despair [Theme] Page 50

Who do gone, he is silent.

He who has never hoped can not despair.

From now on, now all that matters to me. But not the future! I don't want to wait for him. Don't want someone texted me, fell in love, wrote that she wants to live with me the rest of my life, and then it turned out that it was a wrong number.

Just to suffer. To yearn for it to tear and again to glue the photo to prove to myself that it's not worth it to call all kinds of names, to despise her, to promise himself to revenge it, pounding hands on table, to feel abandoned, humiliated, crushed. Finding anything related to her and in a rage to destroy, and the next day regret that nothing of it remained. Relentlessly to convince myself that she was not and never staney worthy of him, that he deserves a woman a hundred times better. To write her hate-filled letter and not send to call her at night, unable to utter a word. To feel pain, hatred, distrust, stiffness. Or at least to drink to the border of the lethargy that brings the oblivion and in the morning to Wake up and see the empty bottles by the bed. Promise yourself that you'll never forgive her, and in half an hour to forgive. Every day to forget her, and swear that tomorrow I will forget really. Eager to see her, when you feel what you feel bad, and feeling worse, mentally cursing himself for that desire.

We follow the herd and end the days of wild despair.

Eternal peace despair - the despair of the dark night. Comes with the darkness and disappears with her.

One who goes through the picturesque countryside to the scaffold, not looking at the flowers, smiling on his way. He thought about the axe and the chopping block, the terrible shock, broken bones and veins, and the grave in the end.

Talking with experts, I realized one thing: damn these specialists not cut. Any rule can be circumvented, any law can be broken. From now on, I intend to break them all... Because desperate people do desperate things.

Hunted and pinned to the wall, the cat turns into a tiger.

Never give in to despair - it doesn't keep its promises.

- A desperate terrorist...
All terrorists are desperate.

Despair is a sign of weakness.

Such has been my fate since childhood. All read on my face a sign of bad feelings, which were not; but they assumed - and they were born. I was modest -- I was accused of slyness: I became secretive. I deeply felt the good and evil; I will not be caressed, all offended: I was vindictive; I was gloomy - other children merry and talkative; I felt above them, I put below. I became envious. I was ready to love the whole world, - to me no one understood and I learned to hate. My colourless youth leaked in fight against itself and light; my best feelings, fearing ridicule, I buried in my heart: they died there. I was telling the truth - I was not believed: I began to deceive; to know well the light and the springs of society, I became skilled in the science of life and seen others to be happy using the gift of all the advantages which I so tirelessly sought. And then in my chest born of despair - not the despair that treat the barrel of a gun, but a cold, impotent despair, covered with courtesy and good-natured smile. I became a moral cripple; one half of my soul did not exist, it dried up, evaporated, died, I cut it off and threw it, then another moved and lived here for everybody, and nobody noticed because nobody knew about the existence of the lost of half of it.

Love really is like nothing else, able from time to time to turn a person's entire life. But the pursuit of love is something else, too, causes a person to enter into the sphere, which never before had not thought. It's something called "despair". And if love can change a person quickly, the despair - even faster.