So Hurt Quotes
Forgiveness is a personal process that doesn’t depend on us having direct contact with the people who have hurt us.
I am such a classic fool, aren’t I?” “No, not a fool. Just in love, ” “It’s all the same.”“No, it’s not.
What I cannot tough, remains a memory, I am blinded by an imagined light. A remembrance of what can never be
What I cannot touch, remains a memory. I am blinded by an imagined light. A remembrance of what can never be.
Sometimes all you need is someone who is willing to listen to you without advising or judging you.
It hurt when someone lies to you, and you know that. But you believe him instead because you love him.
Their love for me was both a myth and a torture and so I wrecked everything. I hurt them, and I left them hurting.
There are people that damage you for life. The day they walked into your life will forever be a turning point you will use to label and count your years with... Your own BC and AD.
People Ignore, People Hurt, People Confuse. But, Nature Talks, Nature Heals, Nature Answers.
A person does not have to be beautiful for you to find them beautiful. That's what love is all about.
Some people are as angry as they seem to be only because it's the safest place to hide from more pain.
Though I exist in the realms of day and night, I'm only truly alive in the moments between.
And once the ripples still and the water returns to its unwavering calm, even the pebble that broke its surface will be forgotten. And the world will go on.
I was lost in the moments I decided to keep. To be awake in a dreamless sleep. And in that place between dream and sleep, I planted some more things I would like to keep.
She's an array of undiscovered words, of feeling beyond my threshold. I'm just a man, trying to hold himself together in her wake.
It was her eyes. Soft, meadow-shade eyes with frostbitten edges. Every glance casually held gossamer infinity. Every stare revealed inky black abyss with a hint of divinity.
She was carmine shadows reflecting from my crimson words. Every pulse sent a velvet ripple through the shade. Every breath, a scarlet pause.
With ravenous passion and reckless ambition he forged his thoughts into words, obsessed with the notion that dying would not be the last thing he would do.
He gave up. No hint of ember behind his eyes nor life in his breath. He snipped the last, overstretched strand of hope, and nicked the strand of life by mistake. He did it with his hands.
She speaks in heartbeats and the rises of her chest, words forever seared in thoughts that will never rest.
He sang softly, less with words and more with thought. She cradled his head, stitching together his fragmented heart.
Adventures kept hidden, words kept silent. You became my greatest secret. And when you left, no one knew the source of the pain I felt. No one knew you existed, except my writhing heart.
That last bit of hope always lingered as a stubborn thread. Every time I would try to cut it I would feel it... a pulse. My pulse. My blood is hope.
I realized the world around me was fragmented and broken... I had to be gentle enough not to scrape against the jagged pieces. I would not be cut today.
She is beyond any mortal structure of words, yet she inspires the effort to try anyway.
That's what really broke me, she was better than any fantasy I could hope to imagine. I've spent my life creating, yet she was pristine the likes of which I could never fashion.
She was exactly right and wrong in the perfect sort of way. This kiss would be the first of many, she was the type of girl I would desperately fight for to stay.
She was the half-whispers born from half-thoughts, the half-breaths of dying half-hearts.
You are whole today, looking back at fragments of the past. Such a hollow foundation for such a powerful person.
All my past heartache and pain suddenly made sense. That was who I would not be to the person who deserves the best of me.
It was the end for something. It was the beginning for another. But in reality it just fell in the middle. In that confusing moment of time between my birth and my death.
I always thought time was the most valuable currency, but I realized the people we spent our time on and loved us back, that love held even more meaning to me.
I was burdened with an ever-growing heart on the verge of decay. To save myself, I had to give many pieces of my love away. I hope I can give it all to someone, someday.
It was a slow fall, through warm experiences and good laughs. It didn't even feel like love until I got to the end. Even then, it was not the hard surface of rock, but the scorching embrace of more.
I wanted to know every story behind the scars on her curves. I wanted to decipher the whispers hidden beneath her every breath. I wanted to unravel her with my hands.
They surrounded me, bare me. Their fingers like tentacles and their desires like knives. Their fingers traced my secrets and their desires carved my skin.
Inside, my soul is curled tightly bearing the burden of massive sins from another life. And my eyes look far at the hell around me... a sharp grin tugs at the corner of my lips.
And in my novels I live many lives. Substitutes of spontaneity to replace a dreary reality. How I live for those inky black words and kaleidoscope colored experiences.
I wear my past around my shoulders as a fine, but worn, cloak. Don't be fooled by my cloak's appearance, I have a three piece underneath.
I was the wings that kept her aloft, while the churning sea of reality nipped at her feet. I kept her from drowning, but I still felt bad, that her toes had to experience such dreadful cold.
Everyone is their own, though they are so alone. They all sit on their imagined thrones, made only of their own bones. Ego and pride make exquisite delusional cushions.