forlorn

It takes courage and strength to be sensitive to things and even more strength and courage to own up to it or be vocal about it. Robots, the only things with a perfect lack of emotional capacity, are easily controlled, and I suddenly realized that__ why the military often trains people to suppress their emotions. Unfortunately for them, humans aren't machines. We feel, we love, we cry, we despair, and we rejoice. Anyone who__ ever tried to convince me not to feel is someone I shouldn__ have trusted. The only reason you should shut off your emotions and emulate a robot is if you're doing horrible things. How fatal my decisions have been. How many people would be loving, rejoicing, and feeling right now rather than crying indefinitely in the depths of the afterlife? If only I__ figured this out sooner.

The car housed a hysterical bumper sticker: Save the Planet, and I permitted a moment of contemplation to truly bask in this thought. Save the planet? What a joke. Save the planet from what? From ourselves? And save it for what? For ourselves? It was a kind of perpetual stupidity in a tug-of-war battle over trivial matters. Only imbeciles see things in black and white: liberal or conservative, yes or no, this or that. Those in power laugh at those people in their morally inverted shades of grey, basking in the labels they've created so the people are easier to control.

To say she is only a woman is to say a violin is a piece of wood with strings, and Dante is mere ink printed on paper.

We are sometimes dragged into a pit of unhappiness by someone else__ opinion that we do not look happy.

We are forlorn like children, and experienced like old men, we are crude and sorrowful and superficial__ believe we are lost.

Geraldine keeps her eyes trained on him as she slowly reaches into her purse, wrapping her fingers around her gun. __Callo, I__ so sorry that your life ended up this way,_ she sighs as she gets out of her side of the car, her feet burning from the cold as her high heels sink into the fallen snow. __ren__ you scared?_____ you, Geraldine_ I fell into the same trap as you, anyway,_ Callo answers. His large eyes are shining with tears, but he doesn__ seem afraid in the least. __The dead don__ feel anything, you know_ not even guilt or regret. So, what is there to be afraid of?

When relationships lose their pitch through lack of interest and become stale or unbearable through enduring stealthy backbiting, the emotional house of cards is under attack. A painstaking reshuffle, however, may brand a new choice of life and create energy for positive thinking, whereas remaining bogged down in dispiriting situations and staying clogged up with immaterial hassle may only spawn forlorn deadlocks.. ("Mes cliques et mes claques")

It is when I am cold, alone, bitterly forlorn and shuttered from all hope that you will see who I truly am. And my goal is that at those most precarious of moments, what you will see is Jesus holding you through my tears.

It was simpler just to keep things simple.

It's funny. That feeling of home. It's so temporary, like bathwater: the warmth eventually grows cold.

A bodyguard for a pretty socialite, I was moving up in the world. Like all idiots I naturally assumed she was pretty because she was rich. You can buy anything with money, even people, even... beauty.

If I can draw the slightest smile across a single face obliterated by pain, in that act I will have begun to understand the power of an ordinary human being to perform the seemingly impossible in the life of another human being. And how can that experience do anything less than drive me to try and make the world smile.