Pete has lived the miserable life of a pea – growing slowly in a pod than being shelled and canned in sweetend water with hideous preserves. Yuck.
Then someday, the can was opened, and all his friends and fellow sufferers went into a pot full of boiling soup.
Only Pete was falling down to the ground, then rolling under the refrigerator and sitting there, alone and miserable until he was rotten and eaten by cockroaches.
when your tired and you feel like you have nothing to do, when your mom asked you to do something and when your sick nd you do want to do anything else but watch television.
How often have I’ve been miserable in life? How often have I thought myself miserable. I understand misery but I am okay. I have my life, I have everything I need and I am now not miserable. I feel like I could be miserable very easily.
She sighed deeply, the kind of deep sigh that has no beginning or end but just seems to emit from your person like you’ve always done it. She hugged her knees to her chest and let the tears fall. What was she doing? She was giving up the best things in her life and for what?
Possibilities are collateral, they give you avenues to escape the inevitability of this miserable world. Even drawing up lists of the choices you have from this point, from now, is enough. You can hoard them, hold them like marbles in the palm of your hand, as you wait before choosing your next move.
Miserable is such a great word to describe extreme summer heat or winter cold. Its not often a word I use for feelings, but overly high or low temperatures can drastically change the mood of a day! I hope today isn’t miserable!
the weather outside for today was miserable and raining constantly making my emotions feel down in the dumps as my action pack day of mountain bike riding was cancelled due to the miserable weather and downpour.
I feel like that quite often. Even now. Because I am not native (english) speaker and I am very unsecure about my writing and grammar. This feeling is going hand in hand with my anxiety.
Miserable with memories of you from a decade ago, prompted by Ozzie’s “FRZZN,” don’t know why that song conjures up your silver Mustang, the hills of the state park, the kiss I considered my first. Looked you up. Shouldn’t have done that.
Right outside my foggy and rain covered window was a cat. It was curled up under a chair on my patio just sitting. It looked soaked, as if it had been in the rain for a while before I’d even seen it. The look in it’s eyes was one of misery and despair. I felt bad for the poor thing. Maybe… I could help it.
Yes, yes,
he’s miserably miserable,
his existence intolerable
working for a miserly miser,
growing older but not wiser
suffering in agony and misery,
I assure thee.
For every moment Jeannette is happy, she pays in hours with misery. It is all her mother’s fault. Everything is. If she has a hot fudge sundae, three scoops, whipped cream, nuts and cherry on top, she comes home and her mother knows what she’s done. As if she can read minds, or teleport, or has a spy following Jeannette. What happens then is the four-hour lecture, or is it fourteen, about the lifelong damages that can be done to young girls who indulge themselves in fat, sugar, and maraschino cherries. Then she takes Jeannette into the bathroom and uses one of her many techniques to force vomiting. When Jeannette goes to her room afterward, she sobs all night, is late for school, can’t concentrate and gets failing grades. So why does she continue to eat ice cream? Ah, that question is for another little essay to address.
Sometimes I’m miserable.
Seeing you miserable made me hurt. Like a spear to the heart. I cried-for a moment. And then I was okay.
I miss your friendship. I miss your hugs. I miss your smell. I miss your sideways laugh. I miss your sarcastic laugh…and then the squeaky laugh that follows if I get you laughing hard enough.
But I don’t miss being constantly miserable. I don’t miss crying alone. I don’t miss falling asleep cold. I don’t miss the yelling and heartache-never feeling enough. Staying home alone…trusting that you really were working at 10 at night. Holding your hand, wondering, “is this okay to do?” Having my every move questioned, every text message supervised. Feeling trapped and isolated. Being consistently miserable.
Sometimes Im still miserable. But only for a moment. Mostly, I’m happy.
Please be happy, too.
No one wants to be miserable, do they? You have to wonder. There is so much suffering in the world – self inflicted and inflicted on others. It feels like this is a choice and I don’t want to make choices that lead to misery for me. Do I care if my choices lead to other’s misery?
Im no longer miserable.
I smile, I laugh, I go out at night.
I have friends over, sing the wrong words to the songs on the radio without judgement.
Never before have I felt so free and so cared for all at the same time.
You made me miserable.
Now, Im alive.
Everyday of my life, I’m miserable. She thought. This was her one chance to change everything. She grabbed her suitcase and walked out the door. James, her best friend, was parked in her drive-way. Where would their adventure take them? She was about to find out.
Cold. Tired. Miserable. Just call me a bum, all right? I’m chilling on your street corner – specifically YOUR street corner – scrounging for coins underneath wet layers of newspaper and broken straw wrappers. I’m writing a funny message on a frayed piece of cardboard and asking for beer, when in reality my liver’s failing and I’ve got a gut bigger than Jupiter. I’m particularly interested in making sure you – yes, YOU – feel grossly uncomfortable as you sidle past my cold, tired, miserable husk of a body, as I sleep beneath the shade of a drugstore’s awning until one in the afternoon.
I’ve been miserable every day of my life. But not today.
I’m finally moving out of that place- I’m finally getting my own place to stay, and I couldn’t be better.
I walked out of the apartment’s door for the last time, dragging a suitcase along behind me. I’ve said my goodbyes, now onto my own life.
Pete has lived the miserable life of a pea – growing slowly in a pod than being shelled and canned in sweetend water with hideous preserves. Yuck.
Then someday, the can was opened, and all his friends and fellow sufferers went into a pot full of boiling soup.
Only Pete was falling down to the ground, then rolling under the refrigerator and sitting there, alone and miserable until he was rotten and eaten by cockroaches.
when your tired and you feel like you have nothing to do, when your mom asked you to do something and when your sick nd you do want to do anything else but watch television.
trust me,i am all of those
How often have I’ve been miserable in life? How often have I thought myself miserable. I understand misery but I am okay. I have my life, I have everything I need and I am now not miserable. I feel like I could be miserable very easily.
She sighed deeply, the kind of deep sigh that has no beginning or end but just seems to emit from your person like you’ve always done it. She hugged her knees to her chest and let the tears fall. What was she doing? She was giving up the best things in her life and for what?
I am not miserable, I am questioning not being miserable.
Hard to believe, I know, but just question why. You might understand then.
Possibilities are collateral, they give you avenues to escape the inevitability of this miserable world. Even drawing up lists of the choices you have from this point, from now, is enough. You can hoard them, hold them like marbles in the palm of your hand, as you wait before choosing your next move.
sad not happy deprest salty
lucy felt miserable when sammy beet him in a race but volt cheered her up with a pat on the back and said “you did a good job”
Miserable is such a great word to describe extreme summer heat or winter cold. Its not often a word I use for feelings, but overly high or low temperatures can drastically change the mood of a day! I hope today isn’t miserable!
the miserable marble eats cake then barfes it out cuts it inside cuts it outside
the weather outside for today was miserable and raining constantly making my emotions feel down in the dumps as my action pack day of mountain bike riding was cancelled due to the miserable weather and downpour.
I feel like that quite often. Even now. Because I am not native (english) speaker and I am very unsecure about my writing and grammar. This feeling is going hand in hand with my anxiety.
Miserable with memories of you from a decade ago, prompted by Ozzie’s “FRZZN,” don’t know why that song conjures up your silver Mustang, the hills of the state park, the kiss I considered my first. Looked you up. Shouldn’t have done that.
I felt miserable and disgusted when I heard about the Delhi rape case. It was an inhuman act. ghory and to be condemned.
Right outside my foggy and rain covered window was a cat. It was curled up under a chair on my patio just sitting. It looked soaked, as if it had been in the rain for a while before I’d even seen it. The look in it’s eyes was one of misery and despair. I felt bad for the poor thing. Maybe… I could help it.
Yes, yes,
he’s miserably miserable,
his existence intolerable
working for a miserly miser,
growing older but not wiser
suffering in agony and misery,
I assure thee.
For every moment Jeannette is happy, she pays in hours with misery. It is all her mother’s fault. Everything is. If she has a hot fudge sundae, three scoops, whipped cream, nuts and cherry on top, she comes home and her mother knows what she’s done. As if she can read minds, or teleport, or has a spy following Jeannette. What happens then is the four-hour lecture, or is it fourteen, about the lifelong damages that can be done to young girls who indulge themselves in fat, sugar, and maraschino cherries. Then she takes Jeannette into the bathroom and uses one of her many techniques to force vomiting. When Jeannette goes to her room afterward, she sobs all night, is late for school, can’t concentrate and gets failing grades. So why does she continue to eat ice cream? Ah, that question is for another little essay to address.
Misery. Able. Miserly. Rabble. Bottomless pit in my gut. Writhing around on the ground. Sobs so deep, welling up and up to reach the surface. Save me.
Sometimes I’m miserable.
Seeing you miserable made me hurt. Like a spear to the heart. I cried-for a moment. And then I was okay.
I miss your friendship. I miss your hugs. I miss your smell. I miss your sideways laugh. I miss your sarcastic laugh…and then the squeaky laugh that follows if I get you laughing hard enough.
But I don’t miss being constantly miserable. I don’t miss crying alone. I don’t miss falling asleep cold. I don’t miss the yelling and heartache-never feeling enough. Staying home alone…trusting that you really were working at 10 at night. Holding your hand, wondering, “is this okay to do?” Having my every move questioned, every text message supervised. Feeling trapped and isolated. Being consistently miserable.
Sometimes Im still miserable. But only for a moment. Mostly, I’m happy.
Please be happy, too.
No one wants to be miserable, do they? You have to wonder. There is so much suffering in the world – self inflicted and inflicted on others. It feels like this is a choice and I don’t want to make choices that lead to misery for me. Do I care if my choices lead to other’s misery?
Im no longer miserable.
I smile, I laugh, I go out at night.
I have friends over, sing the wrong words to the songs on the radio without judgement.
Never before have I felt so free and so cared for all at the same time.
You made me miserable.
Now, Im alive.
He miserable the race. The people that is miserable need to stay in the classroom.
Everyday of my life, I’m miserable. She thought. This was her one chance to change everything. She grabbed her suitcase and walked out the door. James, her best friend, was parked in her drive-way. Where would their adventure take them? She was about to find out.
Cold. Tired. Miserable. Just call me a bum, all right? I’m chilling on your street corner – specifically YOUR street corner – scrounging for coins underneath wet layers of newspaper and broken straw wrappers. I’m writing a funny message on a frayed piece of cardboard and asking for beer, when in reality my liver’s failing and I’ve got a gut bigger than Jupiter. I’m particularly interested in making sure you – yes, YOU – feel grossly uncomfortable as you sidle past my cold, tired, miserable husk of a body, as I sleep beneath the shade of a drugstore’s awning until one in the afternoon.
I’ve been miserable every day of my life. But not today.
I’m finally moving out of that place- I’m finally getting my own place to stay, and I couldn’t be better.
I walked out of the apartment’s door for the last time, dragging a suitcase along behind me. I’ve said my goodbyes, now onto my own life.