arguing - quotes and descriptions to inspire creative writing
"Holy cow, Ingred, you can argue with me all day and night, I'm still going. All you are in this situation is a voice of fear when I'm telling you my dreams, the ideas that keep this crazy heart beating. So love me, back me, or shut up. I was born for this and I wish you could see that and be proud that I have the courage to do what's right."
Our voices rose above the sacred silence. A glance, touch, and one small comment stirred a hurricane of harsh and horsed insults. Our own Pandora boxes opened, sending each word full speed ahead to shatter our souls into a million pieces. His face brightened, just a tone lighter than my own crimson. This was no longer "He said, She said." Blood was bound to be spilled, feelings hurt. We were never that strong to being with, and now we'll never be as strong as we once were.
Arguing with you is so pointless, because your retort is based more in your own emotions than the quality or intention of my response... and so the best thing I can reply is that context is everything and you need to abandon these black and white opinions. There are many that build their persona on such dichotomies, on such hard "truths," yet the persona is false and it needs to crumble to let the soul take over. When that happens, you will be able to hear my voice and comprehend what I say. Until then, you need to confront your true self, your "man in the mirror."
I wanted to cry as rage filled my belly. I felt my ears getting hot. I glare at him then spat out "HOW DARE YOU?"
He sneers at me then laughs only adding fuel to my wrath.
"You think this is funny?" I snap.
He glares at me with hatred in his cruel dull eyes. "You are an extremely stupid girl. Aren't you?"
Our heated quarrel continues. It was definitely a war of words and who can hurt the other one worse. Both of us at each other throats like savage hungry dogs fighting over dominance.
Kaleb hardly ever showed emotion beyond fatigue. He showed a polite interest in the lives of his family, of his wife, and otherwise kept himself to himself. But today was different, everything Annie said was wrong, when she voiced the frustrations of her day he exploded in the way he did every few years, with words that pulled no punches. He knew her better than anyone, loved her more than anyone, but in these infrequent failures to suppress his rage at the world he tore into her like only a lover can. He knew her weak spots and deepest pains - she was an easy target. He watched her face change to hurt and anger and it only served to bring his own fury to a higher boil. Annie started to pack her bag, this wasn't a time to stick around. She'd been there, done that, this never ended well. If she stayed he'd break her down into a sobbing mess, then cry himself, needing her to facilitate the reconciliation. This way the pain would last longer, but at least the cut wouldn't be so deep.
So much damage was done when Brady argued. Every mean thing he'd thought but knew better than to say came flooding out. When he saw hurt in his opponents eyes he never backed off, only dug deeper, like a hunter at the first sign of blood. So when he started dating Rosa we all held our breath, she was simply too vulnerable to withstand his heat.
The arguing came right through the walls as loud as any TV show. We got all the details we never wanted to know, who, what and where... The next day passing them in the narrow hallway was excruciating, them wearing McDonald's smiles and us not knowing where to put our eyes.
The arguing had a dull exhaustion to it, like they'd been over the same bitterness too many times before. Jack had a sneer in his voice that extended to his eyes and Kerry spat after every vent.
There was no logic to the argument. Lee winced with his face turned away to the rain-washed window, it was another evening of listening to them bicker. For the most part they agreed with one another, but such was the urge to score points that each honed in on the tiniest of differences. They would nitpick and grind away until there was a chasm they just couldn't bridge and then Dad would storm out to the pub leaving Mom to fill his ears with "her side," not that he didn't have a good idea of that already.
The argument was cold. Every word over pronounced, slicing rather than tumbling through the dry air. The love hadn't gone, it had been distorted into a close mimic of hatred; and just as love endures, so would the wall of bitterness that separated them, growing more thorns every day.