For some reason, the despair that's welling up in me is transforming into white-hot rage. I feel it working its way up from my toes, winding around my legs, and burrowing into the pit of my stomach. It spears its razor-sharp tendrils through the pieces of my broken heart. It's crippling, and devastating, and unrelenting. I have only one choice to survive this; I turn that rage outward.
And now, as I'm lying alone in my own bed, I keep thinking about writhing against him last night, naked and vulnerable. Even after we'd both risen and fallen, peaked and plummeted, even after Marcus was physically shrinking from inside me, I couldn't stop clutching, crying, trying. Trying to pull him deeper, deeper, deeper within.Trying to make him more a part of me than I am myself.
No wheelchair can support damaged self-esteem until it learns to stand upright. No cane can help emotions limp along until they can walk. A cast or brace can't protect a vulnerable spirit, and not even the strongest painkiller can stop the ache cause by a failed relationship. No, the only way a broken heart mends itself is with stitches of time and the sticky tape of hastily rearranged dreams.
Why?” I asked, confused. Why did he care?“Why what?”“Why was he having a panic attack?”She stared at me with her eyes wide before she leaned in. “Lila…because he thought he’d lost you; he thought you were dead.”“He didn’t have me to lose.” My breathing picked up as the emotional pain tightened my chest. “He threw me away.
I wouldn't have been sent back to help you," Tristan continued. "I wouldn't have been made an angel if it weren't important that you live, Ivy. I want you to be mine" -Ivy could hear the pain in his voice- "but you're not.""I am!" she cried out loud."We're on different sides of a river," he said, "and it's a river that neither of us can cross. You were meant for somebody else.
Morning breath here. ‘A dirty mouth you say,’ clean it up with Orbit.” Maya chuckled. “Unless you have gum, I’m not letting you near me.” She reached for a pillow and plopped it over her face. “Ha-ha! Good one. No gum on me, but I’ll settle for kissing your belly.” Alex whisked her pajama top up and knelt down to kiss the roundest part of her tummy.
All at once it was just too much, and Harvey felt something about to snap. He drew back into the shadowy side of the doorway, out of site. Then he slid down the wall to the ground and put his palm over his mouth to hold in his breath and his feelings both. He'd forced in more air then he could hold, and his lungs were burning. More importantly, his heart hurt... He wished he hadn't eavesdropped.
The brain is an incredible multitasker. At the same time that it’s piercing itself with superheated needles of anguish, it’s ruthlessly making plans, contingencies, plotting out a future, giving zero fucks whether it’ll ever see it. On the day I die, it’ll be calculating what to have for dinner as it bombards itself with pain signals from my amputated legs or my clocked-out heart.
Being heartbroken doesn’t mean you stop feeling. Just the opposite — it means you feel it all more. With your heart in fragments, every sensation is sharper, every emotion more acute. Your feelings are enhanced, like a blind man with an impeccable sense of smell, or a deaf woman whose eyes can perceive things a normal person would never recognize. The brokenhearted are the best empaths of all.
It's not the loving that hurts this girl; it's the understanding of it for what it is, that it will never be returned in the same way, that threatens to destroy her. But to unload the words - "I love you" - on an innocent party who didn't ask for it, to reach across the dark space and touch him - it's like the world she knows could end if she dared speak these words, dared make such a move.
I still wake longing for your touchSkin open wound rawbecause I was told that's the only way to heal.I couldn't tame youyou weren't meant for domesticationmeant to roam freebut I still rememberthe first time you said "I love you"a whisper barely audibleafraid of choking on your wordsor mineyou preferred me voicelessblank stare submissiveswallowing back years of lost timewaiting for you to change.
I love you in my very own way.Like a stone loves the mosses around itLike a sea loves the pebbles in itLike a coincidence...Taking you as the way you are,With all the bruises, scars and broken parts all around you and your heart.I love you in my very own wayBy throwing the stone, the mosses, the sea and the pebbles to your headLike i want to kill you.Just because of envying the love That my heart spend on you.
il étouffe - le monde se couche sur lui - et l’étouffe - il est prisonnier - coincé par ses promesses …on lui demande des comptes …En face de lui …une machine à compter - une machine à écrire des lettres d’amour - une machine à souffrir - le saisit …s’accroche à lui …Pierre dis-moi la vérité
My heart didn’t break into a thousand pieces after he left. Instead, I realized all the things he didn’t do. He didn’t want to hear my stories. He didn’t ask me questions. He didn’t smile when I was talking to him. He didn’t hug me out of the blue to make me feel good. His hugs were always a preamble to something else and after he was gone, I wondered if he ever knew me at all.
A sharp pain in her chest became more intoxicating with each breath she took. There it was. The reason she had forced herself to keep her distance from love. Why she had given up on trusting someone not to hurt her. Because a broken heart, no matter how figurative, was an unbearable pain to endure. And sometimes, no matter how much you want to be with someone, there’s never a guarantee that they want you back.
