Everyone I’ve ever pushed away: How do I say sorry? Because I’m not, but my heart aches when I think of the loss. I had to do what was right for me; I had to get out of a situation that I knew was wrong. But that doesn’t mean I don’t feel guilty and melancholy. I see the pile, waiting to be burned. It’s been lying on my floor for months. Remnants of past friendships–they cry out in anguish. I need a match, and I need freedom from sad souls that drag me down to the depths of despair.
ha! what webs we weave…..as I sit on my birthday recognizing the importance of embracing the lessons I have learned these past 30 years! Many of the hardest lessons have been learned via heartache
My heartaches with the beauty of you when I hold you in my arms, and I had no idea that to love you would hurt this much. No one prepared me for the agony of motherhood when I awaited your birth. Welcoming you into this world was the easy part.
Life without Sherlock was much like life BEFORE Sherlock. Or at least, John had to keep telling himself that. If he really stopped to analyze the differences, he invariably found himself curled uncomfortably into his armchair, trying not to sob loudly enough to warrant a trip up the stairs from Mrs. Hudson. It wasn’t that her visits didn’t help, so much as he didn’t want to exacerbate her hip. But yes, a hot cup of tea, a slow rub of the back, and a fond anecdote or two were usually enough to distract John from the detective-shaped hole presiding in the other armchair. As Mrs. Hudson was leaving after one such occasion, John blinked away his last tear and thanked her again for her company.
“Don’t mention it, dear, I know what it’s like to deal with heartache. You should have seen me after I found out my husband wasn’t the man I thought he was.” With a smile and a blown good-night kiss, the kindly little landlady carefully worked her way down the stairs, leaving John to stare pointedly out the window, instead of at the other chair.
Life without John was like nothing Sherlock had ever experienced before. Each week found him in a new location, donning a new identity, hunting a new target. He could barely recognize himself in a mirror anymore, and his surroundings were entirely unfamiliar. Japan was kinder to him than most places; Bangkok was harsher than most. Sherlock missed the life of luxury he’d grown up accustomed to. He missed the cases which kept his mind occupied. He missed the smell and the sight and the feel of London. And most of all, he missed not being alone.
“Brilliant,” he mumbled softly to himself, filling in both the roles of himself and John as he zeroed in on his next quarry.
“Not at all,” the other half of his mind pardoned, following along silently with the rest of the thought process.
Occasionally he was forced to stay in one location long enough to build up a report with the locals. Never long enough to make a new friend.
He texted her. She took a moment to read it, but once she was done she closed her eyes and threw her phone as hard as she could into the lake. Damn him. It was Autumn, but she felt like she was freezing. Ice was running through her veins now and her heart hurt.
i can tell you all too much about this. have hurt longer than i was happy, have wished for the illusion to come back, heartache, my old enemy, i’ll be glad to see you gone.
I wouldn’t call it heartache, but there’s a feeling inside of me that is strange. If I focus on it enough, I notice that it is bothersome and uncomfortable. I wonder why I have it, and why it won’t go away. It’s strange how something mental like this can overcome me physically in such a manner.
heartache. heres another word that conjures up nothing but annoyance and pity for anyone whos actually used to word heartache seriously. heartache is for people who consider valentines day a holiday.
it’s what I feel when
when you don’t call
when you ignore
when you come to me on your own terms
what I give myself when I settle
when I reach too far
it’s a constant in my life
Emilia couldn’t go near him. Not yet, not when he was in danger. If she came closer, they would know that he was in danger. They would see him as vulnerable and attack. She had to stay away, no matter how much the heartache hurt. Seeing her Felix, her Flash, chasing after her was pain. But no matter what, she couldn’t give in. It was to keep him safe. One day, perhaps, she could let go of the painful wall that cut them apart. For now, however, she was left with heartache.
The depths of the word are only giving birth to new heights of its fulfillment. There are only steps forward. There is an unending flow of love and guidance that is stretching your capacities.
Until the inspired is felt through it’s magnificence, the flow of the universe leans towards fulfillment; my heart hurts. It has a yearning, a calling. I am the one to answer.
You learned to love, I learned to hate, and we are both fine with the way things were. Until heartache and lies and long nights full of the feeling of slight tipsiness came into the equation.
i wondered with a little flitter
hoping she might come away from twitter
she looked around, gave a glance,
but in the end,
I was all but a meaningless dance.
it was such adisastrous day… i couldne’t beleive what she was tellign em. she had finally come to a decision that i thought would never be possible. i mean, after all this time?? seriously? she latched the suitcase lid and looked at me with those sad, sad eyes… she was heading back to england and i was to be stranded in the middle of nowhere… again. this was my life with a movie star.
i’m sorry for causing this heartache. but i think we both know what this means. it’s Easter Sunday. there never was a significant date, and there never will be for ‘us’. today let’s let the heartache begin, and end. bittersweet easter bunnies.
Despite the fact i’m going through heartbreak, or.. heartache now, i don’t really know what to write. An emotional rage letter would make sense, but what does that solve? All i can say to whomever is going through a tough time now, is that it will get better. Lame, I know. But in the end, it will be okay. If it isn’t, then it’s not the end. Keep your chin up.
Heartache….I word I know well. Too well. I’ve put my heart through so much pain over him…and yet I still haven’t learned. I still think that he will eventually feel about me as I feel about him, but deep down I know I’m just telling myself that because I need to hope.
After a while it wasn’t even heartache. Either that or Astor just became so accustomed to the dull pain in his chest that he eventually forgot it was there. It was just stagnation, emptiness, apathy. He just stopped.
I thought I’d be experiencing this after a breakup, not in a relationship. I don’t think this is working. It won’t stop hurting. My rib cage feels bruised. My brain is tired, I’m tired of being cast aside.
Heartache on Easter was not all that common. Christmas, definitely. Valentine’s Day, of course. Even Thanksgiving could provide that same lonely pang in the gut and right beneath the ribcage. But Easter? Not so much.
Benny glumly sat by himself at the small dinner table arranged in his flat, gazing at the basket of Easter candy that his mother had sent him. But no amount of Cadbury eggs or sweet Bordeaux could appease his sweet tooth or his once sweet mind. He had met Lucy on Easter.
My heartache carries me across the land. The weight is sometimes overbearing, I can barely take, but then I put on a brave face and I just keep going. I go on and on, and I have gone on so long I can no longer stop. I have tried to stop, I cannot and I have decided I will not, not anymore. It’s to late. Then again it’s never too late.
Die Herzasche ist rot. Man sollte glauben, sie wäre braungrau wie alle andere Aschen, aber es ist nicht so. Es scheint uns nur so, weil wir sie im Allgemeinen immer mit der restlichen Körperasche vermischt sehen. Das Herz macht nur einen Bruchteil des Körpergewebes aus. Daher wird die Farbe des Herzens von der Farbe des Fleisches übertönt.
Heartache always follows sin. Your heart actually hurts when you realize you have hurt someone that you should love. The pain can last for my years. Hopefully the one you hurt is willing to accept a heartful apology. If not, then that person whom you hurt now also has to carry pain.
My deepest heartache, however, hurt my Dad when he was dying. I know he forgave me, but now that he is gone I was never able to work the pain from my heart. We should never hurt anyone. Go to bed each night saying “I love you!”
I barely knew him, Yes, this was true, but I wanted too. So bad. But there was something that I feared. If I spoke, would I be faced with silence? Just like the first time? Just like the last time?.. The thought hurt my chest. It hurt my heart.. And I knew what this Heartache was.. I knew It was my breaking heart.
The heartache she felt as she watched the chopper take to the sky was perhaps the worst feeling she’d ever experienced. Then again, what was this separation, but necessary? They couldn’t be together nor were they ever really able to coexist happily when they were. Things fell apart as often as not although she wanted badly for them to work. Perhaps, perhaps it was for the best. Still though, that great emptiness stayed a hard know between her ribs as the wind blew away the tears that she was not crying.
The only heartache I’ve ever felt was the kind that fell upon me swiftly and without warning. The kind that breaks apart everything you have. No feelings are spared.
Laughter to silence,
The smell of perfume turned sour.
It’s like the cut on the roof of your mouth,
It would heal if you could just stop tonguing it.
The heartache I feel, is not going away. I see you and touch your skin, friends…Yes we are, I want more.
Everyone I’ve ever pushed away: How do I say sorry? Because I’m not, but my heart aches when I think of the loss. I had to do what was right for me; I had to get out of a situation that I knew was wrong. But that doesn’t mean I don’t feel guilty and melancholy. I see the pile, waiting to be burned. It’s been lying on my floor for months. Remnants of past friendships–they cry out in anguish. I need a match, and I need freedom from sad souls that drag me down to the depths of despair.
ha! what webs we weave…..as I sit on my birthday recognizing the importance of embracing the lessons I have learned these past 30 years! Many of the hardest lessons have been learned via heartache
My heartache increased in intensity every time I saw you with her. I’m still not over you.
My heartaches with the beauty of you when I hold you in my arms, and I had no idea that to love you would hurt this much. No one prepared me for the agony of motherhood when I awaited your birth. Welcoming you into this world was the easy part.
Life without Sherlock was much like life BEFORE Sherlock. Or at least, John had to keep telling himself that. If he really stopped to analyze the differences, he invariably found himself curled uncomfortably into his armchair, trying not to sob loudly enough to warrant a trip up the stairs from Mrs. Hudson. It wasn’t that her visits didn’t help, so much as he didn’t want to exacerbate her hip. But yes, a hot cup of tea, a slow rub of the back, and a fond anecdote or two were usually enough to distract John from the detective-shaped hole presiding in the other armchair. As Mrs. Hudson was leaving after one such occasion, John blinked away his last tear and thanked her again for her company.
“Don’t mention it, dear, I know what it’s like to deal with heartache. You should have seen me after I found out my husband wasn’t the man I thought he was.” With a smile and a blown good-night kiss, the kindly little landlady carefully worked her way down the stairs, leaving John to stare pointedly out the window, instead of at the other chair.
Life without John was like nothing Sherlock had ever experienced before. Each week found him in a new location, donning a new identity, hunting a new target. He could barely recognize himself in a mirror anymore, and his surroundings were entirely unfamiliar. Japan was kinder to him than most places; Bangkok was harsher than most. Sherlock missed the life of luxury he’d grown up accustomed to. He missed the cases which kept his mind occupied. He missed the smell and the sight and the feel of London. And most of all, he missed not being alone.
“Brilliant,” he mumbled softly to himself, filling in both the roles of himself and John as he zeroed in on his next quarry.
“Not at all,” the other half of his mind pardoned, following along silently with the rest of the thought process.
Occasionally he was forced to stay in one location long enough to build up a report with the locals. Never long enough to make a new friend.
He texted her. She took a moment to read it, but once she was done she closed her eyes and threw her phone as hard as she could into the lake. Damn him. It was Autumn, but she felt like she was freezing. Ice was running through her veins now and her heart hurt.
Even the hardest heartache, will heal in time.
i can tell you all too much about this. have hurt longer than i was happy, have wished for the illusion to come back, heartache, my old enemy, i’ll be glad to see you gone.
The one ache that hurts the most………… :(
I never believed i could feel heartache like this, I thought by sealing my heart I’d be immune to such useless feeling.
I wouldn’t call it heartache, but there’s a feeling inside of me that is strange. If I focus on it enough, I notice that it is bothersome and uncomfortable. I wonder why I have it, and why it won’t go away. It’s strange how something mental like this can overcome me physically in such a manner.
heartache. heres another word that conjures up nothing but annoyance and pity for anyone whos actually used to word heartache seriously. heartache is for people who consider valentines day a holiday.
it’s what I feel when
when you don’t call
when you ignore
when you come to me on your own terms
what I give myself when I settle
when I reach too far
it’s a constant in my life
Emilia couldn’t go near him. Not yet, not when he was in danger. If she came closer, they would know that he was in danger. They would see him as vulnerable and attack. She had to stay away, no matter how much the heartache hurt. Seeing her Felix, her Flash, chasing after her was pain. But no matter what, she couldn’t give in. It was to keep him safe. One day, perhaps, she could let go of the painful wall that cut them apart. For now, however, she was left with heartache.
heartache
in the last state of mind
blind passion in
a flower petal design
come to me
don’t leave me behind
again
The depths of the word are only giving birth to new heights of its fulfillment. There are only steps forward. There is an unending flow of love and guidance that is stretching your capacities.
Until the inspired is felt through it’s magnificence, the flow of the universe leans towards fulfillment; my heart hurts. It has a yearning, a calling. I am the one to answer.
my heart throbs, the tear drops of your eyes
and she aches because you had to say good bye
but she never even knew why
You learned to love, I learned to hate, and we are both fine with the way things were. Until heartache and lies and long nights full of the feeling of slight tipsiness came into the equation.
Two thumps and he turns to his side.
He can feel the extra flabs in his stomach curling in, and he shifts again. A small pop unfurls in his chest.
He resolves to count sheep.
Oh, my dear Freya, whom deepened my heartache as was expected when she left the country. Boy, what a hoot I am!
i wondered with a little flitter
hoping she might come away from twitter
she looked around, gave a glance,
but in the end,
I was all but a meaningless dance.
it was such adisastrous day… i couldne’t beleive what she was tellign em. she had finally come to a decision that i thought would never be possible. i mean, after all this time?? seriously? she latched the suitcase lid and looked at me with those sad, sad eyes… she was heading back to england and i was to be stranded in the middle of nowhere… again. this was my life with a movie star.
i’m sorry for causing this heartache. but i think we both know what this means. it’s Easter Sunday. there never was a significant date, and there never will be for ‘us’. today let’s let the heartache begin, and end. bittersweet easter bunnies.
Despite the fact i’m going through heartbreak, or.. heartache now, i don’t really know what to write. An emotional rage letter would make sense, but what does that solve? All i can say to whomever is going through a tough time now, is that it will get better. Lame, I know. But in the end, it will be okay. If it isn’t, then it’s not the end. Keep your chin up.
You’re better without them.
Heartache….I word I know well. Too well. I’ve put my heart through so much pain over him…and yet I still haven’t learned. I still think that he will eventually feel about me as I feel about him, but deep down I know I’m just telling myself that because I need to hope.
No more heartache…no more sadness…HE’S ALIVE!!!..CHRIST IS ALIVE. Happy Easter to all.
The sweet pull of sitting next to you in class with our fingers almost touching. See Love
After a while it wasn’t even heartache. Either that or Astor just became so accustomed to the dull pain in his chest that he eventually forgot it was there. It was just stagnation, emptiness, apathy. He just stopped.
Good morning, heartache.
That’s what she said. Cliché? Yes. Made the point though.
I thought I’d be experiencing this after a breakup, not in a relationship. I don’t think this is working. It won’t stop hurting. My rib cage feels bruised. My brain is tired, I’m tired of being cast aside.
Heartache on Easter was not all that common. Christmas, definitely. Valentine’s Day, of course. Even Thanksgiving could provide that same lonely pang in the gut and right beneath the ribcage. But Easter? Not so much.
Benny glumly sat by himself at the small dinner table arranged in his flat, gazing at the basket of Easter candy that his mother had sent him. But no amount of Cadbury eggs or sweet Bordeaux could appease his sweet tooth or his once sweet mind. He had met Lucy on Easter.
My heartache carries me across the land. The weight is sometimes overbearing, I can barely take, but then I put on a brave face and I just keep going. I go on and on, and I have gone on so long I can no longer stop. I have tried to stop, I cannot and I have decided I will not, not anymore. It’s to late. Then again it’s never too late.
Die Herzasche ist rot. Man sollte glauben, sie wäre braungrau wie alle andere Aschen, aber es ist nicht so. Es scheint uns nur so, weil wir sie im Allgemeinen immer mit der restlichen Körperasche vermischt sehen. Das Herz macht nur einen Bruchteil des Körpergewebes aus. Daher wird die Farbe des Herzens von der Farbe des Fleisches übertönt.
Heartache always follows sin. Your heart actually hurts when you realize you have hurt someone that you should love. The pain can last for my years. Hopefully the one you hurt is willing to accept a heartful apology. If not, then that person whom you hurt now also has to carry pain.
My deepest heartache, however, hurt my Dad when he was dying. I know he forgave me, but now that he is gone I was never able to work the pain from my heart. We should never hurt anyone. Go to bed each night saying “I love you!”
I barely knew him, Yes, this was true, but I wanted too. So bad. But there was something that I feared. If I spoke, would I be faced with silence? Just like the first time? Just like the last time?.. The thought hurt my chest. It hurt my heart.. And I knew what this Heartache was.. I knew It was my breaking heart.
The heartache she felt as she watched the chopper take to the sky was perhaps the worst feeling she’d ever experienced. Then again, what was this separation, but necessary? They couldn’t be together nor were they ever really able to coexist happily when they were. Things fell apart as often as not although she wanted badly for them to work. Perhaps, perhaps it was for the best. Still though, that great emptiness stayed a hard know between her ribs as the wind blew away the tears that she was not crying.
The only heartache I’ve ever felt was the kind that fell upon me swiftly and without warning. The kind that breaks apart everything you have. No feelings are spared.