Quotes About Emotional

There are a thousand ways to hurt someone you love that have nothing to do with physical violence.

There are things that can harm a lot more than physically.

It was like someone who is so used to being made fun of that they say the mean things first, try to make it their joke, so the bullies don't get a chance to cut them up. It works, in a way, but it means the person saying the words internalizes the message more, because they're the ones saying stupid, clumsy, fat, ugly—whatever the bullies might say.

I had myself under control again. I wasn't going to cry. I was glad. I hated to cry. It always made me feel so weak.

The great bad thing happens, and you become a ghost in your own life, and then you become flesh and blood and remake your life, but the ghosts of what happened don't go away completely. They wait for you in low moments, and then they wail at you, shaking their chains in your face and trying to strangle you with them.

Sometimes you just stayed numb, because anything else was not helpful. Sanity relied on numbness, sometimes.

You don't need cheering up. You need a good shaking.

He came to me then, wrapped his arms around me. I stayed stiff in his arms for a moment, and then I collapsed into his body. I clung to him. I let his strength and his nearness hold me. I let him hold me while I wept and screamed and wailed. I lost it completely, and Richard held me while I did it.

I said this with the exuberance of telling an infertile couple that they were having twins.

I open a paperclip and scratch it across the inside of my left wrist. Pitiful. If a suicide attempt is a cry for help, then what is this. A whimper, a peep? I draw little window cracks of blood, etching line after line until it stops hurting.

I had let down my shields, that was the problem. The crazy inside Dad had infected me, weakened me so that when Finn smiled, I'd been vulnerable. I'd dropped my shields and let myself pretend that somebody like Finn would want to be with somebody like me.

thoughts hidden there? If she can, what will she do? Call the cops? Send me to the nuthouse? Do I want her to? I just want to sleep. The whole point of not talking about it, of silencing the memory, is to make it go away. It won't. I'll need brain surgery to cut it out of my head. Maybe I should wait until David Petrakis is a doctor, let him do it.

It had become easier to lie about most things because it didn't hurt as much when he ignored me.

Did he rape my head, too?

I want to confess everything, hand over the guilt and mistake and anger to someone else.

The box opens and the razors slide out, whisper sweet. Used to be that my whole body was my canvas-hot cuts licking my ribs, ladder rungs climbing my arms, thick milkweed stalks shooting up my thighs.

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

scars may look stronger than unwounded skin, but they're not once broken, we're hurt again, or worse

I'm mad emotional. But my emotions are - I don't really get just like sad, I get hyper, and I be like mad, and I get hungry - that's like my main emotion.

Laugh, and the world laughs with you: Weep, and you weep alone. For the sad old earth must borrow its mirth, But has trouble enough of its own.

I can be dramatic. I can be funny. I can be sexy. I can be sad. I can be glad.

In terms of love, you're not in control and I hate that feeling. I seem to write a lot of sad songs because I'm a very tragic person. But there's always an element of humour at the end.

A marriage is no amusement but a solemn act, and generally a sad one.

Being on your own would be sad, sick and weird. I don't trust myself. I need that balance.