repression is something you feel when the things inside you get pushed down, and powers being sucked away by force. sort of like being in a void; one feels nothingness, powerless, akin to a shout devoid of voice. this is a terrible place to be in, but a necessary one – for strength comes from repression, and something is birthed from nothingness.
I have repressed my emotions to the point I don’t even know what to feel. there’s something inside of me telling me to do more and be more but how can you be more, when you don’t know how to be? Some call it sad but I just call it my life. I’ve learned to live without emotion.
“Sometimes bottling things inside, repressing things, is the only option a man has. Now, whether or not that’s a good thing is a whole ‘nother matter.”
I’ve repressed a lot of emotions since I was about twenty or so. I’m not sure where I learned this habit from. I didn’t used to be like that at all — feelings used to come naturally to me. Sometimes in torrents. Then sometime after our last breakup I forced myself to stuff it all down.
They say justice is blind until you undress her eyes. Although what if she’s been peeking out from under her blindfold this whole time? Or maybe it was love that had been blind? Or was it death that made us all equal in the end? I don’t know. All these personifications are hard to keep track of sometimes. Funny how we stuff these intertwined notions into compartmentalized little boxes. It makes me think of Pandora and how she trapped hope in a box. I’ve always wondered why she should keep it under lock and key when all the other perilous things escaped. What is a box of hope worth anyway, an election? Actually, the box is metaphorical, fictional, and antiquated when you think about what can fit on a flash drive, but there it is trapped inside, this hope that someone has an answer to all the ills that plague us.
When I hear that word, I think of someone refusing a button. It also makes me think of depressed. But when I look up the word I had no idea that’s what it meant; restrained. Like a horse is what I think.
I just can’t think of anything else to do other than tell her. She completes me and I am not supposed to repress my feelings right? If this is going to work out I need to tell her how I feel, and there is no way anyone can stop me.
A man slices a zombies in two when repressed memories start coming back to him. One of these flesh eaters ate his wife and children just a couple years ago.
It tickled her skin and made her itch. She scratched all over but found no relief. As he approached, she could feel her cheeks burning, and her stomach began doing flips. Those eyes. Those dead blue eyes were staring right through her just like they did when she was little.
repressed
at least I’m not repressed
childhood, i remember w
atching that movie over and over again
never really understanding
we are all repressed
hiding things
squished under htis big huge rock
“society” some call it
but it really isnt that simple
we are all repressors and we are all repressed,
holding ourselves back and scratching ourselves to pieces trying to break free
repressed
at leasat I’m not– wait…
The feelings of it all had bubbled up from the inside. It made sense that after all this time it would be the natural inclination. After all the shadows cast by the blinds with electric light shining through mirrored the repressed darkness inside. And the thing was, she didn’t mind it. In fact, it was the reason she stayed.
She repressed the urge to say what was in her heart for so long. It wasn’t time, nor was she sure it would ever be the right time until he was ready to be honest, truly honest
This feelings that I have repressed for way too long have started to leak out quietly and steadily.It was not a great big torrent like a tornado taking over the landscape but as surely as water wears away rock these feeling were making their presence felt. The great romance that had started more than thirty years earlier was now in full swing.
Mental illness is of a nature that will, not only be difficult to cure or repressed in most patients although considerable money and research have been done to contain this chronic illness.
sad – Egypt – tough – I’m feeling like it’s the word for Egypt nowadays. This too shall pass. Don’t feel it too often on the personal level. I can find a way out.
I stared out the window of the building from the eighth floor. I touched the cool glass and tried to look at the street below. I wondered if I would die before I hit the ground below. Perhaps not. But maybe if I gave up on life so completely, I could just drop dead. Maybe one night I could go to sleep and never wake up. I think that would be best. Maybe I would be stuck in a dream, or a nightmare. Even a nightmare would be exciting. I hear a noise and turn to see if the person I was waiting for was ready to leave. But there is no one to wait for. There is no one around and no cameras because it is indeed a bathroom. There is a small decorative stool under the window and I pick it up. I hit it against the window as hard as I could but only a deep thud and the sound of wood cracking can be heard. The window was thick, and there was only superficial scratches.
Guess I live again today, I thought as I put the cracked stool back down. I would hold this down until the next time I saw a street below. Maybe I would die before I hit the ground.
Sitting in this chair everyday, for 6 hours, five days a week shouldn´t fell so bad. But, it does. I fell repressed and away of all the things I wish I was doing and I wish I could acomplish.
You hurt my heart when you say nothing. It holds back my soul from letting it feel what it ultimately does. It tangles me in knots. It has no pretty bows. It just hurts my heart when you say nothing.
“Its been too long, Delena, the people repressed too long. They don’t know how to think for themselves.”
“Then they will learn,” she said firmly. “They deserve the chance, at least. You owe them that.”
Don’t you realize that as a society they were repressed? their news outlets were owned by one man, the press by the same man and very little news from The Outside World made its way to them. It was no wonder they allowed the behavior to continue.
There’s far too much repressed emotion bottled up within him. He wears his mask so well that sometimes even I, his oldest friend, cannot tell what he’s actually feeling.
Here we go again she thought. Another round of bait the fruit bat.
“Do you feel you have had to hide your true self?” asked the psychologist in an offensively jaunty tone. Phylicia Robbins reminded Anika of a cheesy Disney Channel cheerleader. She was all bouncy and had way too many teeth. ‘Would you consider yourself to be a repressed homo-sex-u-al?”
Anika was not a fan of psychiatric labels, or any other type of labels for that matter. People had been trying to find a suitable box for her since she six. She rolled her eyes. “Of for f#*!# sake.”
“Well?” insisted Britney Spears.
“A repressed homo-sex-u-al?” Anika scoffed. “Ah no” she paused, “if I had to put my finger on it, I’d say I was more of a depressed lesbian than a repressed homosexual.”
Every thought has been repressed
in this kind of night
– silence pounds in our ears;
nothing should be told
when dark fells down
and stars begin to shine bright.
We know each other by heart
even though we can not
talk and whispers and murmuring.
it wasn’t good.
he didn’t do as he was told.
he wasn’t a man like they wanted.
up the battle, climb that hill.
can’t escape these expectations,
can you?
battered, repressed.
done with this shit.
There’s something about the golden hour. When the light bends it can take you from depressed and repressed into a period where you’ve convalesced. I looked at my novel today. And felt like I could finish it. After it’d been forgotten for so long. Well, that’s not true. It’s always floating somewhere in the ether of my mind. But for whatever reason, I thought tonight it could be a different story, not like the other attempts. The same challenges remained, but they were no longer the impasses I remembered. They could be overcome easily. I felt like this evolving story offered me something now that it hadn’t before, some missing part of an equation. That piece reminds me of a tune about a little thing called “Confidence.”
I feel as though I am constantly repressing my feelings. Forcing them down so I don’t have to deal with them, or even express them in the ways I want too. I even repress happinest… but he makes me feel it even when I don’t want too. Even when I have pushed it down so far that I question whether I am truly happy or if I am just putting on a show in the “appropriate” way to society, he makes me feel true, unfiltered happiness.
Cold nights. Bright lights. Cracking, sparking, melting.A sudden clap. A fuzzy face, blue eyes. Repressed memories, only images left. This was all she could remember.
I feel it when it’s dark and cold, theres nothing I can do about it. It stays with me when I roam, the day becomes night and the word lingers in me, It eats at me and I can’t stop feeling it…repressed.
I felt down. It was understandable. Would be to others. The doctor and the way the old lady in the waiting room with the tub sticking out her neck had just sort of stared out at the television while I walked out. It was depressing. I felt stuck. Repressed. There were no options. It’d be my choice but in the end there’d really be no choice, no control just whatever was going to happen and I didn’t feel too good about it.
Anguish to the anchor, anger, hang her, derrange her, her, her, what we fuhrer the most- fear her, fear of her, the feminine, the fire, how it rose wild orange at my scream
To me this word means to keep pressing on if there is a goal to be meant. Repress do it over and over until progress is made.
She tried to repressed the memories of what happened so long. His death traumtized her so badly.
repression is something you feel when the things inside you get pushed down, and powers being sucked away by force. sort of like being in a void; one feels nothingness, powerless, akin to a shout devoid of voice. this is a terrible place to be in, but a necessary one – for strength comes from repression, and something is birthed from nothingness.
I have repressed my emotions to the point I don’t even know what to feel. there’s something inside of me telling me to do more and be more but how can you be more, when you don’t know how to be? Some call it sad but I just call it my life. I’ve learned to live without emotion.
“Sometimes bottling things inside, repressing things, is the only option a man has. Now, whether or not that’s a good thing is a whole ‘nother matter.”
I’ve repressed a lot of emotions since I was about twenty or so. I’m not sure where I learned this habit from. I didn’t used to be like that at all — feelings used to come naturally to me. Sometimes in torrents. Then sometime after our last breakup I forced myself to stuff it all down.
They say justice is blind until you undress her eyes. Although what if she’s been peeking out from under her blindfold this whole time? Or maybe it was love that had been blind? Or was it death that made us all equal in the end? I don’t know. All these personifications are hard to keep track of sometimes. Funny how we stuff these intertwined notions into compartmentalized little boxes. It makes me think of Pandora and how she trapped hope in a box. I’ve always wondered why she should keep it under lock and key when all the other perilous things escaped. What is a box of hope worth anyway, an election? Actually, the box is metaphorical, fictional, and antiquated when you think about what can fit on a flash drive, but there it is trapped inside, this hope that someone has an answer to all the ills that plague us.
sometimes you press apples but they refuse to become juicy, they must be repressed.
dressed in
repressed
dignity
form follows function
divine
blessed with
expressed
chivalry
ideals from a simpler
time
When I hear that word, I think of someone refusing a button. It also makes me think of depressed. But when I look up the word I had no idea that’s what it meant; restrained. Like a horse is what I think.
I just can’t think of anything else to do other than tell her. She completes me and I am not supposed to repress my feelings right? If this is going to work out I need to tell her how I feel, and there is no way anyone can stop me.
A man slices a zombies in two when repressed memories start coming back to him. One of these flesh eaters ate his wife and children just a couple years ago.
It tickled her skin and made her itch. She scratched all over but found no relief. As he approached, she could feel her cheeks burning, and her stomach began doing flips. Those eyes. Those dead blue eyes were staring right through her just like they did when she was little.
repressed
at least I’m not repressed
childhood, i remember w
atching that movie over and over again
never really understanding
we are all repressed
hiding things
squished under htis big huge rock
“society” some call it
but it really isnt that simple
we are all repressors and we are all repressed,
holding ourselves back and scratching ourselves to pieces trying to break free
repressed
at leasat I’m not– wait…
The feelings of it all had bubbled up from the inside. It made sense that after all this time it would be the natural inclination. After all the shadows cast by the blinds with electric light shining through mirrored the repressed darkness inside. And the thing was, she didn’t mind it. In fact, it was the reason she stayed.
She repressed the urge to say what was in her heart for so long. It wasn’t time, nor was she sure it would ever be the right time until he was ready to be honest, truly honest
This feelings that I have repressed for way too long have started to leak out quietly and steadily.It was not a great big torrent like a tornado taking over the landscape but as surely as water wears away rock these feeling were making their presence felt. The great romance that had started more than thirty years earlier was now in full swing.
Mental illness is of a nature that will, not only be difficult to cure or repressed in most patients although considerable money and research have been done to contain this chronic illness.
She repressed her anxiety at the thought of being classed as insecure and not being able to cope. She felt lost.
there is no imperical research that can conclude that cycological repression exists
sad – Egypt – tough – I’m feeling like it’s the word for Egypt nowadays. This too shall pass. Don’t feel it too often on the personal level. I can find a way out.
I stared out the window of the building from the eighth floor. I touched the cool glass and tried to look at the street below. I wondered if I would die before I hit the ground below. Perhaps not. But maybe if I gave up on life so completely, I could just drop dead. Maybe one night I could go to sleep and never wake up. I think that would be best. Maybe I would be stuck in a dream, or a nightmare. Even a nightmare would be exciting. I hear a noise and turn to see if the person I was waiting for was ready to leave. But there is no one to wait for. There is no one around and no cameras because it is indeed a bathroom. There is a small decorative stool under the window and I pick it up. I hit it against the window as hard as I could but only a deep thud and the sound of wood cracking can be heard. The window was thick, and there was only superficial scratches.
Guess I live again today, I thought as I put the cracked stool back down. I would hold this down until the next time I saw a street below. Maybe I would die before I hit the ground.
Sitting in this chair everyday, for 6 hours, five days a week shouldn´t fell so bad. But, it does. I fell repressed and away of all the things I wish I was doing and I wish I could acomplish.
You hurt my heart when you say nothing. It holds back my soul from letting it feel what it ultimately does. It tangles me in knots. It has no pretty bows. It just hurts my heart when you say nothing.
“Its been too long, Delena, the people repressed too long. They don’t know how to think for themselves.”
“Then they will learn,” she said firmly. “They deserve the chance, at least. You owe them that.”
Don’t you realize that as a society they were repressed? their news outlets were owned by one man, the press by the same man and very little news from The Outside World made its way to them. It was no wonder they allowed the behavior to continue.
There’s far too much repressed emotion bottled up within him. He wears his mask so well that sometimes even I, his oldest friend, cannot tell what he’s actually feeling.
Here we go again she thought. Another round of bait the fruit bat.
“Do you feel you have had to hide your true self?” asked the psychologist in an offensively jaunty tone. Phylicia Robbins reminded Anika of a cheesy Disney Channel cheerleader. She was all bouncy and had way too many teeth. ‘Would you consider yourself to be a repressed homo-sex-u-al?”
Anika was not a fan of psychiatric labels, or any other type of labels for that matter. People had been trying to find a suitable box for her since she six. She rolled her eyes. “Of for f#*!# sake.”
“Well?” insisted Britney Spears.
“A repressed homo-sex-u-al?” Anika scoffed. “Ah no” she paused, “if I had to put my finger on it, I’d say I was more of a depressed lesbian than a repressed homosexual.”
Every thought has been repressed
in this kind of night
– silence pounds in our ears;
nothing should be told
when dark fells down
and stars begin to shine bright.
We know each other by heart
even though we can not
talk and whispers and murmuring.
it wasn’t good.
he didn’t do as he was told.
he wasn’t a man like they wanted.
up the battle, climb that hill.
can’t escape these expectations,
can you?
battered, repressed.
done with this shit.
My feelings are shoved down. Deep, deep down into the pit that is my heart. It is empty and full all at once. Thoughts, memories, feelings. Repressed.
you spat words at me
you swung fists at me
you tore my insides out
and left me beaten
so i told you i loved you
the sad part is i meant it
There’s something about the golden hour. When the light bends it can take you from depressed and repressed into a period where you’ve convalesced. I looked at my novel today. And felt like I could finish it. After it’d been forgotten for so long. Well, that’s not true. It’s always floating somewhere in the ether of my mind. But for whatever reason, I thought tonight it could be a different story, not like the other attempts. The same challenges remained, but they were no longer the impasses I remembered. They could be overcome easily. I felt like this evolving story offered me something now that it hadn’t before, some missing part of an equation. That piece reminds me of a tune about a little thing called “Confidence.”
I feel as though I am constantly repressing my feelings. Forcing them down so I don’t have to deal with them, or even express them in the ways I want too. I even repress happinest… but he makes me feel it even when I don’t want too. Even when I have pushed it down so far that I question whether I am truly happy or if I am just putting on a show in the “appropriate” way to society, he makes me feel true, unfiltered happiness.
Cold nights. Bright lights. Cracking, sparking, melting.A sudden clap. A fuzzy face, blue eyes. Repressed memories, only images left. This was all she could remember.
I feel it when it’s dark and cold, theres nothing I can do about it. It stays with me when I roam, the day becomes night and the word lingers in me, It eats at me and I can’t stop feeling it…repressed.
hidden behind a wooden lid,
the guts swallow passing light
oblivion turned colourful
in the break of eve
suppressed,
repressed, next
depressed.
depths,
pressures,
being pressed
tests?
I felt down. It was understandable. Would be to others. The doctor and the way the old lady in the waiting room with the tub sticking out her neck had just sort of stared out at the television while I walked out. It was depressing. I felt stuck. Repressed. There were no options. It’d be my choice but in the end there’d really be no choice, no control just whatever was going to happen and I didn’t feel too good about it.
Anguish to the anchor, anger, hang her, derrange her, her, her, what we fuhrer the most- fear her, fear of her, the feminine, the fire, how it rose wild orange at my scream