“Oh… I see,” she said, her voice breaking involuntarily on the last syllable. She sniffed to regain her composure, but it was too late to stop the tears. She looked him square in the eyes and could see that he was hurting more than she was. It didn’t matter. She wasn’t going to accept that from him.
Breaking news. Breaking glass. Breaking someone’s heart. Breaking a promise. Breaking a vow. Breaking your nose. Breaking someone else’s nose. Or arm. Or leg. Breaking into a million pieces. Breaking bad. Breaking, not braking. Breaking up. So many things we can break, don’t you think?
I am breaking down in tiny little pieces. need to go to bed asap. I am a panda hanging on a tree, sleeping like a sloth… slothing around my day, day dreaming about going to sleep and not waking up, broken.
My heart is breaking by even the thought of losing you. I know it won’t happen someday soon, but it will. And it will break me. Destroy me. That you won’t be here to kiss me goodnight or hold my hand. That you will be someone else’s.
I was not prepared for this. No clues, no sign, had indicated that somehow he would get fed up, and just up and leave. It was, mostly, a good ol’ slap in the face.
I sit watching him. Knowing that leaving is breaking his spirit. Knowing that staying will break mine. It is an impossible parting after fourteen long years of first breathing for each other and gradually barely breathing at all. I wonder at how time diminishes love. Each day it takes another chip of joy until there is nothing but comings and goings and the odd shared meal. But rarely anything interesting, meat and veg, same day in, same day out. I have to go or I’ll suffocate. But I love him. God, how I love him.
From the moment I saw him, I knew this boy would break my heart. So I stayed away from him. Then, he proved me wrong….he loved me, he cared for me, and he understood me. But my intuition is never wrong. He broke my heart and he did it without a tear.
breaking out, breaking free, tearing away from what used to be. going beyond, where I have never been, seeing what I have never seen. i’m breaking into what ? that’s yet to be seen
There was no going back, no redoing. The shattering was nearly complete and she was beautiful in the pain. Chaos was her bread and suffering her butter. Now there was nothing she could not accomplish.
We try to hide it, our breaking point. The one crack in our facade, plastered over by our pride and need to save face. But we’re weak. We’re feeble creatures who can be shattered by the smallest stone, the most minute offense. But how to strengthen our foundation?
Breaking. My heart is breaking. My life is breaking.my mind is breaking. I’m a maxe of sorts, falling crashing, descending. where will relief come from? Will it come? When? Help!!! I’m lost. Lost for words
breaking free from bondage of sin. breaking a piece of glass. breaking up with your boyfriend. breaking dawn. breaking bread together with brothers in Christ. breaking point. breaking your leg.
Lone Jack broke out of jail after 20 years in the penitentiary. He spent many nights using a small chisel cutting the block behind the picture and covering it up again so he would not be caught!
We had breaking news today in school as Ms. Renfro’s floor was soaked by the onset of a monsoon! It was heartbreaking to see the Janitors carrying the carpet into the book room to protect it.
How nice it is to be able to break things. Every occasion you have to be able to break something, you grab the tool with vigour and, giving it your full effort, you heave and throw the tool against the object to be broken.
He’d done this more than once. Ten times. A hundred times. A thousand. Who knew anymore? There didn’t even seem to be a point to it, but he kept doing it. Over and over and over. Well, not today. Today, he’d had enough. There was too much on his shoulders that he shouldn’t have to bear any longer.
i’m breaking in a million tiny letters every day. into letters like “s” and “r” and “k” and “b”. letters that could possibly mean something deeply profound. monday breaks down into the lows from a weekend that never seems long enough. wednesday is my favorite weekday. it’s the middle. it fits quite nicely on my tongue rolling off into the possibilities of plans for the weekend. i’m breaking into a million tiny letters every day. a word, a sentence, a story of my life being pieced back together when i pick them up and put them back together.
As the cliche goes, breaking up is hard to do. For some, it seems to be an almost insurmountable task. However, it is even harder to stay together due to a fear of breaking up, or of being alone. Many people fear separation, as they feel that breaking up results in breaking off a part of themselves. In fact, that is likely the goal – to leave a little piece of ourselves with every person we meet.
She walked out of the door for the last time, with tears in her eyes. After two years of late night conversations and young love, the girl decided that she no longer wanted to be abused by her boyfriend. No goodbyes were exchanged, as she snuck out that night. This is her breaking point.
I feel my walls breaking. They’re breaking down and it terrifies me. Ive built them up for so long, built them so strong, in preparation for something just like this. I dont want to get hurt, Im not willing to try. But my walls are breaking, and now theres not much left to protect me.
I could feel the my grip on the ledge slipping, but I wouldn’t let myself go. The fear off falling that far down, being shattered in the darkness scared me. I had never broken a bone before, and I wasn’t ready to break my whole body now. It was quiet, save for the small stones that kept taunting me as they slid down the cliff.
i was just 2 when it happened, i was in the kitchen and i heard a crash. it was my moms favorite vase that broke. i was really nervous on what would happen next.
Amsterdam was not a city of lost souls, so it was the worst city for me. I walked, and there would be bikers zooming past me to my left and right, couples, families, a solitary individual with a destination in my mind– and there was I walking, left in their cycling dust without a grounded thought in the world.
the breaking-neck news outstretched my limits;
sunned by the glamor of money;
pined by the enamouring of freedom;
I sailed out to my day,
wishing,
hoping,
seeking,
more….
so I shrouded my ears, that kin that never stops listening for the fine melody that which elopes me to a place where I am set free….
of all worries and concerns…
we are always striving; in our spare time from such, humanly endeavours, happiness, we should be driving!
Breaking something is very frustrating. As soon as it happens it sound violent. it hurts the senses and embodies your clumsiness; breaking is a little murder
“In breaking news,” mumbled Sarah, “I’m a brat. I’m a rude, obnoxious sonuvagun who bothers everyone I even remotely talk to. I talk on my cellphone in quiet coffee shops and ride my bike on the sidewalk when there’s no bike lane. I sometimes lurch into the crosswalk when driving my car because I’m trying to turn right and not get T-boned by some other driver. People think I’m a jerk. And I have to live with that headline.”
I am breaking. Everything is breaking. My face is breaking in as if it were smashed with a baseball bat and I am a porcelain doll. The pieces fall inside me and never come out. They disappear. They make sound if I’m shaken. I’m broken.
“Oh… I see,” she said, her voice breaking involuntarily on the last syllable. She sniffed to regain her composure, but it was too late to stop the tears. She looked him square in the eyes and could see that he was hurting more than she was. It didn’t matter. She wasn’t going to accept that from him.
Breaking news. Breaking glass. Breaking someone’s heart. Breaking a promise. Breaking a vow. Breaking your nose. Breaking someone else’s nose. Or arm. Or leg. Breaking into a million pieces. Breaking bad. Breaking, not braking. Breaking up. So many things we can break, don’t you think?
I am breaking down in tiny little pieces. need to go to bed asap. I am a panda hanging on a tree, sleeping like a sloth… slothing around my day, day dreaming about going to sleep and not waking up, broken.
you don’t know how I feel inside. I may be smiling, laughing and seems okay, but inside your words are breaking me into pieces.
My heart is breaking by even the thought of losing you. I know it won’t happen someday soon, but it will. And it will break me. Destroy me. That you won’t be here to kiss me goodnight or hold my hand. That you will be someone else’s.
I broke my hand.
Breaking news
I broke a vase.
I break my mom’s heart.
I was not prepared for this. No clues, no sign, had indicated that somehow he would get fed up, and just up and leave. It was, mostly, a good ol’ slap in the face.
We’re breaking free!! Soaring, gliding, something something something… LOL
Wow. High School Musical, back in the day!
Little Johnny was walking through the forest, twigs breaking under his feet as he stepped softly on the damp ground.
I sit watching him. Knowing that leaving is breaking his spirit. Knowing that staying will break mine. It is an impossible parting after fourteen long years of first breathing for each other and gradually barely breathing at all. I wonder at how time diminishes love. Each day it takes another chip of joy until there is nothing but comings and goings and the odd shared meal. But rarely anything interesting, meat and veg, same day in, same day out. I have to go or I’ll suffocate. But I love him. God, how I love him.
From the moment I saw him, I knew this boy would break my heart. So I stayed away from him. Then, he proved me wrong….he loved me, he cared for me, and he understood me. But my intuition is never wrong. He broke my heart and he did it without a tear.
breaking out, breaking free, tearing away from what used to be. going beyond, where I have never been, seeing what I have never seen. i’m breaking into what ? that’s yet to be seen
There was no going back, no redoing. The shattering was nearly complete and she was beautiful in the pain. Chaos was her bread and suffering her butter. Now there was nothing she could not accomplish.
We try to hide it, our breaking point. The one crack in our facade, plastered over by our pride and need to save face. But we’re weak. We’re feeble creatures who can be shattered by the smallest stone, the most minute offense. But how to strengthen our foundation?
I am breaking a pot in Zelda Windwaker right now. So yeah. I am going to be breaking the boss soon.
Breaking. My heart is breaking. My life is breaking.my mind is breaking. I’m a maxe of sorts, falling crashing, descending. where will relief come from? Will it come? When? Help!!! I’m lost. Lost for words
breaking: your neck, bones, glass, bread, free,
breaking free from bondage of sin. breaking a piece of glass. breaking up with your boyfriend. breaking dawn. breaking bread together with brothers in Christ. breaking point. breaking your leg.
She is reaching her breaking point if he doesn’t come to her soon.The time is near and he should know it, that she can’t wait for him forever.
Lone Jack broke out of jail after 20 years in the penitentiary. He spent many nights using a small chisel cutting the block behind the picture and covering it up again so he would not be caught!
Glass shatter, anti-matter, psilocybin x-factor, chutes and ladders
We had breaking news today in school as Ms. Renfro’s floor was soaked by the onset of a monsoon! It was heartbreaking to see the Janitors carrying the carpet into the book room to protect it.
How nice it is to be able to break things. Every occasion you have to be able to break something, you grab the tool with vigour and, giving it your full effort, you heave and throw the tool against the object to be broken.
He’d done this more than once. Ten times. A hundred times. A thousand. Who knew anymore? There didn’t even seem to be a point to it, but he kept doing it. Over and over and over. Well, not today. Today, he’d had enough. There was too much on his shoulders that he shouldn’t have to bear any longer.
When the dust came this time, he welcomed it.
i’m breaking in a million tiny letters every day. into letters like “s” and “r” and “k” and “b”. letters that could possibly mean something deeply profound. monday breaks down into the lows from a weekend that never seems long enough. wednesday is my favorite weekday. it’s the middle. it fits quite nicely on my tongue rolling off into the possibilities of plans for the weekend. i’m breaking into a million tiny letters every day. a word, a sentence, a story of my life being pieced back together when i pick them up and put them back together.
what a beautiful life this is.
News channels keeps bombarded us by pumping worries, despair and darkness in our hearts by name of “breaking news”.
You tell him
“you are not a monster”
He looks up at you
with wide eyes and a
parted mouth
There is nothing else you need to say
his face is written
shock, fear and realisation
he is
stunned into silence
You tell him
“you are not a monster”
and like that
he is yours
As the cliche goes, breaking up is hard to do. For some, it seems to be an almost insurmountable task. However, it is even harder to stay together due to a fear of breaking up, or of being alone. Many people fear separation, as they feel that breaking up results in breaking off a part of themselves. In fact, that is likely the goal – to leave a little piece of ourselves with every person we meet.
it was a regular day, i was out with my boyfriend when he said” im sorry, but i have to do this
She walked out of the door for the last time, with tears in her eyes. After two years of late night conversations and young love, the girl decided that she no longer wanted to be abused by her boyfriend. No goodbyes were exchanged, as she snuck out that night. This is her breaking point.
I feel my walls breaking. They’re breaking down and it terrifies me. Ive built them up for so long, built them so strong, in preparation for something just like this. I dont want to get hurt, Im not willing to try. But my walls are breaking, and now theres not much left to protect me.
I could feel the my grip on the ledge slipping, but I wouldn’t let myself go. The fear off falling that far down, being shattered in the darkness scared me. I had never broken a bone before, and I wasn’t ready to break my whole body now. It was quiet, save for the small stones that kept taunting me as they slid down the cliff.
OMG what a great website!!!!!
i was just 2 when it happened, i was in the kitchen and i heard a crash. it was my moms favorite vase that broke. i was really nervous on what would happen next.
Breaking. Everything was breaking around her.
Her relationships shattered and her family ties broke. She was alone, all alone.
And the world was broken, too. Breaking apart under her own thumb, and that of every other human on this broken world.
Maybe she was broken, too, and she didn’t realize it.
Hearts are so fragile. They can be broken by the simplest of words.
“I’m sorry,” he’d said, and I was left standing alone in the busy subway station.
Amsterdam was not a city of lost souls, so it was the worst city for me. I walked, and there would be bikers zooming past me to my left and right, couples, families, a solitary individual with a destination in my mind– and there was I walking, left in their cycling dust without a grounded thought in the world.
the breaking-neck news outstretched my limits;
sunned by the glamor of money;
pined by the enamouring of freedom;
I sailed out to my day,
wishing,
hoping,
seeking,
more….
so I shrouded my ears, that kin that never stops listening for the fine melody that which elopes me to a place where I am set free….
of all worries and concerns…
we are always striving; in our spare time from such, humanly endeavours, happiness, we should be driving!
Breaking something is very frustrating. As soon as it happens it sound violent. it hurts the senses and embodies your clumsiness; breaking is a little murder
“In breaking news,” mumbled Sarah, “I’m a brat. I’m a rude, obnoxious sonuvagun who bothers everyone I even remotely talk to. I talk on my cellphone in quiet coffee shops and ride my bike on the sidewalk when there’s no bike lane. I sometimes lurch into the crosswalk when driving my car because I’m trying to turn right and not get T-boned by some other driver. People think I’m a jerk. And I have to live with that headline.”
I am breaking. Everything is breaking. My face is breaking in as if it were smashed with a baseball bat and I am a porcelain doll. The pieces fall inside me and never come out. They disappear. They make sound if I’m shaken. I’m broken.