I raged in the clearing, clawing at my skin until my nails came away bloody, only to look up sharply as I heard the sounds of her approach.
“You seem distressed, mistress,”
I snarled, lips pulling back to reveal pointed teeth. But she didn’t cower, not that I truly expected her too. No, instead she laughed, the sound of it setting my insides on fire. “I hate you.”
“I’m sure you do,” she quipped, shrugging a single shoulder. “But I really couldn’t care less.”
“You turned me into a MONSTER.” I snapped.
She smiled, her fangs flashing in the moonlight. “So I did.”
A full-time student: the seemingly innocuous title was beyond distressing. She hadn’t taken more than three courses a semester since high school, and now she intended to not only tackle five, but to bury herself in the antithesis of her passion: the hard sciences.
The whites of her eyes were all we could see now, rolled back into her head in pain. Jack was there, clutching her hand so hard his knuckles were blanched, crying and making little sounds of distress in the back of his throat. The rest of us just stood around and watched, hating how useless we felt.
The ship is in distress, but I’m in no hurry. I watch the waves crashing around and see the men jumping ship. It makes me laugh. My fingers dig into my palms inside the relative safety of my pockets. This will be the last time. I will never see the sun again.
There were several things to which owed his level of pulling-hair-out-eyes-wide-screaming distress. And they all started when he left his boots out and his cat decided to piss in them.
She looked up. Too high. Even with a chair. He wasn’t there to help. With the weight of the world on her tiny shoulders, she looked around the empty kitchen for something to throw up at the bright box of cereal tauntingly perched on top of the fridge.
It happens once and a while where a person feels helpless, hopeless, worthless and they give up. What is even worse is, they give on up those who can help them the most. More importantly, they give up on themselves. Life is changing every which way and outcomes will differ between each of us. We all take in and put out in different ways. We handle successes and opportunities is different ways, too. This could be concerning especially the way opportunities are handled. It is easy to allow something so small to eat you up inside because you may not have handled a situation in a way you wanted. This thought can linger to the point where something so small became so large; all you need to do is take it in, learn from it, and more on……
She paced the house back and forth trying to ignore the distress building in her heart. Why would she allow another man to make her feel this way was beyond her. She was in love and couldn’t stop.
Her car broke down in the middle of nowhere. In distress. She looked for her cell phone. Nowhere to be found. This is when she began to panic. How could I be so careless she thought. It took her a moment to gather her thoughts and just when it all started to make sense…..
“That is so distressing,” she said, averting her eyes form the scene. Her companion, however, could not take his eyes away. They would not budge. It is interesting that two people could have such opposite reactions to the same scene.
My arms beat at the shapes of clothing
Ripping and tearing and darkening
Spraying false years on.
Songs and silences cannot convey all
But with the visual representations of your fears
Your hardships
And your hunger
The greyscale story tells itself
The pain, the distress is like a flash of steel as it cuts through your heart, tearing you apart and destroying every and stopping you in your tracks. It’s so cold, so cold you can feel it burning your skin and turning your blood to ice. It brings tears to your eyes and you stop and you fall to the ground and it’s all you can do to breathe because all of a sudden, nothing is alright.
I don’t visibly display my distress. I keep it hidden. It slowly bubbles up, higher and higher, and more and more intense. Eventually it shoots way up and sputters all over the place.
He was scared. He was nervous. He didn’t want to go home, he didn’t want to face his mother and father and his older brother after what his brother had seen him do… He had seen him kissing someone. But not just anyone. A boy. He was kissing another boy. And now, his brother was going to tell his parents and his parents were going to kill him.
He was in distress as he dropped his backpack onto the ground and weakly called out, “I-I’m home!”
As soon as he did so, his mother, father, older brother, and, somehow, his boyfriend were upon him and hugging him tightly.
“I love you.” They all say together.
He smiles, burying his face in his boyfriend’s chest and grinning widely. That was a LOT easier than he had imagined it would be.
Calling my name. In the city I can’t seem to hear. It’s not my noise. It do anything at all. Don’t call for Alice when she’s ten feet tall. She can’t hear, nope. She can’t hear you at all.
The state of distress that I put myself in every Sunday would lead some people to make better choices on Saturday night. Those would be smarter people. More content people. Fulfilled people. I am not one of those people. So, it will remain…Sundays=distressed.
She’s in distress! We have to deliver the baby now!
But it’s too early, she’s too small.
We have no choice. She at least gets a chance if we deliver now.
Owwwwww.
Okay honey, push push push.
SCREAMMMM.
and she slides into the world, tiny, but alive.
im a damsel in distress
rescue me
come on
prince in charming
i’m waiting
at the bodega around the corner
but where are you?
smoking a cigarette in the park
sweating in the night with your arm around another
girl
your tongue down her throat
or are you walking alongside me
but you aren’t seeing me
even though you’re looking me in the eye
you’re not seeing my distress
i’m a damsel in distress
please help me
i’m a mess
The manager sighed and put down the cucumbers he was checking on and proceeded to march through the store, following the distinct sound of wailing and whining. I decided to follow him, just in case they needed someone who could “understand.” The woman was kneeling on the floor, several chocolate bars strewn beside her.
We all wish for others to know when we need help, but we don’t like to call for help. We try to communicate without words, to communicate personal pain with a darkening of our eyes, little frowns at the end of sentences, quick good-byes and hellos. It’s a friend’s job to find these little, silent calls of distress.
“Distress?”
“Yes. Distress.” he said, nodding, “Different from eustress, which is completely different and sometimes preferable.”
“Yes.” she said,
“We seem to be rhyming.”
“Perhaps.”
“Not any more.”
“No.”
“Are you fond of tea?”
“Why no, no more than reason.” she said,
“Oh.” he said, then paused, and reached out for a crumpet. “What of crumpets? Dost thou like them?”
“No more than reason.” she said, with a categoric shrug.
“Oh.” he said, then huffed, “It’s very hard to make conversation with you, milady.”
wearing a nervous nice dress
shoes shine teeth white
thirty minutes early
wait
in a dark chair
feet tapping
fingers pick at cotton threads
fumbling
thumbing through magazines
eyes glaze over glossy faces
stress distress confess
never done this before
my darling damsel
travels east and west
in search of
third-world mess.
she brings hope…
she be blessed.
she longs to save them,
not at her own expense.
my darling damsel
be not in distress.
Everyone’s in it, whether they admit to it or not. So many people refuse to ask for help, and it sucks to see someone suffering, not knowing whether to help them or not because they never bothered to signal for help, or yell MAN DOWN.
Distress hits me like a mac truck. It overwhelms me; consumes my day, week, summer. I can’t get away from it. Will i be successful next year or will I fall flat on my face. Will I be accepted or ostracized. I am distressed.
Fear, distress, anxiety, nervousness. Emotions. All of which I feel every day. This world has been changing, I’ve felt it, known it. But the process is speeding up. I am no longer safe, we are no longer safe, and fear, well it’s become the go-to emotion. Every moment spent here is one spent in terror. Yet we remain here, because an escape is damn near impossible.
I couldn’t account for the feeling that came over me at that moment, as the plane began to descend towards the crowd of onlookers and each child’s face seemed to go from a moment of exhilarated joy to one of panic and perhaps an adumbration that this was the last thing they would ever see.
The outside air was cold, snow floating down softly. Her skin was hot and the only thing she could hear was the rhythmic “Tha-Thump” of her heart pounding against her ribcage.
A common emotion with a myriad of triggers. I feel it at the thought of the black abyss that may be my future. My sister, at the thought of spiders. How can it be that this common human emotion is so uncommonly perceived?
She sat on the couch with her head in her hands.
“What am I gonna do?” she murmured.
“Darling its okay,” he came up behind her and began rubbing her shoulders, “everything will work out fine. I promise.”
I was distressed when my kids would not listen to me. I thought I was doing a good job, but their mouths kept talking when I was giving directions. I wish I had kids who listened to me all the time. I am sick and tired of the talking back and the cocky attitudes that they give. Eric and I need to do something about them.
There many situations that cause distress and embarrassment for you when you lease aspect them to occur. Take for instance your joy at returning home from a trip overseas, and to your amazement none of your luggage can be located.
I raged in the clearing, clawing at my skin until my nails came away bloody, only to look up sharply as I heard the sounds of her approach.
“You seem distressed, mistress,”
I snarled, lips pulling back to reveal pointed teeth. But she didn’t cower, not that I truly expected her too. No, instead she laughed, the sound of it setting my insides on fire. “I hate you.”
“I’m sure you do,” she quipped, shrugging a single shoulder. “But I really couldn’t care less.”
“You turned me into a MONSTER.” I snapped.
She smiled, her fangs flashing in the moonlight. “So I did.”
A full-time student: the seemingly innocuous title was beyond distressing. She hadn’t taken more than three courses a semester since high school, and now she intended to not only tackle five, but to bury herself in the antithesis of her passion: the hard sciences.
The whites of her eyes were all we could see now, rolled back into her head in pain. Jack was there, clutching her hand so hard his knuckles were blanched, crying and making little sounds of distress in the back of his throat. The rest of us just stood around and watched, hating how useless we felt.
The ship is in distress, but I’m in no hurry. I watch the waves crashing around and see the men jumping ship. It makes me laugh. My fingers dig into my palms inside the relative safety of my pockets. This will be the last time. I will never see the sun again.
There were several things to which owed his level of pulling-hair-out-eyes-wide-screaming distress. And they all started when he left his boots out and his cat decided to piss in them.
She looked up. Too high. Even with a chair. He wasn’t there to help. With the weight of the world on her tiny shoulders, she looked around the empty kitchen for something to throw up at the bright box of cereal tauntingly perched on top of the fridge.
It happens once and a while where a person feels helpless, hopeless, worthless and they give up. What is even worse is, they give on up those who can help them the most. More importantly, they give up on themselves. Life is changing every which way and outcomes will differ between each of us. We all take in and put out in different ways. We handle successes and opportunities is different ways, too. This could be concerning especially the way opportunities are handled. It is easy to allow something so small to eat you up inside because you may not have handled a situation in a way you wanted. This thought can linger to the point where something so small became so large; all you need to do is take it in, learn from it, and more on……
She paced the house back and forth trying to ignore the distress building in her heart. Why would she allow another man to make her feel this way was beyond her. She was in love and couldn’t stop.
Her car broke down in the middle of nowhere. In distress. She looked for her cell phone. Nowhere to be found. This is when she began to panic. How could I be so careless she thought. It took her a moment to gather her thoughts and just when it all started to make sense…..
Miss Di Samantha Tress
wore a delightful dress,
catching light in the sun.
Reflections are great fun,
she says to the boy–
never one who’s coy.
“That is so distressing,” she said, averting her eyes form the scene. Her companion, however, could not take his eyes away. They would not budge. It is interesting that two people could have such opposite reactions to the same scene.
My arms beat at the shapes of clothing
Ripping and tearing and darkening
Spraying false years on.
Songs and silences cannot convey all
But with the visual representations of your fears
Your hardships
And your hunger
The greyscale story tells itself
The pain, the distress is like a flash of steel as it cuts through your heart, tearing you apart and destroying every and stopping you in your tracks. It’s so cold, so cold you can feel it burning your skin and turning your blood to ice. It brings tears to your eyes and you stop and you fall to the ground and it’s all you can do to breathe because all of a sudden, nothing is alright.
There’s some distress under your dress and you’ve noticed you’ve lost control, time to remember what that old shaman said.
I don’t visibly display my distress. I keep it hidden. It slowly bubbles up, higher and higher, and more and more intense. Eventually it shoots way up and sputters all over the place.
He was scared. He was nervous. He didn’t want to go home, he didn’t want to face his mother and father and his older brother after what his brother had seen him do… He had seen him kissing someone. But not just anyone. A boy. He was kissing another boy. And now, his brother was going to tell his parents and his parents were going to kill him.
He was in distress as he dropped his backpack onto the ground and weakly called out, “I-I’m home!”
As soon as he did so, his mother, father, older brother, and, somehow, his boyfriend were upon him and hugging him tightly.
“I love you.” They all say together.
He smiles, burying his face in his boyfriend’s chest and grinning widely. That was a LOT easier than he had imagined it would be.
Calling my name. In the city I can’t seem to hear. It’s not my noise. It do anything at all. Don’t call for Alice when she’s ten feet tall. She can’t hear, nope. She can’t hear you at all.
The state of distress that I put myself in every Sunday would lead some people to make better choices on Saturday night. Those would be smarter people. More content people. Fulfilled people. I am not one of those people. So, it will remain…Sundays=distressed.
She’s in distress! We have to deliver the baby now!
But it’s too early, she’s too small.
We have no choice. She at least gets a chance if we deliver now.
Owwwwww.
Okay honey, push push push.
SCREAMMMM.
and she slides into the world, tiny, but alive.
im a damsel in distress
rescue me
come on
prince in charming
i’m waiting
at the bodega around the corner
but where are you?
smoking a cigarette in the park
sweating in the night with your arm around another
girl
your tongue down her throat
or are you walking alongside me
but you aren’t seeing me
even though you’re looking me in the eye
you’re not seeing my distress
i’m a damsel in distress
please help me
i’m a mess
“We have a customer in distress on Aisle Three.”
“Aisle Three. Of course. That’s the candy aisle.”
The manager sighed and put down the cucumbers he was checking on and proceeded to march through the store, following the distinct sound of wailing and whining. I decided to follow him, just in case they needed someone who could “understand.” The woman was kneeling on the floor, several chocolate bars strewn beside her.
We all wish for others to know when we need help, but we don’t like to call for help. We try to communicate without words, to communicate personal pain with a darkening of our eyes, little frowns at the end of sentences, quick good-byes and hellos. It’s a friend’s job to find these little, silent calls of distress.
“Distress?”
“Yes. Distress.” he said, nodding, “Different from eustress, which is completely different and sometimes preferable.”
“Yes.” she said,
“We seem to be rhyming.”
“Perhaps.”
“Not any more.”
“No.”
“Are you fond of tea?”
“Why no, no more than reason.” she said,
“Oh.” he said, then paused, and reached out for a crumpet. “What of crumpets? Dost thou like them?”
“No more than reason.” she said, with a categoric shrug.
“Oh.” he said, then huffed, “It’s very hard to make conversation with you, milady.”
A distress signal was heard in the distance. It was hard to hear as the wind distorted all sounds.
wearing a nervous nice dress
shoes shine teeth white
thirty minutes early
wait
in a dark chair
feet tapping
fingers pick at cotton threads
fumbling
thumbing through magazines
eyes glaze over glossy faces
stress distress confess
never done this before
Andy wasn’t lucid enough to be seen as conscious.Yet,Robyn’s words put his fading mind clearly into distress.
I’m kinda in distress over my thoughts right now.
my darling damsel
travels east and west
in search of
third-world mess.
she brings hope…
she be blessed.
she longs to save them,
not at her own expense.
my darling damsel
be not in distress.
cey
Everyone’s in it, whether they admit to it or not. So many people refuse to ask for help, and it sucks to see someone suffering, not knowing whether to help them or not because they never bothered to signal for help, or yell MAN DOWN.
Distress hits me like a mac truck. It overwhelms me; consumes my day, week, summer. I can’t get away from it. Will i be successful next year or will I fall flat on my face. Will I be accepted or ostracized. I am distressed.
Fear, distress, anxiety, nervousness. Emotions. All of which I feel every day. This world has been changing, I’ve felt it, known it. But the process is speeding up. I am no longer safe, we are no longer safe, and fear, well it’s become the go-to emotion. Every moment spent here is one spent in terror. Yet we remain here, because an escape is damn near impossible.
I couldn’t account for the feeling that came over me at that moment, as the plane began to descend towards the crowd of onlookers and each child’s face seemed to go from a moment of exhilarated joy to one of panic and perhaps an adumbration that this was the last thing they would ever see.
distress. dis. tress. ddiissttrreess. d.i.s.t.r.e.s.s. ssertsid. tressdis. distress.
The outside air was cold, snow floating down softly. Her skin was hot and the only thing she could hear was the rhythmic “Tha-Thump” of her heart pounding against her ribcage.
A common emotion with a myriad of triggers. I feel it at the thought of the black abyss that may be my future. My sister, at the thought of spiders. How can it be that this common human emotion is so uncommonly perceived?
She sat on the couch with her head in her hands.
“What am I gonna do?” she murmured.
“Darling its okay,” he came up behind her and began rubbing her shoulders, “everything will work out fine. I promise.”
distress, distress! how do i look in this dress? i’ll give you your attention, honey. but if we have to fight i’ll punchfirstandpunchhard.
I was distressed when my kids would not listen to me. I thought I was doing a good job, but their mouths kept talking when I was giving directions. I wish I had kids who listened to me all the time. I am sick and tired of the talking back and the cocky attitudes that they give. Eric and I need to do something about them.
I don’t know where I am.
There is no one here.
I need help.
There is none.
Panic.
There many situations that cause distress and embarrassment for you when you lease aspect them to occur. Take for instance your joy at returning home from a trip overseas, and to your amazement none of your luggage can be located.