Dark, empty place, lonely, red falling down my arm. I don’t want to be alone but I don’t want to see anyone either. Tears falling down my cheeks, a void in my chest. Why does it hurt so badly? I wish I could feel nothing at all and then I regret it. I am alone and things will never get better. This empty feeling will never go away.
She sat on the stairway sobbing her heart out for a few hours. And it felt good. It felt good to finally get it all out of her system. She was tired of always pretending that she’s okay and that she can go on. For the first time ever she admitted to herself that there are things she can’t do things she doesn’t want to do and things she doesn’t have enough energy for. And for the first time in a long time she was happy. Happy that she could finally let go, happy to realize that it’s not only the ones around her that matter, that it’s not her job to please everyone. Because after many long years she finally realized that no matter how hard she tries they will never be pleased with her and they will always want more. So she decided to stop trying to please everyone and try to find the things that would make her happy. That night she realized that the only person who had truly been there for her through thick and thin was her own self. And it was finally time for her to show some well deserved kindness to herself, to live and to rediscover all the little joys of life.
The tears that poured from her eyes were ever present. The statue’s contorted, horrified face was forever sobbing, water forever pouring from her tired, sad eyes. Who had done this to her? Who wounded this woman to the point of perpetual tears?
The tears that poured from her eyes were ever present. The statue’s contorted, horrified face was forever sobbing, water forever pouring from her tired, sad eyes. Who had done this to her? Who wounded this woman to the point of perpetual tears?
tears running down my face, I was seeing him for the last time. he was gone, he was DEAD, he was my life. I was sobbing, the only thing I could do now since that my life was taken away from me…
Oh, it’s been awhile since I had a good sob. I let tears well, but then I think of salt conservation and the feeling fades away. 90 seconds. That’s the supposed response time of any given emotionally driven biological reaction. Or think of it as you will, perhaps you are considering the triggers of your own brand of emotional circuitry. After 90 seconds you decide whether or not to explore those feelings in depth, fan the flames or dry the tears, whether it is to encourage or stifle the grieving or anger or etc, etc, etc. I wonder if this holds true when it comes to surges of love, most likely. Most likely. A sudden change of heart based of how others make you feel, isn’t that the rub? There’s a science to it all. It only requires thought beyond the act of laughing or sobbing. The intellectuals postulate this is why the Western way of tragedy and comedy seem super dominant and so catching, whether it’s like a thought plague or just a simple idea. The narrative arcs always culminate in distinct point, and after the height, the finale: bing-bang-boom, draw the curtains folks we have our story. Not so in other cultures where there are forms going on where the journey is extended on a liner plane where scenes like screen change, falling cherry blossom forms that are evolving right along side the “Western” way of thought. Think of the ways you will perish for nothing. That should get you sobbing. As all the good dramatists know.
Cam tried to ignore everything. She tried to ignore the incessant sobbing in the background, the way Dustin’s mom had her lips pinched closed, the way Dustin was sitting, stone face, right next to her.
Ellie draped her arms over Cam’s shoulder. “I’m so sorry, Cam.”
She felt the sadness crawling inside her creeping every inch of her limbs until she collapsed knees down on the pavement and gushed out all the emotions she was suppressing all this time. It’s been a year. It’s been a f*cking year. The longest year she had to pretend and convince herself that she’s whole, that her fragmented self somehow would hold itself until time heals all wounds and does its job done, until–in some pipe dream–he returns back from the grave.
Destiny tried not to roll her eyes as her sister did ‘the thing’. They all knew it was coming. First her lip would quiver and then her eyes would take on this Bambi glassy-eyed quality that only the seasoned observer could fend off. Luckily, her father was one of them. After being denied permission to stay out past curfew, her sister predictably crumbled into hysterics. Destiny and her father exchanged a knowing look, and she held in a giggle as he offered the melodramatic sobbing mess on the floor a few tissues.
She was sitting on bench, alone, in the park. Tears were running down her face, eyes were getting swollen.
How can this happen to her? She was PhD holder
She could feel the sadness moving through her body like a dump truck, barreling out at the least opportune moments and making itself known. She tried to stop it, but the noise just got louder and louder until she was sure it would swallow her up. She pulled out her phone. Hitting Tricia’s name, she said a silent prayer that her sister would pick up.
I don’t remember last time I was sobbing. I have always felt very uncomfortable sobbing myself or around people who are sobbing. It is a strong emotional expression and strong emotional reactions make me feel powerless, I feel like I just can wait.
She sobbed as she walked out of the class. Finally she understood everything that had gone wrong with her life, it was not her fault that she felt different, she was different and the New Way people had taken hold of her mind and showed her how exciting her life could be. He watched her walk across the carpark and turned to his co-lecturer “Good night tonight, we made 8 of them sob and I think we’ll convert at least 3 into slaves of the order. Especially that one walking across the carpark and when we do, I want her for my personal slave”.
he doesn’t even know how it happened, how the stars above had managed to fall into such a horrendous place for this to have happened. he doesn’t even know how to go about mourning. he’s only ever known quiet and grey and cold. he doesn’t even know he’s sobbing.
I do it best in the shower where no one can hear me. In my car too. I usually need a sad song to come on to have permission to start. I can turn it off on a dime, too. I don’t give myself permission very often, but when it do it is heart-wrenching sobs.
I woke in the middle of the night to my little girl sobbing. I ran to her, almost tripping over the dead body. I crouched down beside her, looking at her blood stained t-shirt. Wait, no, it’s not her blood. It’s my husbands. My little girl was in front of me sobbing, clinging to me for dear life as I began to sob uncontrollably to.
Sobbing with delight
I want to be sobbing with delight, so happy that I just can’t hold it back
For the first time I am able to decide my path, my next steps, my time
how am I going to use it?
I will not obsess over how much money or what I haven’t done.
I will strive toward creating my own happiness by creating me.
She was sobbing but also the trees around here were sobbing. After the rain and cold for the past week, the water collected in the tree tops was still falling. It sounded like the rain had returned but it was the noise of the water falling, and the fine mist turned the sunlight into rainbows deep in the forest.
Help me, I’m sobbing.
I don’t know why, but I am.
No one cares enough to see
my pain; true, dark, hateful pain.
But in the end,
it won’t matter..
Will it?
Hands clenched. He shudders as he falls back against the cold, gray stone of the castle walls. His short nails dig into his palms which are wrapped in ripped bandages covered in dirt. Hair falls into his eyes. He doesn’t seem to notice. The mask that has hidden his face for years falls around his neck. He can’t bring himself to care. There’s no point anymore. She’s gone. And with her she took his light, took his reason to try. Tears slide down his cheeks as he sobs, silent, but heaving in place.
Sobbing, which always reminds me of sopping. Like, sopping wet, or sopping up a spill. my eyes are sopping, so they drip. but i use my hankie to sop up my sobs.
My heart was beating out of my chest. There was a numbness spreading throughout my body. I was slowly shutting down. Why do I get this way? I’m sobbing at the mere thought of your name.
I was sobbing uncontrollably, shaking, unable to move. What is wrong with me? Why does your name keep going through my head ? I don’t want to feel like this. I don’t want to miss you
The ghosts’ sobbing was getting on my nerves. They were twins, toddlers, who should have lived longer. I felt badly for their parents, sometimes even for them. Life isn’t fair. But that wasn’t my problem.
I followed Eli out of the gymnasium and found him crying against the fence that separated the parking lot from the school. At first, all I could do was listen to him, his sobbing only loud enough for me to hear once I got closer, each wheeze and hiccup like he was emitting another ounce of pain from his body. By the time I sat down next to him, he had quieted somewhat, wiping his eyes with the corner of his jacket.
I’m not sobbing over impossible sex, but think about it late at night, and it is tragic. Tragic how you can see a film of a man from another era, and he only existed at a time you didn’t exist, and yet you can feel attracted to him, you can say that you would do it.
sobbing. she wasnt sobbing. its always about she, isn’t it. she wasn’t sobbing when i found her. she had her sunglasses over her face, containing her frustration and self-pitying. She said the city made her feel like such a little child and so helpless. 7 years in this stupid place and she still gets so lost. i understand. how brave she is to let herself be so
Dark, empty place, lonely, red falling down my arm. I don’t want to be alone but I don’t want to see anyone either. Tears falling down my cheeks, a void in my chest. Why does it hurt so badly? I wish I could feel nothing at all and then I regret it. I am alone and things will never get better. This empty feeling will never go away.
She sat on the stairway sobbing her heart out for a few hours. And it felt good. It felt good to finally get it all out of her system. She was tired of always pretending that she’s okay and that she can go on. For the first time ever she admitted to herself that there are things she can’t do things she doesn’t want to do and things she doesn’t have enough energy for. And for the first time in a long time she was happy. Happy that she could finally let go, happy to realize that it’s not only the ones around her that matter, that it’s not her job to please everyone. Because after many long years she finally realized that no matter how hard she tries they will never be pleased with her and they will always want more. So she decided to stop trying to please everyone and try to find the things that would make her happy. That night she realized that the only person who had truly been there for her through thick and thin was her own self. And it was finally time for her to show some well deserved kindness to herself, to live and to rediscover all the little joys of life.
The tears that poured from her eyes were ever present. The statue’s contorted, horrified face was forever sobbing, water forever pouring from her tired, sad eyes. Who had done this to her? Who wounded this woman to the point of perpetual tears?
*sounds of gross sobbing*
The tears that poured from her eyes were ever present. The statue’s contorted, horrified face was forever sobbing, water forever pouring from her tired, sad eyes. Who had done this to her? Who wounded this woman to the point of perpetual tears?
I came across my mother sobbing in the kitchen. i hadn’t seen her cry, ever, and now here she was, weeping, not breathing, unleashed.
tears running down my face, I was seeing him for the last time. he was gone, he was DEAD, he was my life. I was sobbing, the only thing I could do now since that my life was taken away from me…
Oh, it’s been awhile since I had a good sob. I let tears well, but then I think of salt conservation and the feeling fades away. 90 seconds. That’s the supposed response time of any given emotionally driven biological reaction. Or think of it as you will, perhaps you are considering the triggers of your own brand of emotional circuitry. After 90 seconds you decide whether or not to explore those feelings in depth, fan the flames or dry the tears, whether it is to encourage or stifle the grieving or anger or etc, etc, etc. I wonder if this holds true when it comes to surges of love, most likely. Most likely. A sudden change of heart based of how others make you feel, isn’t that the rub? There’s a science to it all. It only requires thought beyond the act of laughing or sobbing. The intellectuals postulate this is why the Western way of tragedy and comedy seem super dominant and so catching, whether it’s like a thought plague or just a simple idea. The narrative arcs always culminate in distinct point, and after the height, the finale: bing-bang-boom, draw the curtains folks we have our story. Not so in other cultures where there are forms going on where the journey is extended on a liner plane where scenes like screen change, falling cherry blossom forms that are evolving right along side the “Western” way of thought. Think of the ways you will perish for nothing. That should get you sobbing. As all the good dramatists know.
Cam tried to ignore everything. She tried to ignore the incessant sobbing in the background, the way Dustin’s mom had her lips pinched closed, the way Dustin was sitting, stone face, right next to her.
Ellie draped her arms over Cam’s shoulder. “I’m so sorry, Cam.”
Yeah, Cam thought, me too.
good is the god i refer to. gladly bad too. so what is left, substracting gladly from gladly?
It will control you if you don’t do something about it.
She felt the sadness crawling inside her creeping every inch of her limbs until she collapsed knees down on the pavement and gushed out all the emotions she was suppressing all this time. It’s been a year. It’s been a f*cking year. The longest year she had to pretend and convince herself that she’s whole, that her fragmented self somehow would hold itself until time heals all wounds and does its job done, until–in some pipe dream–he returns back from the grave.
Destiny tried not to roll her eyes as her sister did ‘the thing’. They all knew it was coming. First her lip would quiver and then her eyes would take on this Bambi glassy-eyed quality that only the seasoned observer could fend off. Luckily, her father was one of them. After being denied permission to stay out past curfew, her sister predictably crumbled into hysterics. Destiny and her father exchanged a knowing look, and she held in a giggle as he offered the melodramatic sobbing mess on the floor a few tissues.
sobbing. every tear has its own chemical reaction that forms into what we call emotions.
She was sitting on bench, alone, in the park. Tears were running down her face, eyes were getting swollen.
How can this happen to her? She was PhD holder
She dropped her pizza.
crying in a puddle wich gets fuller and fuller. cascades of tears pour from my eyes, some being choked back. its quite fun. wheeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeee!
To weap and heal during different situations. It is a former of cleansing to the soul.
She could feel the sadness moving through her body like a dump truck, barreling out at the least opportune moments and making itself known. She tried to stop it, but the noise just got louder and louder until she was sure it would swallow her up. She pulled out her phone. Hitting Tricia’s name, she said a silent prayer that her sister would pick up.
I don’t remember last time I was sobbing. I have always felt very uncomfortable sobbing myself or around people who are sobbing. It is a strong emotional expression and strong emotional reactions make me feel powerless, I feel like I just can wait.
She couldn’t stop. Her sobbing filled the air.
Uneasily he pressed his hands onto his ears. He couldn’t stand her crying.
She sobbed as she walked out of the class. Finally she understood everything that had gone wrong with her life, it was not her fault that she felt different, she was different and the New Way people had taken hold of her mind and showed her how exciting her life could be. He watched her walk across the carpark and turned to his co-lecturer “Good night tonight, we made 8 of them sob and I think we’ll convert at least 3 into slaves of the order. Especially that one walking across the carpark and when we do, I want her for my personal slave”.
he doesn’t even know how it happened, how the stars above had managed to fall into such a horrendous place for this to have happened. he doesn’t even know how to go about mourning. he’s only ever known quiet and grey and cold. he doesn’t even know he’s sobbing.
You are so sobbing in work. That you don’t do a good work.
I do it best in the shower where no one can hear me. In my car too. I usually need a sad song to come on to have permission to start. I can turn it off on a dime, too. I don’t give myself permission very often, but when it do it is heart-wrenching sobs.
I woke in the middle of the night to my little girl sobbing. I ran to her, almost tripping over the dead body. I crouched down beside her, looking at her blood stained t-shirt. Wait, no, it’s not her blood. It’s my husbands. My little girl was in front of me sobbing, clinging to me for dear life as I began to sob uncontrollably to.
My heart is sobbing. For the life it feels has lost meaning.
Sobbing with delight
I want to be sobbing with delight, so happy that I just can’t hold it back
For the first time I am able to decide my path, my next steps, my time
how am I going to use it?
I will not obsess over how much money or what I haven’t done.
I will strive toward creating my own happiness by creating me.
She was sobbing but also the trees around here were sobbing. After the rain and cold for the past week, the water collected in the tree tops was still falling. It sounded like the rain had returned but it was the noise of the water falling, and the fine mist turned the sunlight into rainbows deep in the forest.
Help me, I’m sobbing.
I don’t know why, but I am.
No one cares enough to see
my pain; true, dark, hateful pain.
But in the end,
it won’t matter..
Will it?
I lay here sobbing,
My heart crying out.
Why does no one hear me
When I try to shout?
Can you feel my pain,
I think I’m going insane.
Please, help me.
Hands clenched. He shudders as he falls back against the cold, gray stone of the castle walls. His short nails dig into his palms which are wrapped in ripped bandages covered in dirt. Hair falls into his eyes. He doesn’t seem to notice. The mask that has hidden his face for years falls around his neck. He can’t bring himself to care. There’s no point anymore. She’s gone. And with her she took his light, took his reason to try. Tears slide down his cheeks as he sobs, silent, but heaving in place.
Sobbing, which always reminds me of sopping. Like, sopping wet, or sopping up a spill. my eyes are sopping, so they drip. but i use my hankie to sop up my sobs.
My heart was beating out of my chest. There was a numbness spreading throughout my body. I was slowly shutting down. Why do I get this way? I’m sobbing at the mere thought of your name.
I was sobbing uncontrollably, shaking, unable to move. What is wrong with me? Why does your name keep going through my head ? I don’t want to feel like this. I don’t want to miss you
The ghosts’ sobbing was getting on my nerves. They were twins, toddlers, who should have lived longer. I felt badly for their parents, sometimes even for them. Life isn’t fair. But that wasn’t my problem.
Gary had spent the last half hour sobbing, after getting the fateful phone call. It was true. His dad was dead.
I followed Eli out of the gymnasium and found him crying against the fence that separated the parking lot from the school. At first, all I could do was listen to him, his sobbing only loud enough for me to hear once I got closer, each wheeze and hiccup like he was emitting another ounce of pain from his body. By the time I sat down next to him, he had quieted somewhat, wiping his eyes with the corner of his jacket.
I’m not sobbing over impossible sex, but think about it late at night, and it is tragic. Tragic how you can see a film of a man from another era, and he only existed at a time you didn’t exist, and yet you can feel attracted to him, you can say that you would do it.
I always thought I’d be sobbing if – when – the relationship ended, but when it happened, all I felt was relief.
sobbing. she wasnt sobbing. its always about she, isn’t it. she wasn’t sobbing when i found her. she had her sunglasses over her face, containing her frustration and self-pitying. She said the city made her feel like such a little child and so helpless. 7 years in this stupid place and she still gets so lost. i understand. how brave she is to let herself be so