When i think of cry i think of it as a natural human emotion, not a sign of weakness.
Sometimes as humans, we just have to let our emotions take their share.
We just have to cry. Whether you’re heartbroken,miserable,alienated, or just depressed. Don’t let it build up inside of you. You’re not weak when you cry.
I cry. Harder than I ever had before. I felt empty, broken, alone. There were all of these feelings I had but at the same time, I felt completely and utterly numb. I hate crying.
Everyone cries because it is apart of feeling, some people may cry for someone dying, or someone getting sick. Other people may cry because they’re really mad. Other times if you’re really happy you may cry out of Joy.
I cry. Evryone cries sometimes. It doesn’t mean I’m not a man, it just means that I feel. My people, they cried. They cried for loss; they cried for joy, they cried to to feel. Let me stand, let me sing, let me Cry. I feel. I love. I cry. And they fly to heaven on the wings of tear.
This morning all i could do is CRY. Cry because not only did i think id never feel “that way again” but i never thought it would be YOU who made me feel that way. I cry for release of tension and bottled up anger that will devastate me more. Rather than pay you back or make you go through what i did…. i CRY
Sometimes I want to cry and sometimes I do. Cry out all the pain and hurt that I’ve endured and am enduring. In moments of solidarity, crying releases whatever I’m holding inside. Release it in the cry.
The tears rolled down her cheeks, her sobs echoing through the dim hall. She was all alone. Her best friend was dead. She heard a voice behind her, “Hey.” It sounded like… but no, his body was right her in front of her, bruised, bloody… dead.
Crying is something that i try not to do. But as with everything sometimes it slips out. I usually cry when i am angry. and want to chock somebody out.
She held back the tears as long as she could. “Well, I suppose that would depend on what you were going to say about it.” He walked through the crowd closer to the stage. God, he looked the same. She put the microphone back the stand so she had both hands free. She crossed her arms and waited. He just stared.
All the people I know are characters. Take this one lead singer, tonight he’s throwing out his most full throated cries during the songs. I feel it. But the band seems subdued. I’ve seen them before, still a line up change has reconfigured their sound. It’s an interesting evolution. Yet I watch them retreat into themselves and at times cast looks to each other to see what each is doing. Some seem to be going through the motions. The guitarist oscillates from being into it to looking bored. The drummer hidden in back is furtive. The bassist and the keyboardist seem to be a mix of these and other wavelengths, no matter the pace or theme of the song, their faces remain impassive. Only one seems to be diving deeper to reach their notes. Ultimately it’s the singer who reminds me what an act of “ritualism” means. How the purgative powers of the performance heighten our collective awareness. He pours what he pours into us all and descends from the stage into the crowd, half shaman, half poor beast, so that he may later retrieve this thing he’s let loose. Perhaps he is filled by the time ascends the stage again, perhaps he comes away even more depleted. The vibe varies from crowd to crowd. Some nights not even the adulation can stem the fear of failure or committing endless self-sabotage. But that evening? The tensions had eased much in the way the last notes of a song diffuse into a cheerful crowd. And it was nice to see the singer alight with afterglow.
Choking sobs wracked his body; the grief was too much to bear.
Later, after the guests had gone, he was able to really let go. He collapsed into a puddle on the floor, and the tears collected from his groaning grief did indeed pool at a low point in the floor.
I felt like crying last night. I had a flight with him again and I could see the frustration and in his eyes. He looked at me like he was tired. I’m tired too.
I stood at the top of the stairs staring blankly down at the dismembered body of my former lover. My cheeks damped as I took in the ungodly sight and struggled to conceive what it meant.
I am going to cry because of what we have to go to. The place is sad, that is why I will cry. I do not want people to see me cry so I will wait to do it at home, but other people will cry there.
Do I cry a lot? Apparently, people say that us INFP are “crybabies”. Well, I’m turbulent. But whenever I’m not being turbulent, I have moments of ’emotional-ness’, like I get “feels” whenever something adorable happens :)))))
I don’t cry as much as I used to. There are other ways I get upset and manifest my emotions. That is good. However, when I do cry, it actually hurts my stomach and chest.
The cry of an infant (be it human or animal) the one noise guaranteed to cut through any amount of noise. We are all programed to respond in some way and recognize the cry as a notification of need whether it be food, cleanliness or closeness. Some of us are just really good at ignoring the sound.
Gently placed hand on my shoulder
with the warmth and support that i need
to build up toward the sky where there
is a limit that i need to push past.
believing in myself can be hard
i’m not one to stand my ground most of the time
i just carry myself through life
and hope that my cry will be heard if even uttered
Reaching out for invisible ties that bind us together
but they are just figments of imagination
the only thing we are bound by is gravity
and even then we can push past that into space
People cry because of various emotions: anger, sadness, guilt, regret, or even happiness; sometimes they cry because they are so happy. I often see such people who, in most cases, had been trough hard times and overcame something, achieved something they had longed to gain for years. They grew as individuals.
Crying is not a bad thing at all; it can help purge you of undesirable feelings. If you want to cry, then cry. But you can’t spend the whole life crying and crying. You just need to move forward to live a life that won’t waste your tears.
Crying is not a weakness. It just means that you are facing the reality rather than avoiding it.
It echoed through the trees, low and visceral and primal, a bellow from that deep and wild part of a man’s body that only expresses itself through noise and certainly doesn’t understand speech. In the dirt, the baby squalled in response.
“Hey.” he said as he walked through the hotel doors. Raphael stayed silent. “Are you still mad?”Raphael stayed silent again. “Okay, thats a yes.” Simon tried to approach him, but Raphael backed away, and turned to leave. “No Raph please dont leave…” Raphael stopped in his tracks.
“You have no right to be here. You betrayed us.” there was a long pause between the two.
“I miss you…” Simon whispered as his eyes began to water. He thought about his life without Raphael and wanted to cry. Raphael was stone cold, but he missed Simon too. He had to be cold; he had to be tough; it was the only way he knew how to deal with anything anymore. Truth be told, thinking about a life without Simon made Raphael want to cry too. His eyes remained dry. “I can’t stop thinking about you, Raph. I want to come home. I miss my family. I regret what I did every day of my life, and I will for the rest of eternity. But being without you for that long hurts.” Simon finally let his emotions go as he started to cry softly. This nearly broke Raphael. He could not bare to see his loved ones hurt, but he thought he didnt care about Simon anymore – he betrayed him and his family after all, why would he care about anyone who didnt care about him back. He thought wrong. As Simon’s head was bowed, Raphael walked up to him and wiped his tears from his cheek. A very shocked Simon looked at someone he has known as dangerous and saw sadness – sadness he caused. He couldnt help himself: he threw his arms around Raphael and help him tight. Oh God how Simon missed him. Raphael didnt want to miss Simon, but he did anyways, and oh God how he missed him too. Raphael wrapped his arms around him, and they stayed stuck like glue for moments. Simon said, “Im sorry.” Raphael let go, and said, “Save your breath, fledgling. That doesnt mean i trust you.”
“I’ll fight for your trust again. And honestly if you never do I wouldnt blame you.”
All Raphael wanted was for Simon to show how much he actually meant to him – he didnt believe he would fight, he didnt believe Simon cared about him. He believed wrong.
Heat scorches through the depths of her chest. Something coils up in her throat.
Oh no.
It’s happening.
Before she can stop herself,
the burn reaches her eyes.
Theres a silent storm whirling.
It traces pain down her cheeks.
“Don’t make me cry,” whimpered Stephanie. “I hate crying. I don’t want to cry.”
“I’m not going to make you cry,” I said, my tone admittedly a bit bewildered. “Why would I do that?”
“Because everyone else makes me cry,” she said, and already, her eyes were beginning to shine. “My brother, my mommy, my daddy. They all make me cry. They all like making me cry.”
I cried and cried, cried with the rain beating down on me in torrents and droves. It tried to drive me into the ground, hitting me again and again and again. And I wished it could have. Nothing mattered any more.
My little sister was gone.
My friend fell and hurt himself and said he wanted to cry.
built up anxiety, pressure, sadness being released
an emotion people feel when they are sad or sometimes mad.
When i think of cry i think of it as a natural human emotion, not a sign of weakness.
Sometimes as humans, we just have to let our emotions take their share.
We just have to cry. Whether you’re heartbroken,miserable,alienated, or just depressed. Don’t let it build up inside of you. You’re not weak when you cry.
you cry when you are upset. Its when your hurt or you just want to cry. You just let it all out.
why cry when i have so much in my life.there is no reason to be sad when everything is alright.
I cry. Harder than I ever had before. I felt empty, broken, alone. There were all of these feelings I had but at the same time, I felt completely and utterly numb. I hate crying.
When you cry, you feel. When you cry, you feel better. When you feel better, you have a better day.
Everyone cries because it is apart of feeling, some people may cry for someone dying, or someone getting sick. Other people may cry because they’re really mad. Other times if you’re really happy you may cry out of Joy.
everyone cries sometimes. People cry if they are hurt, happy, or mad.
crying is something that everyone dose in some point of there life. crying is something people do when there emotional.
I cry. Evryone cries sometimes. It doesn’t mean I’m not a man, it just means that I feel. My people, they cried. They cried for loss; they cried for joy, they cried to to feel. Let me stand, let me sing, let me Cry. I feel. I love. I cry. And they fly to heaven on the wings of tear.
This morning all i could do is CRY. Cry because not only did i think id never feel “that way again” but i never thought it would be YOU who made me feel that way. I cry for release of tension and bottled up anger that will devastate me more. Rather than pay you back or make you go through what i did…. i CRY
Sometimes I want to cry and sometimes I do. Cry out all the pain and hurt that I’ve endured and am enduring. In moments of solidarity, crying releases whatever I’m holding inside. Release it in the cry.
The tears rolled down her cheeks, her sobs echoing through the dim hall. She was all alone. Her best friend was dead. She heard a voice behind her, “Hey.” It sounded like… but no, his body was right her in front of her, bruised, bloody… dead.
Crying is something that i try not to do. But as with everything sometimes it slips out. I usually cry when i am angry. and want to chock somebody out.
She held back the tears as long as she could. “Well, I suppose that would depend on what you were going to say about it.” He walked through the crowd closer to the stage. God, he looked the same. She put the microphone back the stand so she had both hands free. She crossed her arms and waited. He just stared.
I used to cry all the time then I realized that I was a 50 year old man and when I cry people think that I just lost my best friend in a car crash.
Those were crystalline
Falling from the sky
Empty and yet profound
Hear its roaring sound
All the people I know are characters. Take this one lead singer, tonight he’s throwing out his most full throated cries during the songs. I feel it. But the band seems subdued. I’ve seen them before, still a line up change has reconfigured their sound. It’s an interesting evolution. Yet I watch them retreat into themselves and at times cast looks to each other to see what each is doing. Some seem to be going through the motions. The guitarist oscillates from being into it to looking bored. The drummer hidden in back is furtive. The bassist and the keyboardist seem to be a mix of these and other wavelengths, no matter the pace or theme of the song, their faces remain impassive. Only one seems to be diving deeper to reach their notes. Ultimately it’s the singer who reminds me what an act of “ritualism” means. How the purgative powers of the performance heighten our collective awareness. He pours what he pours into us all and descends from the stage into the crowd, half shaman, half poor beast, so that he may later retrieve this thing he’s let loose. Perhaps he is filled by the time ascends the stage again, perhaps he comes away even more depleted. The vibe varies from crowd to crowd. Some nights not even the adulation can stem the fear of failure or committing endless self-sabotage. But that evening? The tensions had eased much in the way the last notes of a song diffuse into a cheerful crowd. And it was nice to see the singer alight with afterglow.
Choking sobs wracked his body; the grief was too much to bear.
Later, after the guests had gone, he was able to really let go. He collapsed into a puddle on the floor, and the tears collected from his groaning grief did indeed pool at a low point in the floor.
I felt like crying last night. I had a flight with him again and I could see the frustration and in his eyes. He looked at me like he was tired. I’m tired too.
she was last in the jungle her team mates left her. meanwhile her team mates hear her cry and run towards it
I stood at the top of the stairs staring blankly down at the dismembered body of my former lover. My cheeks damped as I took in the ungodly sight and struggled to conceive what it meant.
I am going to cry because of what we have to go to. The place is sad, that is why I will cry. I do not want people to see me cry so I will wait to do it at home, but other people will cry there.
Do I cry a lot? Apparently, people say that us INFP are “crybabies”. Well, I’m turbulent. But whenever I’m not being turbulent, I have moments of ’emotional-ness’, like I get “feels” whenever something adorable happens :)))))
Look at that whale over there it’s so sad it’s just crying :(((((((((((((((((((((XDXDXDXDXDXDXDXXDccdnvufvhvbfc bwjscbjhbcvv
fv
act of joy, sorrow, winning, breaking, melting hearts, loving, caring, sharing, and life
I don’t cry as much as I used to. There are other ways I get upset and manifest my emotions. That is good. However, when I do cry, it actually hurts my stomach and chest.
Cry Laugh or Die. Nobody in the vicinity seems to have been bothered by it. It was as if we are not human being anymore.
The cry of an infant (be it human or animal) the one noise guaranteed to cut through any amount of noise. We are all programed to respond in some way and recognize the cry as a notification of need whether it be food, cleanliness or closeness. Some of us are just really good at ignoring the sound.
Gently placed hand on my shoulder
with the warmth and support that i need
to build up toward the sky where there
is a limit that i need to push past.
believing in myself can be hard
i’m not one to stand my ground most of the time
i just carry myself through life
and hope that my cry will be heard if even uttered
Reaching out for invisible ties that bind us together
but they are just figments of imagination
the only thing we are bound by is gravity
and even then we can push past that into space
People cry because of various emotions: anger, sadness, guilt, regret, or even happiness; sometimes they cry because they are so happy. I often see such people who, in most cases, had been trough hard times and overcame something, achieved something they had longed to gain for years. They grew as individuals.
Crying is not a bad thing at all; it can help purge you of undesirable feelings. If you want to cry, then cry. But you can’t spend the whole life crying and crying. You just need to move forward to live a life that won’t waste your tears.
Crying is not a weakness. It just means that you are facing the reality rather than avoiding it.
It echoed through the trees, low and visceral and primal, a bellow from that deep and wild part of a man’s body that only expresses itself through noise and certainly doesn’t understand speech. In the dirt, the baby squalled in response.
“Hey.” he said as he walked through the hotel doors. Raphael stayed silent. “Are you still mad?”Raphael stayed silent again. “Okay, thats a yes.” Simon tried to approach him, but Raphael backed away, and turned to leave. “No Raph please dont leave…” Raphael stopped in his tracks.
“You have no right to be here. You betrayed us.” there was a long pause between the two.
“I miss you…” Simon whispered as his eyes began to water. He thought about his life without Raphael and wanted to cry. Raphael was stone cold, but he missed Simon too. He had to be cold; he had to be tough; it was the only way he knew how to deal with anything anymore. Truth be told, thinking about a life without Simon made Raphael want to cry too. His eyes remained dry. “I can’t stop thinking about you, Raph. I want to come home. I miss my family. I regret what I did every day of my life, and I will for the rest of eternity. But being without you for that long hurts.” Simon finally let his emotions go as he started to cry softly. This nearly broke Raphael. He could not bare to see his loved ones hurt, but he thought he didnt care about Simon anymore – he betrayed him and his family after all, why would he care about anyone who didnt care about him back. He thought wrong. As Simon’s head was bowed, Raphael walked up to him and wiped his tears from his cheek. A very shocked Simon looked at someone he has known as dangerous and saw sadness – sadness he caused. He couldnt help himself: he threw his arms around Raphael and help him tight. Oh God how Simon missed him. Raphael didnt want to miss Simon, but he did anyways, and oh God how he missed him too. Raphael wrapped his arms around him, and they stayed stuck like glue for moments. Simon said, “Im sorry.” Raphael let go, and said, “Save your breath, fledgling. That doesnt mean i trust you.”
“I’ll fight for your trust again. And honestly if you never do I wouldnt blame you.”
All Raphael wanted was for Simon to show how much he actually meant to him – he didnt believe he would fight, he didnt believe Simon cared about him. He believed wrong.
Sometimes I think that the most profound manner of expressing oneself is to simply – cry.
Heat scorches through the depths of her chest. Something coils up in her throat.
Oh no.
It’s happening.
Before she can stop herself,
the burn reaches her eyes.
Theres a silent storm whirling.
It traces pain down her cheeks.
Once upon a time there was a girl.
She was a miserable girl, screeching and wailing against the world day by day, till her voice ran out and her throat dried shut.
Still, they would visit her.
“Don’t make me cry,” whimpered Stephanie. “I hate crying. I don’t want to cry.”
“I’m not going to make you cry,” I said, my tone admittedly a bit bewildered. “Why would I do that?”
“Because everyone else makes me cry,” she said, and already, her eyes were beginning to shine. “My brother, my mommy, my daddy. They all make me cry. They all like making me cry.”
I cried and cried, cried with the rain beating down on me in torrents and droves. It tried to drive me into the ground, hitting me again and again and again. And I wished it could have. Nothing mattered any more.
My little sister was gone.