at the thought of your name
in a moment of pain
stick a needle into the vein
of hate
that carries all your memories
into my brain
you make me ill
in every way
like a drug, you are
i must
refrain
it’s not just a headache or a stuffy nose or a sore throat that makes you ill. it’s also a broken heart. it’s also the loss of a loved one. it’s also the fear of what’s to come. these can make you equally ill.
Ill. It rhymes with Jill is the first thing I think. Ill. My older brothers were ill last night. I figured it was hangover. I figure they deserve it, for leaving me behind….
Sick little girl. not sick so that everyone can see. just sick in the head. sick thoughts. sick games. twisted and sad little girl. what happened to you to make you so ill?
As soon as the tires hit the highway, I felt ill. How could my brother be such a prick at a time like this. I became his slave when i borrowed the money from him. Thank God my parents aren’t alive to see this. I will never do this again.
ill. ill is when you’re too sick to feel. ill is when someone you love hurt you. ill is that feeling in your heart, that feeling of utter emptiness, that keeps you up at night. ill is not just laying in a hospital bed, ill is hurting on the inside. ill is a deep depression raging inside your skin.
Ill wasn’t the right word though they kept using it. “They”, everyone and no one to him. “They” the doctors and his family. They…and ill. He hated those words. There was nothing wrong with him and he knew it. He wasn’t ill, the voices were normal. For him. He loved the voices and he wasn’t ill.
ill. ill is when you’re too sick to feel. ill is when someone you love hurt you. ill is that feeling in your heart, that feeling of utter emptiness, that keeps you up at night. ill is not just laying in a hospital bed, ill is hurting on the inside. ill is a deep depression raging inside your skin.
I was ill and laying in my bed wishing for death to come fast….but unfortunately i had the flu. But it felt like i was dying…if dying felt like body aches and vomiting on the mention of food. My mom came in to check my temprature..still 101….”Going to have to give you some more tylenol”….”can i have juice?” I asked in my child like voice…mom only smiled…nodded and disappeared for a few moments…later she produced two tylenol and a glass of orange juice.
Ill. Jeeze, I feel ill. 5 hour car trips are not fun, especially from someone that gets car sick. Headache, stomache ache, sore eyes, yuck. Doesn’t everyone hate being sick? I do.
the most powerful one work that I can think of is gratitude. there’s nothing more inspiring, more moving that feeling, that all inspiring feeling of feeling grateful. When you can let go and only hold on to the appreciation of the gifts of the moment.
ill im ill at the sight of it ill that i could do nothing to help nothing to harm nothing to alter the situation at all it’s not my fault there is no fault and yet you’re ill unfairly ill because of life a life that has made you that way with parents and friends who have turned on you and only continued to make you more and more ill
Sick. Anger marches. Sadness staggers. His left leg amputated. His heart bruised with the metal that anchors it. He is ill beyond any cure. He storms through their front door, and she hides in their old bedroom. Memories of what were.
i’m ill from love. Love’s my sickness, love’s my escape.
Everytime you go away i lose strength, i lose my center, my way.
When will this sickening feeling go away?
I don’t feel good. I don’t know why. No one knows why. It’s a disease without a name, without a cause. I will die soon. They all do. And funny thing is- I am not scared.
No.
I should be.
But i am not.
It is like an adventure, one I plan on beating.
She couldn’t hold it down any longer. The sway was sickening, the lipid swing of the clockwise spoon beneath her fingertips, the froth that threatened to foam back to her lips and out again, promising relief.
I am ill. but not really. I have no sickness, no physical sickness at least. I am ill in the heart. my heart aches from loneliness and from pain you gave me. I am ill from heartbreak. I wish to be cured from this disease.
i am ill. but not really. i have no sickness, no physical sickness at least. i am ill in the heart. my heart aches from lonelyness and from pain you gave me. i am ill from heartbreak. i wish to be cured from this disease.
I don’t feel good. I don’t know why. no one knows why. it’s a disease without a name, without a cause. I will die soon. They all do. And funny thing is- I’m not scared.
No.
I should be.
But i am not.
It is like an adventure; a challenge. One I plan on beating.
sick, people who have cancer and others. It makes me think of hospitals and I don’t like hospitals because theres probably alot of ghosts in them. yeah i believe in ghosts because I have had encounters blah blah blah I know someone whos momma is in the hospital with cancer.
I’ll always go to a place called Heaven
Where angels will sing and dance
I want to see my loved ones
Love, singing, praises, joy
Something to long for and behold!
Come on and let’s have fun!
Shouting and dancing
I can’t wait for that day
i’ll hopefully one day become a doctor. I”ll make enough money so I can travel and see the world.I’ll get married and have a family that I love and adore. I’ll live to an old age and still be in love with my husband when I die. .
i dont want to be ill. i dont like being sick. im watching childresns hospitale. That deals with ill ppl. i am ill. i have social ancieties. i am going to get over my illness. i am going to be a confident person. there is no other way about it. I must live my life. or i will die aone
The tingling raced up Chase’s spine. A flush ran through his face and he knelt over, groaning from a pain that had its origin deep within his gut. Franklin looked at him quizzically. “Chase? You all right?” he asked, knowing full well that his question was pointless–Chase had gone bright red and was shuddering violently.
Precisely how I feel. Almost as if the life has been sucked out of me through the veins that branch beneath my skin, just a touch away.
Ill of the mind to be even considering the thoughts that flutter about my mind’s eye with all that I have to be so joyous for. Tell me, why am I sick, doctor? Diagnose me, give me an answer because with all the searching I have done for more years than I care to count, I still do not have a viable solution to the problem I face each morning when I open my eyes and see nothing but the obstacles I am forced to overcome; As of late I am nothing but a medium of entertainment for those around me to jeer at. Tell me, doctor: Why am I ill?
there was a man on the street. He was alone and coughing up blood. Nobody noticed him, or stopped to inquire. He lay on the road dying. This was the way the world worked.
You make me ill. I don’t know why I am even around you. You are like a virus that I can’t get rid of. The sad thing is that I don’t want to get rid of you. I need you , I crave you I must have you. Even though you make me ill, You are kiling me and all I do is want more of you.
Sick and nauseous. I lay in bed. My skin is pale and my fingernails are yellow and brittle, cracking off. I am tired of living, struck with the disease called “death.” I can’t find a cure, and I can’t escape this diagnosis. I can only speed up the pace of the illness.
The fever was over a hundred and four. Time to call the doctor.
“The doctor will be here soon, Sweetie. Just hold on.” The frantic mother tried to call the boy. He had been sick for days. His pallor was off. This might mean a hospital visit.
Ill will. Ill-timed. Do we do these things by accident or on purpose? Sometimes I think the things we do and the words we say that others consider to be ill spring from within us. We do not do things that are ill by accident; we do ill because we are ill.
Stomach churning, face flushed.
“Stupid stupid.”
I should have cleared you from my life.
Stupid stupid, computer remembered for me.
Curiosity killed my appetite,
I read the messages, read you move on.
Stupid stupid.
Sick. Twisted. Ill. It all made sense in context. And all things considered, it was pretty accurate. Because I was twisted, I was ill. I just didn’t care. I wanted to see it all burn. THEM all burn. And no one would get in my way. Not even the Batman.
I am ill. Not the kind of ill that goes away in a week. The kind that takes months and hopefully, not years. It’s more so a disease of the heart. Heartsick, I believe they call it.
Everything and everyone becomes ill because we are all connected like leaves touching branches or knees bumping into each other on the train. Spreading, spilling out onto each other, sharing our illnesses, our flaws, our secrets, our ghosts. Like leaves on trees we fall and scatter together, dying separately but all at once.
at the thought of your name
in a moment of pain
stick a needle into the vein
of hate
that carries all your memories
into my brain
you make me ill
in every way
like a drug, you are
i must
refrain
I have serious psychanalitycal illnesses at this time : I spend all my time on Youtube and Oneword.com, I cannot sleep on the night anymore…
it’s not just a headache or a stuffy nose or a sore throat that makes you ill. it’s also a broken heart. it’s also the loss of a loved one. it’s also the fear of what’s to come. these can make you equally ill.
Ill. It rhymes with Jill is the first thing I think. Ill. My older brothers were ill last night. I figured it was hangover. I figure they deserve it, for leaving me behind….
Sick little girl. not sick so that everyone can see. just sick in the head. sick thoughts. sick games. twisted and sad little girl. what happened to you to make you so ill?
As soon as the tires hit the highway, I felt ill. How could my brother be such a prick at a time like this. I became his slave when i borrowed the money from him. Thank God my parents aren’t alive to see this. I will never do this again.
ill. ill is when you’re too sick to feel. ill is when someone you love hurt you. ill is that feeling in your heart, that feeling of utter emptiness, that keeps you up at night. ill is not just laying in a hospital bed, ill is hurting on the inside. ill is a deep depression raging inside your skin.
Ill wasn’t the right word though they kept using it. “They”, everyone and no one to him. “They” the doctors and his family. They…and ill. He hated those words. There was nothing wrong with him and he knew it. He wasn’t ill, the voices were normal. For him. He loved the voices and he wasn’t ill.
ill. ill is when you’re too sick to feel. ill is when someone you love hurt you. ill is that feeling in your heart, that feeling of utter emptiness, that keeps you up at night. ill is not just laying in a hospital bed, ill is hurting on the inside. ill is a deep depression raging inside your skin.
I was ill and laying in my bed wishing for death to come fast….but unfortunately i had the flu. But it felt like i was dying…if dying felt like body aches and vomiting on the mention of food. My mom came in to check my temprature..still 101….”Going to have to give you some more tylenol”….”can i have juice?” I asked in my child like voice…mom only smiled…nodded and disappeared for a few moments…later she produced two tylenol and a glass of orange juice.
Ill. Jeeze, I feel ill. 5 hour car trips are not fun, especially from someone that gets car sick. Headache, stomache ache, sore eyes, yuck. Doesn’t everyone hate being sick? I do.
the most powerful one work that I can think of is gratitude. there’s nothing more inspiring, more moving that feeling, that all inspiring feeling of feeling grateful. When you can let go and only hold on to the appreciation of the gifts of the moment.
ill im ill at the sight of it ill that i could do nothing to help nothing to harm nothing to alter the situation at all it’s not my fault there is no fault and yet you’re ill unfairly ill because of life a life that has made you that way with parents and friends who have turned on you and only continued to make you more and more ill
Sick. Anger marches. Sadness staggers. His left leg amputated. His heart bruised with the metal that anchors it. He is ill beyond any cure. He storms through their front door, and she hides in their old bedroom. Memories of what were.
It’s as if he doesn’t even care about his illness; he does the things he was advised not to do by the doctors.
i’m ill from love. Love’s my sickness, love’s my escape.
Everytime you go away i lose strength, i lose my center, my way.
When will this sickening feeling go away?
I don’t feel good. I don’t know why. No one knows why. It’s a disease without a name, without a cause. I will die soon. They all do. And funny thing is- I am not scared.
No.
I should be.
But i am not.
It is like an adventure, one I plan on beating.
Not feeling well? Don’t focus on it. Accept it for what it is. Focus on what is working instead of what is not working.
Do you need help? That’s ok. Ask for it. Put your hand up and declare your need.
She couldn’t hold it down any longer. The sway was sickening, the lipid swing of the clockwise spoon beneath her fingertips, the froth that threatened to foam back to her lips and out again, promising relief.
I am ill. but not really. I have no sickness, no physical sickness at least. I am ill in the heart. my heart aches from loneliness and from pain you gave me. I am ill from heartbreak. I wish to be cured from this disease.
grive les hêtres
seul tu fuis la
puise le tison
i am ill. but not really. i have no sickness, no physical sickness at least. i am ill in the heart. my heart aches from lonelyness and from pain you gave me. i am ill from heartbreak. i wish to be cured from this disease.
I don’t feel good. I don’t know why. no one knows why. it’s a disease without a name, without a cause. I will die soon. They all do. And funny thing is- I’m not scared.
No.
I should be.
But i am not.
It is like an adventure; a challenge. One I plan on beating.
sick, people who have cancer and others. It makes me think of hospitals and I don’t like hospitals because theres probably alot of ghosts in them. yeah i believe in ghosts because I have had encounters blah blah blah I know someone whos momma is in the hospital with cancer.
I’ll always go to a place called Heaven
Where angels will sing and dance
I want to see my loved ones
Love, singing, praises, joy
Something to long for and behold!
Come on and let’s have fun!
Shouting and dancing
I can’t wait for that day
i’ll hopefully one day become a doctor. I”ll make enough money so I can travel and see the world.I’ll get married and have a family that I love and adore. I’ll live to an old age and still be in love with my husband when I die. .
i dont want to be ill. i dont like being sick. im watching childresns hospitale. That deals with ill ppl. i am ill. i have social ancieties. i am going to get over my illness. i am going to be a confident person. there is no other way about it. I must live my life. or i will die aone
The tingling raced up Chase’s spine. A flush ran through his face and he knelt over, groaning from a pain that had its origin deep within his gut. Franklin looked at him quizzically. “Chase? You all right?” he asked, knowing full well that his question was pointless–Chase had gone bright red and was shuddering violently.
Precisely how I feel. Almost as if the life has been sucked out of me through the veins that branch beneath my skin, just a touch away.
Ill of the mind to be even considering the thoughts that flutter about my mind’s eye with all that I have to be so joyous for. Tell me, why am I sick, doctor? Diagnose me, give me an answer because with all the searching I have done for more years than I care to count, I still do not have a viable solution to the problem I face each morning when I open my eyes and see nothing but the obstacles I am forced to overcome; As of late I am nothing but a medium of entertainment for those around me to jeer at. Tell me, doctor: Why am I ill?
there was a man on the street. He was alone and coughing up blood. Nobody noticed him, or stopped to inquire. He lay on the road dying. This was the way the world worked.
You make me ill. I don’t know why I am even around you. You are like a virus that I can’t get rid of. The sad thing is that I don’t want to get rid of you. I need you , I crave you I must have you. Even though you make me ill, You are kiling me and all I do is want more of you.
Sick and nauseous. I lay in bed. My skin is pale and my fingernails are yellow and brittle, cracking off. I am tired of living, struck with the disease called “death.” I can’t find a cure, and I can’t escape this diagnosis. I can only speed up the pace of the illness.
The fever was over a hundred and four. Time to call the doctor.
“The doctor will be here soon, Sweetie. Just hold on.” The frantic mother tried to call the boy. He had been sick for days. His pallor was off. This might mean a hospital visit.
How could they afford it? She wondered.
I find that my emotions are very much tied to my physical health. If i’m sad, stressed or over excited i feel ill. I wish i knew how to unlink the two
Ill will. Ill-timed. Do we do these things by accident or on purpose? Sometimes I think the things we do and the words we say that others consider to be ill spring from within us. We do not do things that are ill by accident; we do ill because we are ill.
Stomach churning, face flushed.
“Stupid stupid.”
I should have cleared you from my life.
Stupid stupid, computer remembered for me.
Curiosity killed my appetite,
I read the messages, read you move on.
Stupid stupid.
Sick. Twisted. Ill. It all made sense in context. And all things considered, it was pretty accurate. Because I was twisted, I was ill. I just didn’t care. I wanted to see it all burn. THEM all burn. And no one would get in my way. Not even the Batman.
Here.
Lean into my shoulder;
Here, have some surface
To slide your worries from.
I’ll stir for a time till you settle.
I am ill. Not the kind of ill that goes away in a week. The kind that takes months and hopefully, not years. It’s more so a disease of the heart. Heartsick, I believe they call it.
Everything and everyone becomes ill because we are all connected like leaves touching branches or knees bumping into each other on the train. Spreading, spilling out onto each other, sharing our illnesses, our flaws, our secrets, our ghosts. Like leaves on trees we fall and scatter together, dying separately but all at once.