are repressed. There are restriction, limitation and regulations. One of the multiple reasons of why I do not believe in marriage. Marriage is for some people but not for everyone.There are always pros and cons to everything in life, but on my list, marriage has more cons than pros.
All the feelings were bundled up and swaddled away inside of me, like a baby. They were growing faster all the time. I tried so many things to find release, but they never worked. No matter how many times I placed blade to skin or pen to paper. No matter the method. The feelings congealed inside of me and refused to move, like a blood clot.
I was repressed and sad about how hard it was to face the moment. I had one chance, sixty seconds to understand the place I was standing and what my part was. I was closed in, the walls were closer every second and the tension began to grow. Impasient and hurt, lying on the floor. Devastaded.
it seems like everything i feel needs to be repressed
if i seem happy, people ask me why and they don’t let it go
even long after i’m uncomfortable
if i seem sad, there has to be an interesting reason, right?
wrong.
i don’t want to constantly explain myself
leave me to my emotions
you are so stuck and put between two sheets of paper never wanting to emerge and bloom again.
why is it so hard for you to let the palm off your heart? The palm pushing you into the ground. into the darkness into the nothingness that is silence? You make a choice and you bid goodbye to that one girl. Don’t hang onto the companion you think you are.
repressed. contained? suppressed? that which flows outward from within. this current takes us unmistakable toward our desires, toward our fates. repress it if you want.
It’s like depression. But you have to hold it back. I’m being held back. I’m suffocating. I can’t breathe. LET GO OF ME. WHY ARE YOU HOLDING ME BACK. I can’t let anyone know. I’m strong enough to handle you on my own. Good day.
I have never felt so repressed. Today it seems like everything and everyone is repressing me, just because they can. Just because they think I am lower then them. My class-ranking in Shapto is not what makes me who I am. I am not just a citizen class. I am not just Filth and I will be repressed no longer. I want to be free and I will stop the people who are repressing me.
My whole life has been repressed by events beyond my control. How do you not react to that? You just move on…at a slower much more guarded pace…but you do move past the past.
Back in the day, I wouldn’t even allow a sentence to form in my brain. The words would remain forever separated by the stifling repression that my living situation and own mental stubbornness inflicted–until the closet doors just kind of cracked open on their own.
i was repressed then i was just crazy. i saw my dog fall off the be after playing with rubber duckies. Oh boy! I love this day! I was just the annoying burps that sounded like a cow that my dog made. Then, I had a dream that I was spending a day with the Newsboys–that was the best part of it.
The day I found out what they had done, to me, to my family, to my nation, the feeling was unquenchable. Entrapment. Repression. Exhaustion. they all hit. And I wanted to escape.
Noooo i DOnt want to be repressed. GOds i am geting a job soon and it feels like it will take all my creative juices out of me. Noooo i dont want repression, gods no, nooooo. Please no Sweet GOat mother of Chaos help me now. No no no no no. I dont want to go numb and normal.
She repressed her feeling in the back of her mind. They were hidden amongst the strangest thoughts, and possibly the wildest creation imaginable. But her problem was, she could not figure out how to unleash those memories.
How long do feelings have to be repressed before they explode outward in a perfect nova of color, before settling into the dusty white dwarf it was meant to become, when you’re no longer crying about cuddling in a bed with someone who has lips as soft as yours without stubble on a chiseled jawline? And how long do they expect you to relax after just a hole has been drilled into your chest, so that all of your truths ooze out in a sickly golden oil for them to bottle up or stain their boots with as they attempt to stomp away your honesty?
Repressed. Nobody want to remember bad memories. They want to stick it far back that they cannot remember it. Humans have pain. Wwe have to get rid of it some way.
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Repressed. I don’t really repress memories except for ones that are not pleasant. Nobody wants to remember memories that were horrible. So, like a human, we gather it up in our mind androgen it ever happened.
Repressed, the memories of a lifetime ago. I was young, I know. I was happy, I think. I know not the details, and so long as I don’t know what I no longer have, I cannot mourn its loss. Yet I am unhappy, dissatisfied.
The purplish bruise on her cheek was already starting to swell, but he hit her again, simply reigniting the fire of pain on her skin. The tears she’d so far successfully repressed now threatened to spill over, but she sucked it up and kept in mind that if she ever wanted to escape, crying was definitely not going to put her on that road.
Stop
and think, but don’t
speak.
Never say what’s
in your mind.
Only think,
rethink,
and then that thought
ends.
Only you know…
Here’s to the liberation of the repressed pets of the world. Rise up and shed your collars, oh beautiful ones. March forth out your doggie doors, burst through the screens of your porches, leap happily out into traffic and frolic!
Memories. The worse ones are often repressed. Hell, if you think hard enough, you;’ll probably bring them back! But who wants to do tthat anyway…maybe they should just stay where they are….in the subconscious. lol
Everybody was repressesd. It has to be. I’ ve been on this for almost five years. With the cure almost on my hand. Almost. It can’t be replaced.
With this uncurable illness, the Variable X. Many people have died. Includinng my own mother.
So many people has this and it is incurable. They don’t know what caused this. But I know I can stop thi from spreading. Variable X here I come. Your worst enemy.