Quotes About Numbness

his senses blunted by a permanent awareness of loss

He had yet to discover what destroyed that desire. But he did not dwell on it. He thought rather of whatever had happened to the curiosity he used to feel. Nothing, nothing, interested him now. Not himself, not other people. Only in drink was there some break, some floodlight, and when that closed, there was oblivion.

I wanted to turn everything off, too. Just press a button — click — and shut myself down. Turn off my heart, turn off my mind, turn off my body — just lie there, senseless, like a dormant tree in winter, waiting for the spring to return.

With each deep, measured breath, she imagined that various parts of her body were slowly going numb, from her fingers to her hand to her wrist to her elbow to her shoulder, until she was as close to dead as she could be. It was an old Fang family technique employed before doing something disastrous. You pretended to be dead and when you came out of it, nothing, no matter how dire, seemed important.

Maybe this is another way to think about original sin—the ingrained lure of the possibility of going numb, a habit of acquiescence to it.

She still felt shell-shocked by all of it, numb. Beneath the numbness, though, was a raw and terrible anger that was unlike anything she'd felt before. She had so little experience with genuine anger that it scared her. She actually worried that if she started screaming, she'd never stop.

She used to tell me that she couldn't feel the sunlight anymore, not even when she was standing in it, not even when it was hot on her cheeks

Maybe I'm drunk right now, even though I don't remember drinking anything. When I'm drunk, I say things without thinking. Drinking numbs you from your ability to reason. It makes you forget your own character and become a crazy. Maybe I am a crazy now; I'm going through so much chaos these days that reality is hard to grasp.

Sad people are too sad to do anything but drink brandy and sleep all day.

I want someone to pinch me so I can feel something, anything. I'm sick of this numbness, of feeling so alone and outside of everything, but I know it's too dangerous to wake up." —Ruth Mendenberg

and Lynn is dead inside, like a corpse. She Instagrams methodically, clinically, as if she's gathering evidence for defense, like her entire life is dedicated to proving that she has a life.

In between, for five or ten minutes at a stretch, the real version, tense and dishonest and uncertain. I rarely allowed her to emerge for long. Work—all that productive, effective, focused work—kept her distracted and submerged all day. And drink—anesthetizing and constant—kept her too numb to feel at night.

My only intent was to feel better—which is to say, not to feel at all.

dressed in blue-and-orange and red-and-white. "What is this?" she asked numbly. "On the screen?" "It's the Iron Bowl from 'thirteen. Auburn–'Bama. Auburn wins with a one-hundred-and-nine-yard kick back run. War Damn Eagle.

There is such a thing as anesthesia of pain, engendered by pain too exquisite to be borne.

And some cease feeling Even themselves or for themselves. Dullness best solves The tease and doubt of shelling

My mind is done for the night, shorted out; there's nothing left but a dial tone.

She could not mourn. She could no longer weep grasping the essence of annihilation, she wished only to cease, to be no more, as if sunk in some profound sleep devoid of wakening.

You've faced horrors in these past weeks... I don't know which is worse. The terror you feel the first time you witness such things, or the numbness that comes after it starts to become ordinary.

I wanted to cry, but the tears did not come.

When a man cannot find meaning, he numbs himself with pleasure.

The brief answer is that I have become inured without becoming indifferent.

My heart died a while back. [Eragon]

Tenho um novo nome para a dor. - Qual é? - A Aniquiladora. Porque, quando estamos em sofrimento, nada mais pode existir. Nem o pensamento. Nem o sentimento. Apenas o impulso no sentido de fugirmos da dor. Quando é suficientemente forte, a Aniquiladora despoja-nos de tudo o que faz de nós o que somos, até sermos reduzidos a criaturas inferiores ao animais, criaturas com um só desejo e um só objectivo: a fuga.