I Am So Hurt Inside Quotes & Sayings

Inside our heads there is a space which is completely blank. It holds no memories and has no thoughts. Antoinette wanted to find that place for once there, the world no longer has the power to hurt. She wanted to curl up in the cocoon of her bedding until that time came and never have to face reality again. — Toni Maguire

We, hurt by ourselves, keen
to be hurters and keen
to be hurt back deep inside.
We, like weapons laid
beside anger asleep. — Rainer Maria Rilke

Someday we will forget the hardship, and the pain its cause us; we will realise, hurt is not the end. lessons appear to teach us strength, we learn happiness is an inside job and to cure our insanity we must not fear what is to come, but believe in what we've been taught. — Nikki Rowe

Raistlin laughed until he thought he might have hurt something inside him. The laughter felt good. For a time, it banished the darkness. — Anonymous

(His) sadness grew; it became a rock inside him, pulling him down. He carried the sadness everywhere, morning, noon, and night. It hurt to breathe. — Kevin Henkes

At Least I Am Free

At last I am free
I can hardly see in front of me
I can hardly see in front of me

And now love please listen
To what I say
I can't go on living life this way
I've tried and I've tried
To make you see
You call this love
All this lying, my friend, it just can't be

At last I am free
I can hardly see in front of me
I can hardly see in front of me

And now love, please hold me
Come closer, my dear
It feels so good, just having you near
But who am I fooling
When I know it's not real?
I can't hide
All this hurt and pain inside I feel — Elisabeth Fraser

There is so much love in us all, but often we are too shy to express our love, and keep it bottled up inside us. We must learn to love, to love until it hurts, and we will know how to accept love. — Mother Teresa

Um, because you're loopier than Flacky McPsycho, Mayor of Crazytown?"
"My databases show no record of this Crazytown of which you speak. A brain the size of an entire city burns inside me. My intelligence quotient is beyond the human scale. I would prefer if you did not refer to me in such a fashion."
"Oh, poor baby. Did I hurt the mass-murdering psychopathic artificial intelligence's feelings? — Amie Kaufman

No one can ever use his heart to listen or touch or feel or see or smell. It's just a lump of muscle pumping mechanically inside your ribs. It has no will and no ability to do anything but go on pumping until it gives up and withers away or is choked by some disease. Your spinal cord, on the other hand, feels. The central nervous system pours out from the spinal cord, and with it one feels pain. Pain is the most trustworthy sensation a human being can know because it teaches us what hurts. With the spinal cord, one can hear what will hurt, smell the sting of suffering, taste it, feel it, and see the world with new eyes. I learned a long time ago not to follow my heart, the hunk of meat flexing in the chest. I trust the tube locked up in a column of bone, the tube that shows me what pain is. — Joshua S. Porter

Her cheeks turned a deep shade of peach. A pang of jealousy struck me deep inside, and I flopped into my chair. The others joined me at the table. Didn't Montgomery remember last night, during the storm, running his fingers down the bare skin of my back? I did. I could barely think about anything else. Edward sat across from me, deep in his own thoughts. His hands still bore the scratches from our escape. I wondered if his ribs still hurt him. I absently touched my own, remembering the feel of his hands holding me there, that night behind the waterfall. — Megan Shepherd

Your words are powerful containers, carrying blessings or curses depending on what is inside of you. If you harbour bitterness in you, you will speak spitefully and create hurt and hatred in those you speak with. If there is love inside of you, you will release pleasant and caring words that create appreciation, gratitude and warmth in those around you. — Archibald Marwizi

So if I asked you 'Do you love me' then you'll lie and answer 'Yes' but deep inside you don't really love me, and I'll start believing you because you answered YES when it was supposed to be a NO. And then in the end, I'll end up getting hurt because you lied because you thought I wanted that answer. — Bianca B. Bernardino

In any case, though, I believe that I have no been fair to you and that, as a result, I must have led you around in circles and hurt you deeply. In doing so, however, I have led myself around in circles and hurt myself just as deeply. I say this not as an excuse or means of self-justification but because it's true. If I have left a wound inside you, it is not just your wound, but mine as well. So please try not to hate me. I am a flawed human being - a far more flawed human being than you realize. Which is precisely why I do not want you to hate me. Because if you were to do that I would really go to pieces. I can't do what you can do: I can't slip inside my shell and wait for things to pass. I don't know for a fact that you are really like that, but sometimes you give me that impression. I often envy that in you, which may be why I led you around in circles so much. — Haruki Murakami

I truly believed, in that moment, that having a psychological illness was just as bad as being physically ill, maybe worse. When you're physically ill, people can see what's wrong; they can help you fix it. When something's wrong inside the mind, all doctors can do is guess, and people can't tell if you're sick. They don't believe you a lot of times, until they see the outward signs of your sickness. Maybe you're walking aimlessly on the street talking to yourself, or you hurt someone you love. That type of sickness is harder to define, harder to fix, and scary, because in the end, the sickness is you. — Rachel Van Dyken

Love is kisses and touches and all the little things that make your body flood with emotions such as need, want, protectiveness, jealousy, hurt, and anger. It can take your breath away, or smother you at times, and make you feel like you can't go on. Your heart may race a thousand miles per minute, then slow down, and then race again, just with a simple look. Love is deadly and can kill you from the inside out if you let it. It makes you do stupid, ridiculous things, and say senseless sappy words, or listen to silly love songs, jazz, or dance in the streets, or laugh, or smile. Love is a weapon, or a drug, and can drive a person mad. I know what love is ... — Lyra Parish

I don't struggle to forgive people. I find it quite easy to forgive people for the harms that they have inflicted on me. What I do find challenging is to forgive people for the harms they inflict on my daughters and family. So, I find it challenging when I see somebody else experience hurt. I also look at my children and family and then I realize, I don't stand inside their skin and that is for me a forgiveness practice I still need to engage in. — Desmond Tutu

It's like she was metal and I was a magnet, Roc. But at the same time it felt like someone had shoved an electric wire into my skin and was frying me from the inside. It hurt like hell. No, worse than hell, Roc. And yet, somehow across the distance, through the fence, over the mob of people, I felt a pull to her, even though I knew it would hurt me to be closer to her. I probably would have just let it go, chalked it up to male hormones, but then when she acted so strong, pushed that guy ... I don't know, since then I can't get her out of my mind. — David Estes

When the twilight of all my evenings reaches me, after a long dark day, my complicated thoughts suffocate inside all of my uncomplicated longings.

Evenings refuse to end. And the dawns that constantly swallow up my nights, always shows me an extremely long road I still need to tread, and discover.

And get hurt. — Khadija Rupa

This is real. So real I feel it everywhere, like a million tiny vibrations under my skin. This ... this urgency to protect you ... " My breath burst in and out, and my voice thickened with the messy, unfiltered truth. "It's a crazy need inside me, driving me to be near you, to watch over you, to undo the hurt I put in your eyes. I don't fucking know what it is, but I feel it now, spinning me around - around you - and knocking me way the fuck off track. — Pam Godwin

I raised two sons, and I know that even though they're bigger and stronger than I am, they're still little boys inside. They still cry, they still hurt. So whenever I write a male character, no matter how 'heroic' he may be, I think of my sons. And I remember that every man was once a little boy. — Tess Gerritsen

Everything I know, everything I put in my fiction, will hurt someone somewhere as surely as it will comfort and enlighten someone else. What then is my responsibility? What am I to restrain? What am I to fear and alter
my own nakedness or the grief of the reader? I want my stories to be so good they are unforgettable; to make my ideas live and my own terrors real for people I will never meet. It is a completely amoral writer's lust. If we begin to agree that some ideas are too dangerous, too bad to invite inside our heads, then we stop the storyteller completely. We silence everyone who would tell us something that might be painful in our vulnerable moments. — Dorothy Allison

My theory was that if I behaved like a confident, cheerful person, eventually I would buy it myself, and become that. I always had traces of strength somewhere inside me, it wasn't fake, it was just a way of summoning my courage to the fore and not letting any creeping self-doubt hinder my adventures. This method worked then, and it works now. I tell myself that I am the sort of person who can open a one-woman play in the West End, so I do. I am the sort of person who has several companies, so I do. I am the sort of person WHO WRITES A BOOK! So I do. It's the process of having faith in the self you don't quite know you are yet, if you see what I mean. Believing that you will find the strength, the means somehow, and trusting in that, although your legs are like jelly. You can still walk on them and you will find the bones as you walk. Yes, that's it. The further I walk, the stronger I become. So unlike the real lived life, where the further you walk, the more your hips hurt. — Dawn French

Something broke in me and left me with a nerve split in two. In the beginning the extremities linked to the cut hurt me so badly that I paled in pain and perplexity. However the split places gradually scarred over. Until coldly, I no longer hurt. I changed, without planning to. I used to look at you from my inside outward and from the inside of you, which because of love, I could guess. After the scarring I started to look at you from the outside in. And also to see myself from the outside in: I had transformed myself into a heap of facts and actions whose only root was in the domain of logic. At first I couldn't associate me with myself. Where am I? I wondered. And the one who answered was a stranger who told me coldly and categorically: you are yourself. — Clarice Lispector

Sometimes we want our bodies to do a better job of showing the things that hurt us, the stories we keep hidden inside of us. — Ava Dellaira

I fall down on my back and instantly feel the pain of my tail splitting in two. The two parts glow a bright green that fades to a dull white glow. I cannot believe my eyes. My black scales turn to skin the same color as my torso. I reach down and touch the space between them that never existed before. It is a moist opening, like a perpetual wound. I insert a finger. It doesn't hurt. It feels just like the inside of a clam. — Leza Cantoral

Yet as bad as she felt, it was nothing compared to the stark despair she saw in Rafferty's eyes. It was so total, and went so deep, that it made her forget her own hurt to see it. It was the look of a man who'd given up deep inside where it mattered most, and for Maggie, who was a survivor to her very toes, it was profoundly disturbing. — Caroline Cross

In a perverse way, I was glad for the stitches, glad it would show, that there would be scars. What was the point in just being hurt on the inside? It should bloody well show. — Janet Fitch

I didn't get to stop missing her. Ever. It was the thing that my life had handed me, and no matter how heavy it was, I was never going to be able to set it down. But that didn't mean I wasn't going to be okay. Or even happy. I couldn't imagine it yet exactly, but maybe a day would come when the hole inside me wouldn't ache quite so badly and I could think about her, and remember, and it would be all right. That day felt light-years away, but right at this moment I was standing on a tower in the middle of Tuscany and the sunrise was so beautiful that it hurt.

And that was something. — Jenna Evans Welch

And I remember it hurt that first time he touched me. Not because it was painful, but because it was everything but. It hurt from somewhere deep inside my gut that told me I would never get to have him, to keep him, or to feel the way I felt with his hands on me with anyone else for as long as I tried. Where — Kandi Steiner

I knew I wasn't alone. I haven't written like that since Bright Side was around. I always feel her in my heart these days, because that's where she lives. I walk around with her inside me every day. And it doesn't hurt anymore. But the presence I felt tonight wasn't internal. It was physical. Tangible. Like someone was in the room with me, feeding me. Little did I know, she was just on the other side of the door. Filling my soul. — Kim Holden

If you could offer me a guarantee, Ely, a guarantee that the hurt that makes my heart feel like a boulder sitting inside my chest, beatless, if I knew this hurt would eventually go away and I could feel hope again - for me, for you, for us - then maybe my lips could "unlock" now and we could get on with this. The End. — Rachel Cohn

But for now he was alone and hurt and broken on the ground, the man, gravely wounded. Worse, he knew himself a fool, knew himself a loser, knew himself too late, and defeated, ruined by his own hand, near to death.
It was the end and then this happened. The wound in his chest, red and burning, open like an eye, an ear, a mouth, began to glow.
It glowed and warmed until it embered him. Flowers closest to where he lay started to wilt in the heat of it. But inside the man, the heat changed into something else. The first thing he felt it become was courage and the next thing was desire.
They went through him, but with a roughness he'd never known. Then instead of in pain he was thirsty, but with a thirst he'd never known. The heat and the glow and the thirst combined and melted the man into someone he'd never been.
He heard a noise. It was the roar of water.
Up he got off the ground to go and sort himself out. — Ali Smith

Have you returned for me? Is this the last flash before starting anew? Will it hurt? Will it matter if it does? Was I kind enough? Did I love with more than fit inside me? — Tyler Knott Gregson

There's a bar like it in every town. It's dimly-lit and the drinkers, although they talk, don't address their words to one another and they don't listen, either. They just talk the hurt inside. It's a bar for the derelict and the unlucky and all of those people who have been temporarily flagged off the racetrack of life and into the pits.
It always does a brisk trade.
On this dawn the mourners sat ranged along the counter, each in his cloud of gloom, each certain that he was the most unfortunate individual in the whole world. — Terry Pratchett

Talking of being eaten by dogs, there's a dachshund at Brinkley who when you first meet him will give you the impression that he plans to convert you into a light snack between his regular meals. Pay no attention. It's all eyewash. His belligerent attitude is simply - "
Sound and fury signifying nothing, sir?"
That's it. Pure swank. A few civil words, and he will be grappling you ... What's the expression I've heard you use?"
Grappling me to his soul with hoops of steel, sir?"
In the first two minutes. He wouldn't hurt a fly, but he has to put up a front because his name's Poppet. One can readily appreciate that when a dog hears himself addressed day in and day out as Poppet, he feels he must throw his weight about. Is self-respect demands it."
Precisely, sir."
You'll like Poppet. Nice dog. Wears his ears inside out. Why do dachshunds wear their ears inside out?"
I could not say, sir."
Nor me. I've often wondered. — P.G. Wodehouse

Hurt but do not harm?" Zach asked. "What's the difference?"
"Hurt is a bruise on the outside." Nora sipped her mineral water delicately. "Harm is a bruise on the inside. If you're a masochist, pain feels like love to you. Not being hurt is what hurts. — Tiffany Reisz

Maybe superficial is exactly what I want right now. If you don't talk about anything that matters, no one can say anything that'll hurt you
and you don't have to talk about the things that are eating away at you from the inside. — Liz Kessler

She had not had a question like that in her mind before. It had made her feel lonely. She wanted to be alone, but not lonely. That was very different; that was something that ached and hurt dreadfully right inside one. It was what one dreaded most. It was what made one go to so many parties; and lately even the parties had seemed once or twice not to be a perfectly certain protection. Was it possible that loneliness had nothing to do with circumstances, but only with the way one met them? Perhaps, she had thought, she had better go to bed. She couldn't be very well. She — Elizabeth Von Arnim

The grief changes over time. You keep busy. Sometimes your mind even forgets the pain for a little while. But when someone you love dies, there will always be a hurt inside you, like a splinter, and when you give yourself over to thinking on it, the ache comes back. — Colleen Houck

Having a strong urge is like having a child throw a temper tantrum inside you, screaming "Hurt yourself!" But if you repeatedly ignore the urge's request and don't harm yourself, your brain will learn that urges don't work, just as a child learns that throwing a tantrum won't work. — Kim L. Gratz

The silences after his last gasp were sung together by a blackbird. I lay there, my eyes unable to close. His were unable to open. I listed the places where I hurt, and how much. My loins felt ripped. Something inside had torn. There were seven places on my body where he had sunk his fangs into my skin and bitten. He'd dug his nails into my neck, and twisted my head to one side, and clawed my face. I hadn't made a noise. He had made all the noise for both of us. Had it hurt him? — David Mitchell

when you betray to someone , first you betray to yourself, who speak somewhere inside you that you are a good human — Mohammed Zaki Ansari