Quotes About Emotions

It was the most eloquent silence I ever heard.

Life was a battle, and Mother a tired and bitter captain

The whole point of not talking about it, of silencing the memory, is to make it go away.

Gracie's father was an engineer, her mother an accountant. I couldn't picture either one of them yelling or throwing things or having affairs. I could see my dad doing stuff like that. Trish sure did. But Dad carried a war in his skull, and Trish was a drunk. Gracie's parents didn't have anything like that to deal with, but their daughter was falling apart on the bathroom floor.

When you're alive, people can hurt you. It's easier to crawl into a bone cage or snowdrift of confusion. It's easier to lock everybody out. But it's a lie.

I used to dream about bringing a knife to therapy and slicing her into pork chop-sized pieces.

It is easier to floss with barbed wire than admit you like someone in middle school.

They were coming, on wings from far away, all the pictures and voices, smells, tastes, all the everything from the past was flying toward me as fast as it could.

Home was still hellish, afire with the painful realization that no matter how much I loved my parents my love could not fix them

Love messes you up and makes you do strange things

Não existe cura mágica, nem como fazer tudo desaparecer para sempre. Existem apenas pequenos passos adiante; um dia mais fácil, uma risada inesperada, um espelho que não importa mais.

She laid land mines in my skill that detonated weeks later.

There is a beast in my gut, I can hear it scraping away at the inside of my ribs.

Mr Freeman: [...] When people don't express themselves, they die one piece at a time. You'd be shocked at how many adults are really dead inside - walking through their days with no idea who they are, just waiting for a heart attack or cancer or a Mack truck to come along and finish the job. It's the saddest thing I know.

I hide in the bathroom until I know Heather's bus has left. The salt in my tears feels good when it stings my lips. I wash my face in the sink until there is nothing left of it, no eyes, no nose, no mouth. A slick nothing.

I know my head isn't screwed on straight. I want to leave, transfer, warp myself to another galaxy. I want to confess everything, hand over the guilt and mistake and anger to someone else. There is a beast in my gut, I can hear it scraping away at the inside of my ribs. Even if I dump the memory, it will stay with me, staining me.

My job is to nod or shake my head, to say "I know what you mean," when I don't, and "That is so unfair," when it isn't.

He says a million things without saying a word I have never head a more eloquent silence -Melinda

When we get off the bus on Valentine's Day, a girl with white-blond hair bursts into tears. 'I Love You, Anjela!' is spray-painted into the snowbank along the parking lot. I don't know if Angela is crying because she is happy or because her heart's desire can't spell. Her honey is waiting with a red rose. They kiss right there in front of everybody. Happy Valentine's Day.

I can grow. I look at my homely sketch. It doesn't need anything. Even through the river in my eyes I can see that. It isn't perfect and that makes it just right.

I sniff again and wipe my eyes on my arm. The bruises are vivid, but they will fade.

slowly I can't stand this bled into I can't stay here trickled through I should leave swelled into I want to leave rose into a tidal wave of I'm going

When Heather sees what I have done, she bursts into tears again, sobbing that it isn't my fault. My stomach is killing me. Her room isn't big enough for this much emotion. I leave without saying goodbye.

I get out of bed and take down the mirror. I put it in the back of my closet, facing the wall. OUR