Express Yourself Novels & Stories

"You have other ways of expressing yourself, Aurelia. Maybe you can try asking Robin in a different way, like writing a note." "That's true," I signed, feeling a glimmer of hope. "I could try that."

I asked, I was already back on my feet ,had sort of composed myself back together again. "Okay what do you want me to do for you to believe me ..Just tell me ,I'll do anything" I pleaded "Just tell me..I'll do anything ,please" "Look Anu, I'm not used to this types of things okay ,I really don't know how to express my feelings ,never did..But I'm trying here"I grumbled embarrassedly

I didn't have time to beat around the bush. "I did this because I fucking love you, can't you see I'm it?!" I yelled in anger, my eyes turning red in anger. I didn't regret saying it to his face. I was really happy about everything that happened, his friend was right, I should learn to express myself.

I always appreciated that she follows my way of communication. At a really early age,I noticed how hard it was for me to express myself through talking.When confronted,I would always end up crying because I felt like it would be hard to articulate my words well and express myself.When I felt pressed to tell her something,I would write notes and leave them on her bedside.She would then try to talk to me about whatever I had written but when she noticed I didn’t say as much,she started leaving me notes too.

I express “Fine…..you guys should carry on and we will meet you guys later

A loud uproar broke out among the students. Claire chuckled behind her. "This is exactly our expression when we were informed about it too, I totally forgot to prep you, I'm sorry," she said. "No! No! This can't happen, No! How do I reach my family? My phone is the only way I get to know if they are doing okay," Kimberly cried. "I'm sorry but there's nothing you can do about it," Claire said. A drop of tear rolled down kimberly's cheeks.

“Say something.” “It is not answering directly,” I say. “Then what is it doing?” “It is… showing something.” “What?” I struggle for the right words. Because there are none that fit perfectly. “It is not communicating the way we do,” I say. “It is… giving impressions.” “That sounds complicated.” “It is.” “What kind of impressions?” I focus. Carefully. Trying to hold onto what I am feeling without letting it pull me deeper. “Age,” I say. Silence.

Then I stood in front of the mirror and washed my face. I looked at my reflection, and tried to work on the appropriate expression. I don't know if you have ever done that. I guess it would sound a little crazy to you if you've never done it. I went through a couple of 'sad' expressions. I thought it just made me look constipated or something. I looked like I was physically ill, instead of heartbroken. That would not do.

I knew I had been selfish and reckless, but in this moment, all I wanted was for her to understand. “Faith,” I began, my voice shaky but resolute, “I have never been good at this. At expressing myself. At being open. But I can’t stand here any longer pretending that nothing matters when you’re in front of me. I... I need you to hear me out. You deserve that much.”