Quotes About Pain

And even though people try to pretend that pain doesn't do anything to them, none of us can really handle it. Everything bad we do in our life is because of pain of some kind.

Love only brought me lonliness and horror.

I've been alone my whole life, I can't do it anymore.

I sleep during the day. I still dream about drinking and drugs. Sometimes I wake to a hang-over, sometimes I wake to a trickle of blood from my nose, sometimes I wake scared and shaking. I read, go to museums and visit Lilly in the afternoon. Sometimes I read to her, sometimes I talk to her, sometimes I just sit and remember the times, remember the times, remember the times. (James Frey, pg.119)

There is, though, nothing that prepares us for the worst things in our life. There is nothing you can do to stop the shock, or buffer the pain.

I felt like I had lost something. But not something silly, like my keys or my gum; more like my arm or my foot, something that really mattered. Like something that I could live without, but would make life much harder if it were missing. And life is hard enough. Life is hard enough with everything we're given.

Were it up to me, I would be with Lilly. Were it up to me I would be asleep in her arms. She's dead, in a cooler in some fucking morgue, and i'll never sleep in her arms again. The thought of it makes me sick, and it makes me want to join her. The rose will help me. It is time to start the killing. Time to fucking start. (James Frey, pg.39)

On the left side of my cheek a row of crusted scabbed stitches hold a deep 1 inch-long gash together. My nose is bent and swollen beneath its bandage and red lines streak from my nostrils. There are black and yellow bruises beneath both eyes, there is blood both wet and dry everywhere. (James Frey)

She talks of the desertion. How each time it broke her heart. How with each break it became harder to heal.

I always felt I had a hole in my heart, this big black hole that made me feel lonely and empty and worthless. I tried to fill it, everybody tries in some way, and it just got bigger and bigger.

As we stand to leave, I look across the dining hall and through the glass at Lilly. She is smiling at me and the smile hurts.

I hate myself. I hate myself so much that I can't look myself in the eye. I hate myself so much that suicide seems like a reasonable option.

I can feel blood dripping from the wounds on my face and I can feel my heart beating and I can feel the weight of my life beginning to drop and I realize why dawn is called mourning.

I start to cry. Tears begin running down my face and quiet sobs escape me. I don't know what I'm doing and I don't know how I'm here and I don't know how things ever got this bad. I try to find answers but they aren't there. I'm too fucked up to have answers. I'm too fucked up for anything

The pain is immense, but I need it because it keeps me from going insane.

I could be hurt by something other than myself.

Because I'll never be any better. I'll never be any more normal and I'll never make the pain go away. Never ever ever.

My body is falling apart and my mind fell apart a long time ago.

The Alcoholic's Dilemma. We drink because we feel pain. The drinking kills the pain. When the drink wears off we feel more pain, so we drink more to kill it, which makes us feel more, so we drink more. And thus it goes until you either stop or die. But stopping hurts too much. And so. And so. I go.

I'm in the camp that needs to discover and take risks, sometimes it's with the promise of something special and new, sometimes it's to stay awake, either way it's much more stressful with all the uncertainty but worth the pain in the end.

I've been through heartbreak and uncertainty and giddy crushes and everything. We all have.

You go through pain. You feel uncomfortable, uncomfortable, uncomfortable until you change. I acquired a different outlook.

Bodily discomfort and emotional fear and attachment make the dying uncomfortable and fearful. So, to help those dying people, I think modern medical science has a lot of facilities to reduce pain, or perhaps not to reduce pain, but not to experience pain.

The process of getting conscious, for me, was a very, very uncomfortable, disturbing, and sometimes physically painful process. And so that's the standard to which I write, because it was what I've experienced over my time.