Guts Crying Novels & Stories

Cry? Someone is crying!? But who is crying in my consciousness!?

I take another drink. But he doesn't budge. "Even if Wes is an asshole, you're still allowed to cry." "But I don't want to cry," I say. "I've felt like I was going to throw up all day, sure, but I don't feel like I need to cry." Is that bad? Or just weird? It's the absolute truth - I'm definitely not holding back tears. I don't even have that achy feeling you get in your throat or behind your eye sockets that means that the waterworks are on their way. I just feel...like I just ate an entire tub of month-old tuna salad from a gas station.

"Damn it…" He pulled a couple of tissues and dried his tears, but they were unstoppable. He hadn't even wanted to cry in the first place, so why did his eyes betray him like they had a will of their own? Could he have been possessed by an overly sentimental devil with a penchant for tears? Was this some kind of black magic? No, he reckoned he should hire a voodoo specialist to purge whatever strange force had come over him before he truly became a crybaby! Outside the consultation room, Giselle raised her hand to dry the tears she'd expected to have cascaded down her face. However, she was baffled when her fingers came away dry. Could she have been so overwhelmed by panic that even tears eva

The Scream Year of the Lilies Torrid Season The Hut Altsas Mavli MY FACE FEELS TENDER. Like cooked meat especially my right cheek. My right eye is swollen and sore. My mouth is bleeding and I'm sobbing. I sit at the corner I sat yesterday night and early this morning. I rest my forehead on my knees and wrap my hands around my legs. I cry loudly not minding that there are nine other people in the hut. I cry till my throat stings and gets really sore and till my voice breaks.

I thought I might puke. The shirt stifled my howl but did nothing to stop me from crying. Tears streamed down my face in an endless river and I fisted my hands so hard that my nails were making my palms bleed. It took two more excruciating yanks before it seemed to be realigned. The floor swayed and I fought to stay conscious. I tossed the shirt into my bag and rubbed my eyes, breathing deeply. I quickly downed an old protein bar and half of a bottle of water, instantly feeling better with something in my stomach.

I'm going crazy here' he tossed his phone back on the seat next to him after he read through the text that had just popped on the screen of his phone. "Shit!" He cursed angrily under his breath as the tears he'd been fighting back finally found their way down his cheeks. He was hurt and the only way he could express it was to shed tears. Who said that men don't cry? Who said that it's a crime for men to cry? They are humans too, he was a fucking human too. He had emotions just like the other gender, so why shouldn't he cry his pain out? Why should he pretend to be fine when he was dying inside?

I can’t even begin to dissect them or get them into any real order or control. So much for a timeout! “And how many more months of this?” I cry, waving my hands at the toilet hopelessly, grabbing the flusher in repulsion, sniffing back new tears. “And the fucking crying … I’m so done with all this crying!” I yell at him.

My throat runs dry and a lump starts to appear, I know it’ll lead to nothing but tears so I try my best to push it down. I will not cry. —*

Cosmo gasped “m-my f-friends! My FAMILY!” He scooped up the slopping guts around him and let them splatter to the ground from between his fingers. He threw his head back and wailed. The heartbreaking misery echoed off the blood-soaked walls above him. The bodies hanging over the levels only stared at us, their liquified eyeballs crying onto the dead below. “I d-don’t want t-to live” Cosmo whined, before clutching at his ears “their screams won’t stop! Make them stop, please!”

“Is something wrong? Your face seems to be turning yellow and you look like you are about to puk- … ” I quickly put a hand on my mouth and sprang on my feet before dashing down the hall and falling to my knees to hug the toilet seat. My breakfast bar. No! That was the only thing keeping my stomach from eating itself. Soon enough, I found myself crying over the spilled breakfast bar and hurling throat-hurting, yellow acid. Carl was instantly by my side. He rubbed my back with one hand and held my hair with another.