sadness - quotes and descriptions to inspire creative writing
The old man sat there, dominated by a profound sadness, fatigue engraved on his worn face. He warmed his shivering hands against the crackling fire. The sorrow grew more profound each year he spent in his quiet, lonely house, the solemn walls reviving the memory of the losses he'd encountered in a previous life. "It's somewhat morbid" he would say to himself as he stared in the mirror, lost in its reflection. No longer could he see that inquisitiveness, that desire, that fire in his eyes. All that remained was the deceiving hollow soul that reflected in the tear-stained glass, the marks leaving no room to see his true self anymore. He was just a shell of a man.
My sadness is a hollowness. I can't tell you what's worse. Sometimes my hollowness is a shell, holding in a thousand oceans of tears. Sometimes though, it holds a thousand pieces of glass that are wedged in between my soul and body. That's the pain. Sometimes though, like when I had my first kiss, kissing that beautiful girl I tasted something like rotten fruit. I had kept my eyes open so all I could see was freckles. Or when my cat died and I didn't cry. I just stood there. Or when everybody laughed and I couldn't bring myself to do it. That's the scariest thing. Sometimes I am somebody, somebody in pain and sadness. But sometimes I nobody, and I don't seem to feel. I don't seem to exist at all...
"Sorrow," I say "That's my name."
Luke, my new roommate, looks up at me from his laptop. It's the first time.
Before I can help myself, I notice his eyes are the color of moss and dirt shoveled together. I also notice his freckles and then, my eyes travel to his thick dark hair. My insides shrink when I realize I want to reach out and run my fingers through it. I inhale sharply, trying to focus.
"That's a pretty depressing name, considering you look pretty happy," he admits.
I think of all the cigarette butts and alcohol my dad probably littered around the house. I think of my mom, living in her perfect house with my perfect football champion stepbrothers. I think of her staring at my report card and my outfits and my car. I think of myself getting drunk at those stupid parties. The lights getting to my head, the music thundering-
"Yeah I'm not that sad, huh?"
He doesn't answer, just types, his fingers whizzing over the keyboard.
"Why don't you just call me Tina. It's my middle name."
"Tina," he mutters.
All I am is sadness, every other emotion pushed from my being. Where there was the love, the light, the laughter is an aching hollowness. I was honest, truthful and full of more love for you than you can ever understand. I have been soft, kind and gentle - yet apparently all that is negated by being too intelligent. And people wonder why girls hide behind false stupidity. All I am is a girl, why the hell didn't you just see me that way?
When the sadness comes my appetite is ash on the floor. The food gets stuck, four bites and I'm done. The urge to cry comes and goes, chaotic, powerful, spilling hot tears. In-between the floods it sits heavy on my heart. I won't sit still though, I won't curl up and refuse to move like my body wants. This too will pass.
She would describe her sadness like death by a thousand paper cuts, for every time she remembered her loss it was another cut to her already damaged mind. None were enough to kill her, but overtime their accumulation bled her of the humanity she had once had. She once was gregarious and generous natured, now she was just gaunt and melancholy.
In this sadness there is no past or future, just living by the moment. Every day is measured from the moment of waking into this new reality until my body can do no more, until sleep comes to rest this weary mind. Each day I greet the sun like a climber greets their rope, fingers holding on fast despite the pain. It is grief, no different from bereavement, coming in wintry waves.
As Alicia cried her bottom lip quivered, the same as a baby pushed past endurance. Her eyes became glacier blue under the sheen of water, constant, yet allowing the tears to flow without pause. In that moment, in seeing her own reflection she understood the depth of pain that had been sitting below her skin.
The sadness flowed through her veins and deadened her mind. It was a poison to her spirit, dulling her killing off her other emotions until it was the only one that remained. It was as if a black mist had settled upon her and refused to shift, and no matter how bright the day was she would feel no sun and hear no bird song. For the world was lost to her and she knew of nothing that would bring it back into focus.
Her sadness was like a flowing river, cold and unending. It washed all the goodness out of her and left her a mere shell of what she had once been.
The fire crackled as I stared up at the stars that were banked in the sky, if I were to call them beautiful it wouldn't do it any justice. It was more than that like staring into someone's eyes. And somewhere out there was my home. I couldn't help but feel like the last man standing , I had lost every one of my friends , Sydne to the mountain, Lucy because of my tongue. Maybe I was sent here to realise what friendship actually meant. But I hadn't had any realisation, the only thing I did know was that it was every man for themselves out here.
The sadness was his albatross. It lay like dirty snow over every other emotion, greying his spirit, tainting all that could bring him joy and relief. His once hearty laugh had become hollow and the smile that had been so quick to light his face was now only a mask to protect him from well meaning questions. He could not look at old photographs of himself and Sandy without being consumed by the desire to wind back time and slow it down so he could savour those precious moments, and chastising himself for squandering them. His mind had always been on the next deal, the big one, the one that would make them comfortable for life. He knew he wasn't to blame for the drunk that ran her down, but the sadness had settled over his skin anyway and his spring was a long way off.
Next thing she knew she was there at the airport watching Scott leave, Dawn had to bite her lip to stop the tears rolling out, her boyfriend was standing infront of her, he was about to go, but he still smiled like he was only going to be gone for two or three days.
Now and then he struck his forehead and heart like a man demented, with cries of anguish, curses and lamentations.
Breathy gasps reverberated through the beach. She was crying. Salty tears mingled with ocean's and the oncoming tempest whipped her hair around. She was alone, scared and devastated. Her heart felt butchered, her love taken away bit by bit.
Internal pain. A disease. A disorder. Things loved most are thrown aside, trashed from the mind. Memories covered and caked with evil, darkness, and greed. Sorrow is the new smile in her eye. Tears replace the sunshine. And life is dark, for what seems to be forever.
Sadness and I are best friends,
Every night at 4 am exact, it creeps up on me.
Sleeping beside me while my eyes are not asleep,
Sadness is hope whereas I am hopeless but not desperate for that kind of 'hope' if you can see,
I live in the darkness but it never overcrowds me, however sadness has always been in the shadows drinking away the liquored taste of tears.
The tears of mine,
Mine has always been a sigh, the sigh has always been a sign and that sign has never been found because the sigh was drowned in anger and no one listens to anger or sound. The sound has always been loud but the loudness has always been deaf to me.
I don't know when sadness will leave, but when sadness leaves, another leaf falls from the trees.
Sadness reaches deep into the heart,
Threatening to never depart.
Until its victim begins to crave,
It blistering pain and living grave.
Sadness becomes a best friend,
When joy departs and good times end.
It hangs over its victim’s head, everywhere they go,
Heavy like metal and cold like snow.
When all is lost,
Sadness shows up without a cost.
Somehow its tears are a relief,
But at the same time they are also a thief,
Stealing what joy is left,
And obliterating it with their theft.