The day i left the foster home, i felt excitement but heartache, i barfed up in an arbys bag. I missed my friends, there was a hole in me but it was replaced by love from my new parents Brad and Angelina. I love them.
She did it all.
She took sprits and crumbled them, smashed faith, and broke hearts. She went too far in every snarky comment she made, wanted blood every time she opened her mouth to speak. She wasn’t an animal; animals still had the ability to feel.
But what made her so unrelenting, so unforgivable wasn’t what she did. It was the fact that she didn’t feel a thing after she did them.
His heart ached like an orange that had been squeezed too tightly. Spurts of citrus-y juiced sprang from the crevices and crannies of his heart, and it stung like a motherfucker.
it did, but i didn’t. i was just out of it, aching on my on, no heart – it’s gone. what? i didn’t really care anymore, it didn’t have ANYthing to do with me anyway, so the ache wasn’t even aching, it was even FINE, like some muscle pain that hurts but it’s nice, like i’m some kind of masochist that has nothing else to hope for except heartache, just to feel like it’s still there.
It hurt to see him leave. But only momentarily. There were bigger things at stake and I couldn’t afford any distractions. My other option was to kill him, but I could never bring myself to see the life go out of those lips that once lit me up. I sharpened my tool as he walked away, knowing well I had no other choice.
It’s like a rope joining your hearts together, but when you say goodbye the rope becomes taught, gets stretched until the tension makes your heart hurt and it is all you can think about – that aching in your chest.
“Jello” – jello means it is kind of jelly and it’s like jelly beans that it rhymes with jelly.
My story happens when I get jelly beans and I throw them on the computer and it messed up the computer and it broke it. And then my story happens when I get jello.
Jello is my favorite snack. That’s why my story is because I like it. It’s very yummy.
Is a feeling I remembered just today, watching Breaking Upwards, a film about a young couple navigating the end of their relationship through polyamory, insults and gut-wrenching pain.
That moment a child realizes everything dies. That everything follows the rule of entropy. The moment the veil of perfection is broken. Utter heartache. Destruction.
Heartache is such a powerful word. I hope that most of our daily annoyances are just pains and piddles and don’t mount to the level of heartache. One can steer clear of
heartache most of the time by living the life you love and giving to others so you have no regrets.
Heartache-seeing children without food, without shelter without love. Wanting to help, but not knowing how. A loved one grieving. An ache inside that doesn’t seem to be able to be cured.
And then came the pain. A darkness so severe it threatened to engulf all of humanity in its arms. This was the weight of strife and heartache. The gruesome experience inflicted on mankind by its own folly.
She couldn’t breathe. She couldn’t even move. All she felt was the paralyzing ache in the middle of her chest. It was like something was sucking everything inward, like a black hole crushing everything inside of her very being. There wasn’t anything else for her to do except sob and scream and destroy and break. He was gone. He was never coming back.
I stared at his face, memorizing the curves of his nose and the dip of his cheekbone. His lips were a wonderful thing to behold and he smiled softly in his sleep. My heart ached; how I longed to actually be with him. How I wanted to be in his arms. Soon, I thought to myself, soon. And with that, I drifted off to sleep.
The car drove along the edge of road
like a knife spreading butter on the crust
gathering debris and dirty along the way
no soft verge to smooth the route across
his legs, chest, until his pop out
a bloody rocket on its way to the sky
Last Sunday I had a terrible headache. I couldn’t believe my bad luck since it was my brother’s wedding and I was in charge of the music preparations. In the end, after a couple of pills every x hours, I was able to enjoy the day.
Learning that everything was a lie. Wishing that she was dead instead of learning that she was a liar, because it would hurt much less that it does now.
Heartache, huh? Well, I really don’t understand why they call it heartache – it doesn’t hurt just in my heart, it hurts everywhere. It hurts everywhere you’d never see, it’s in all corners of my fragile heart and it hurts so deep, it’s nearly impossible to heal. And even if it does heal someday, that scar will remain and the memories will trigger. When my eyes meet yours, all I’d feel is pain. My chest would hurt, my legs too will choose to run and my eyes would sing a lullaby away. They would turn away from you and silence the heart from misery.
Wait. What does this thing do? What is it’s purpose? Porpoise? Dolphin? Fish? Tuna? Casserole? Dinner? Breakfast? Morning? Night? Sleep? Dreams? Self-awareness? Purpose? What?!
The beating in my chest has not slowed, it has only become more painful. It seems that in this moment the world has ended. I am lost. Why am I still here without you?
Wow…heartache. We’re really pullin’ for the “emo” crowd here on this one.
So let’s dilute the overt amount of what’s bound to be poured on and get to the crux of what we should be going for here: what it means to have heartache.
Heartache is something that some can claim to have, but that’s almost like receiving a Purple Heart for accidentally stepping on a nail. To say you have it, whether true or not, is almost like saying you have wisdom: it yanks the thread of what you’re trying to sew at the same time. You can say you have heartache, but that’s more of a cry for help. . . and it’s fine to cry for help. But with true heartache, you just cry.
And yeah, that’s a cliché. But I’m not the one that put this word up so that people could drone on about people that fucked them over when they could be spending that time tirelessly battling to get “joy” back on their list. It sucks. . . to an incredible degree, and even more so when your life’s suddenly been weakened, but the sooner that I realized I was 1)better off, or 2)strong enough to trudge through and eventually out of whatever happened, it took nothing more than dropping my feet off of my bed and tying my shoes to get going again, cuz after you’ve tied them . . . you might as well get to runnin’.
It wasn’t enough to erase me from your memory, but to erase the footprint you left in my heart was cruel. Now I walked the Earth wondering why I felt a void. A void no amount of love, friendships, and drugs could ever fill. I died unfulfilled. I died incomplete.
It is that stabbing pain, that horrible wound that scars but never fully heals. Like an old war injury that is at times forgotten but returns with a vengeance every time the winds shift it lingers within your soul, piercing it through your core until even breathing seems too much.
The day i left the foster home, i felt excitement but heartache, i barfed up in an arbys bag. I missed my friends, there was a hole in me but it was replaced by love from my new parents Brad and Angelina. I love them.
She did it all.
She took sprits and crumbled them, smashed faith, and broke hearts. She went too far in every snarky comment she made, wanted blood every time she opened her mouth to speak. She wasn’t an animal; animals still had the ability to feel.
But what made her so unrelenting, so unforgivable wasn’t what she did. It was the fact that she didn’t feel a thing after she did them.
His heart ached like an orange that had been squeezed too tightly. Spurts of citrus-y juiced sprang from the crevices and crannies of his heart, and it stung like a motherfucker.
it did, but i didn’t. i was just out of it, aching on my on, no heart – it’s gone. what? i didn’t really care anymore, it didn’t have ANYthing to do with me anyway, so the ache wasn’t even aching, it was even FINE, like some muscle pain that hurts but it’s nice, like i’m some kind of masochist that has nothing else to hope for except heartache, just to feel like it’s still there.
It hurt to see him leave. But only momentarily. There were bigger things at stake and I couldn’t afford any distractions. My other option was to kill him, but I could never bring myself to see the life go out of those lips that once lit me up. I sharpened my tool as he walked away, knowing well I had no other choice.
It’s like a rope joining your hearts together, but when you say goodbye the rope becomes taught, gets stretched until the tension makes your heart hurt and it is all you can think about – that aching in your chest.
“Jello” – jello means it is kind of jelly and it’s like jelly beans that it rhymes with jelly.
My story happens when I get jelly beans and I throw them on the computer and it messed up the computer and it broke it. And then my story happens when I get jello.
Jello is my favorite snack. That’s why my story is because I like it. It’s very yummy.
whaaa whaaa whaaa!
because I’m being so sad!
I’m being so sad and I cried and cried!
THe bad man’s just did it.
He killed me and then I just cried.
That’s what my story is!
Is a feeling I remembered just today, watching Breaking Upwards, a film about a young couple navigating the end of their relationship through polyamory, insults and gut-wrenching pain.
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The meaning to the word heartache is when your sad,lonely, when you think you can’t go on something like that.
i never had a heartache because Im still young
A heartache is when something or someone has hurt you bad.
i felt heartache when my girlfriend broke up with me:(
some people call a heartache a heart attack, but i consider them both different.
A heartache is when you are sad when someone breaks your heart or something like that. My cousin had a dramatic heartache last Tuesday!!!:)
Heartache is where our heart is hurting like beating or banging on your chest so hard or like if it is broken or something.
He had a heartache for months after he had heard what was happening. He didn’t know excatly what he had done wrong but he knew he needed to fix it.
People get hart ache when u scare the crap out of them. My mom gets a lot of heartaches.
I have had a heartache before. It usually happens when you are sad or heartbroken. But other than that it is a pain in your heart.
That moment a child realizes everything dies. That everything follows the rule of entropy. The moment the veil of perfection is broken. Utter heartache. Destruction.
Heartache is such a powerful word. I hope that most of our daily annoyances are just pains and piddles and don’t mount to the level of heartache. One can steer clear of
heartache most of the time by living the life you love and giving to others so you have no regrets.
Heartache-seeing children without food, without shelter without love. Wanting to help, but not knowing how. A loved one grieving. An ache inside that doesn’t seem to be able to be cured.
And then came the pain. A darkness so severe it threatened to engulf all of humanity in its arms. This was the weight of strife and heartache. The gruesome experience inflicted on mankind by its own folly.
She couldn’t breathe. She couldn’t even move. All she felt was the paralyzing ache in the middle of her chest. It was like something was sucking everything inward, like a black hole crushing everything inside of her very being. There wasn’t anything else for her to do except sob and scream and destroy and break. He was gone. He was never coming back.
to bury deep inside this heartache I write…
to get some release.
Funny this should be the word given to me,
Just when this is what I seek to heal…
i have suffered too much of it…its heartache…strokes the cracks that are already there, making them itch
I stared at his face, memorizing the curves of his nose and the dip of his cheekbone. His lips were a wonderful thing to behold and he smiled softly in his sleep. My heart ached; how I longed to actually be with him. How I wanted to be in his arms. Soon, I thought to myself, soon. And with that, I drifted off to sleep.
The car drove along the edge of road
like a knife spreading butter on the crust
gathering debris and dirty along the way
no soft verge to smooth the route across
his legs, chest, until his pop out
a bloody rocket on its way to the sky
Last Sunday I had a terrible headache. I couldn’t believe my bad luck since it was my brother’s wedding and I was in charge of the music preparations. In the end, after a couple of pills every x hours, I was able to enjoy the day.
Learning that everything was a lie. Wishing that she was dead instead of learning that she was a liar, because it would hurt much less that it does now.
You don’t know me
There is no me
Without you
That is heartbreak, baby
And I am broken
Patch me Up
Sew the seams
Bring me round
So show me that heartache ain’t forever
Heartache, huh? Well, I really don’t understand why they call it heartache – it doesn’t hurt just in my heart, it hurts everywhere. It hurts everywhere you’d never see, it’s in all corners of my fragile heart and it hurts so deep, it’s nearly impossible to heal. And even if it does heal someday, that scar will remain and the memories will trigger. When my eyes meet yours, all I’d feel is pain. My chest would hurt, my legs too will choose to run and my eyes would sing a lullaby away. They would turn away from you and silence the heart from misery.
Wait. What does this thing do? What is it’s purpose? Porpoise? Dolphin? Fish? Tuna? Casserole? Dinner? Breakfast? Morning? Night? Sleep? Dreams? Self-awareness? Purpose? What?!
resilience
experience
learning
pain
understanding
growing
living
acceptance
denial
bitterness
cold
The beating in my chest has not slowed, it has only become more painful. It seems that in this moment the world has ended. I am lost. Why am I still here without you?
Wow…heartache. We’re really pullin’ for the “emo” crowd here on this one.
So let’s dilute the overt amount of what’s bound to be poured on and get to the crux of what we should be going for here: what it means to have heartache.
Heartache is something that some can claim to have, but that’s almost like receiving a Purple Heart for accidentally stepping on a nail. To say you have it, whether true or not, is almost like saying you have wisdom: it yanks the thread of what you’re trying to sew at the same time. You can say you have heartache, but that’s more of a cry for help. . . and it’s fine to cry for help. But with true heartache, you just cry.
And yeah, that’s a cliché. But I’m not the one that put this word up so that people could drone on about people that fucked them over when they could be spending that time tirelessly battling to get “joy” back on their list. It sucks. . . to an incredible degree, and even more so when your life’s suddenly been weakened, but the sooner that I realized I was 1)better off, or 2)strong enough to trudge through and eventually out of whatever happened, it took nothing more than dropping my feet off of my bed and tying my shoes to get going again, cuz after you’ve tied them . . . you might as well get to runnin’.
Heartache
Without You
My heart aches
My mind breaks
I need you.
I am speechless
without you
It wasn’t enough to erase me from your memory, but to erase the footprint you left in my heart was cruel. Now I walked the Earth wondering why I felt a void. A void no amount of love, friendships, and drugs could ever fill. I died unfulfilled. I died incomplete.
It is that stabbing pain, that horrible wound that scars but never fully heals. Like an old war injury that is at times forgotten but returns with a vengeance every time the winds shift it lingers within your soul, piercing it through your core until even breathing seems too much.