Letting Go Novels & Stories

Why couldn't I learn to let go? What was Yves Chapman doing right now? He'd probably broken open a new bottle of wine last night to celebrate the absence of my harassment. Maybe he played the piano with Clarisse Tatcher, his junior, and enjoyed their time alone. I laughed self-deprecatingly. I wasn't a hindrance between them anymore. Just then, my phone rang. It was Yves. I closed my eyes slowly. It was time I learned my lesson. Yves stormed into my room, not a wrinkle seen on his clothes, and frowned down at me. His eyes were cold, as if he was just looking at some peasant. "What are you playing at this time?" he chided. "Why aren't you answering your phone?

Those last days I let go of all my resentment and pain. I don't know how to explain it to you, but it was like an escape from my own mind and body. These days I felt like my past was disappearing, but I found myself as soon as I was willing to leave behind what was pulling me down. Herman Hesse said that some of us think holding on makes us strong, but sometimes it is just about letting go. From the very first moment when I let go of what I was, I became what I might be and when I let go of what I had, I received what I needed so desperately in my life.

"I think you made a choice, Landen. Everyone has to make decisions in life, and we have to stick with them. But that does not mean that you would be the one to be unhappy always. But you can still find peace with both Hannah And Jasper which is very important for you. You just have to be willing to let go of what you lost Acceptance is the key vital principle to live by. " Letting go. This was how it sounded, but it seemed to be a struggle. Anna was all over me, in my mind, in my imagination. Even if I wanted to forget her I could not because she was the only thing I clung to no matter how much I hated myself for doing so. “I’ll try,” I finally whispered thoug

I announce before leaving the room leaving everyone in shock. I sigh audibly while trudging towards my room, this day is getting crazier by the minute I can't wait for tomorrow's note sarcastic term there'.

Amy has gotten worse over the months, but these past few weeks have just been something else. "It's ok not to be strong all of the time, Christian. It's ok to talk, to feel and to lean on others when you need to. It's ok to let go of the past and create a new future." I keep looking at the floor while mulling over my next words. My mother is a smart cookie and doesn't miss much, she's also insanely good at reading between the lines, which while being a bonus most of the time, It can make hiding things from her almost impossible at times.

Now I know the meaning. Letting them go doesn’t make you love them less . Instead when you let them go while they are in pain you are giving them peace that they crave . In this life the only thing they got was pain that they tried to fight but did not gain anything from it. They wanted to get rid of their lives, which means they do not want to stay anymore even if they have a reason to live .

This insensitive Prima Donna needed a teasing dose of reality. I went on, "She gave up her happiness, so that you could be with Dalton. And what better way than to let go of that important person who meant the world to her?" Caroline was breathing heavily by now, probably in denial, judging by that half crazed look in her eye. Denial was her security blanket, it was her means of blocking herself from the cruelty of the world. "No, that's a lie," she said, shaking her head.

“If I have to do a trial, I’m never going to move on from this. I gave him six years, and I never got his love. I know it’s time to let go and walk away, and that’s what I’m doing.” “Where are you moving to?” My mom pressed. “I’m not ready to tell you that information yet. We all know, you tend to say things you don’t mean to when you're upset or excited. I need to wait for all the moving pieces to come to a rest before I worry about telling you,” I answer. “You are just like your brothers,” Mom huffed in frustration.

Ever since I catch Wren Sinclair cheating on me, every day when she comes home, I'll pin her down by the entryway, pull off her skirt, and spray high-concentration alcohol all over her private area to disinfect it. Knowing she's in the wrong, Wren always cooperates with me, her eyes red as she gently tells me to stop. But today, she comes home nearly two hours late. When I smell men's cologne on her, I lose it again, grabbing her collar. "You were only half an hour late last time, and you slept with a man. Now you're two hours late. Tell me! How many men was it this time? Four?" Wren apologizes to me for the 29th time, but when I push her away again, she finally snaps. She raises the bac

"You have been part of this city for longer than most of what stands in it. That belongs in the record." The frequency shifts again. Something vast and old and untranslatable into any emotional vocabulary I have, moving through the lane like a tide going out — not diminishing, not weakening. Releasing. The specific release of something that has been holding on because letting go felt like disappearing, discovering that what waits on the other side of letting go is not absence. It is return. *When?* it asks. "When you're ready," I say. "I will know. The city will know. And when it's time — the boundary will be open. I will make s