Crying Metaphors Novels & Stories

I felt my head aching real hard adding to the stingy pain already in my forehead. "Cry , just cry I want to see you cry."he cooed in my ears and then he starts thrusting in and out of me angressively. I couldn't screen anymore as I was too weak to make a sound. my eyes transformed into a dam of water and tears blurred my vision pouring down my cheeks like rain. I was already feeling like a slave for him, cause I willingly submitted to his want. He wanted me to cry and that I did, cause I had no choice.

Not crying. My blood runs cold.

It’s hard—God, it’s so hard—to act happy when you know that soon, the person you love will be hurt because of you. I even cried. And honestly, I didn’t care. I knew she felt it… my tears falling, the tremble in my voice. But I couldn’t stop it. I couldn’t hold it in. Other men might say crying is weak, or childish, or unmanly. But no— A man who cries is a man who knows himself. A man who cries is a man who loves. And I cried because I know I could make her cry… but I never want to.

But then the heavens opened, and the rain poured down, soaking me, each drop icy as it struck my cheeks, my arms, my legs. I lay there, staring up at the sky, letting the rain wash over me. It felt like the universe itself was crying for me, shedding tears that I no longer had the strength to shed. I’d cried enough in my life, shed enough tears to fill an ocean, and now, even though I was breaking inside, I couldn’t cry anymore. The rain did it for me.

Tears blurred my vision as I clenched my fists, trying to steady myself. “Why won’t you fight me face-to-face?” I shouted, my voice cracking. “You’re nothing but cowards!” They laughed again, louder this time, and the sound was like nails scraping against my soul. My legs gave out beneath me, and I sank to the ground, the cold stone pressing against my knees. I didn’t want to cry. I didn’t want to give them the satisfaction. But the tears came anyway, spilling silently down my cheeks.

Millie continues "take his money, take his job, take his happiness, take his soul. It still won't be enough to pay back what he did to you" Tears roll down her cheeks and her vision becomes clear again. She can't think of the last time she looked in a mirror and her face wasn't dripping in tears "There you go, crying again. Like you always are" "I'm not" she wipes her face "I'm not crying anymore" "Good" ~

"I'm just embarrassed that you saw me cry. I'm not supposed to be weak." I grab her hand. "Quinn, since when is someone who is sad or crying a weak person? Sadness is a form of emotion and crying is a way of expressing that emotion. Weakness is when you're helpless and it's not a feeling. At this point, does it sound the same? It doesn't, does it?" She looked at me without blinking. I thought it was because she felt more sad, but it turned out to be because she wanted to hit my head afterwards.

I deactivated my social media accounts except for my Twitter account that became my virtual diary. I am indulging myself with tv series I can watch on Netflix. Some series there has a moral lesson that also made me realize about small things. At times like this, we need to change. “Tears can be teachers if we let them” I saw a phrase on the internet. I instantly took a screenshot of it. This quote is realistic. If we let our tears be our teachers, then it will teach us a lot of lessons in life. Crying doesn’t mean a person is weak. Crying is a way where we need to let go of the pain, sadness, and anger in our hearts. After we cry, everything will be okay.

The sobs tear me apart, uncontrollable, primal. I cry like a child, like a man who has just been ripped from himself. I hold my head in my hands, trying to stifle the sounds, but the tears race ahead of me. They rise from so far away that I no longer know where I hurt. Everywhere, maybe. I scream without sound. My mouth opens, but only a hoarse breath escapes. The pain tears at me. It’s as if my heart has caught fire inside my chest. I hit the wall.

MY BUTTERFLY ****************** CALEB’S POV ****************** My heart is heavy and burdened as I watch the woman who has come to mean everything to me wither away before my eyes. I see her pains and how she tries so hard to hide them with a smile. Sometimes I want to break down and cry but for her, I try to be strong. However when she is not watching I go to a private place and cry. They say strong men do not cry but for Angela’s sake I agree to be a weakling for her sake I agree that I am not man enough.