Vous avez cherché: nothing hurts me more than my own thoughts (Anglais - Télougou)

nothing hurts me more than my own thoughts
నా స్వంత ఆలోచనల కంటే ఏదీ నన్ను బాధించదు

nothing kills us more than your own thoughts
మీ స్వంత ఆలోచనల కంటే మరేమీ మిమ్మల్ని చంపదు

lost in my own thoughts
నేను నా సొంత ఆలోచనల్లో మునిగిపోయాను

there is nothing in this world that can trouble you more than your own thoughts
ఈ ప్రపంచంలో మీ స్వంత ఆలోచనల కంటే మిమ్మల్ని ఇబ్బంది పెట్టేది మరొకటి లేదు

i lost in my own thoughts
నేను నా మనస్సులో కోల్పోతాను

nothing kills you more than your own thoughts the hardest prison to escape in your mind
మీ స్వంత ఆలోచనల కంటే ఏదీ మిమ్మల్ని చంపదు

i need a break from my own thoughts
i need a break from my own thoughts

love you more than my self
김태형 오빠 , 내 자신보다 널 더 사랑해

i love you more than my self
నా స్వయం కంటే నేను నిన్ను ఎక్కువగా ప్రేమిస్తున్నాను

lots of words to say but i lost in my own thoughts
చెప్పడానికి మాటలు లేవు కానీ నా ఆలోచనల్లోనే ఓడిపోయాను.

my girl loves me more than i thought
నేను నిన్ను నాకంటే ఎక్కువగా ప్రేమిస్తున్నాను

no one will not be understand me more than u
మీ కంటే ఎవరూ నన్ను అర్థం చేసుకోలేరు

i'll always love you more than my limit
నేను ఎల్లప్పుడూ నిన్ను నా పరిమితి కంటే ఎక్కువగా ప్రేమిస్తాను

my ego sometimes asked me why you always say sorry to her?i replied because she matters more than my ego.
క్షమించండి నేను మిమ్మల్ని బాధపెడితే దయచేసి నన్ను క్షమించు

she is not my own sister but i love more than any real sisterany real sister does to her real sister
ఏ నిజమైన సోదరి అయినా తన నిజమైన సోదరికి చేస్తుంది

the room – story about what jesus does with our sins in that place between wakefulness and dreams, i found myself in the room. there were no distinguishing features save for one wall covered with small index card files, which stretched from floor to ceiling and seemingly endlessly in either direction, had very different headings. as i drew near the wall of files, the first to catch my attention was one that read “people i have liked.” i opened it and began flipping cards. i quickly shut it, shocked to realize that i recognized the names written on each one. and then without being told, i knew exactly where i was. this lifeless room with its small files was a crude catalog system for my life. here were written the actions of every moment, big and small, in a detail my memory couldn’t match. a sense of wonder and curiosity, coupled with horror, stirred within me as i began randomly opening files and exploring their content. some brought joy and sweet memories; others a sense of shame and regret so intense that i would look over my shoulder to see if anyone was watching. a file named “friends” was next to one marked “friends i have betrayed.” the titles ranged from the mundane to the outright weird. “books i have read,” “lies i have told,” “comfort i have given,” “jokes i have laughed at.” some were almost hilarious in their exactness: “things i’ve yelled at my brothers.” others i couldn’t laugh at: “things i have done in my anger,” “things i have muttered under my breath at my parents.” i never ceased to be surprised by the contents. often there were many more cards than i expected. sometimes fewer than i hoped. i was overwhelmed by the sheer volume of the life i had lived. could it be possible that i had the time in my short life to write each of these thousands or even millions of cards? but each card confirmed this truth. each was written in my own handwriting. each signed with my own signature. when i came to a file marked “lustful thoughts,” i felt a chill run through my body. i pulled the file out only an inch, not willing to test its size, and drew out a card. i shuddered at its detailed content. i felt sick to think that such a moment had been recorded. an almost animal rage broke on me. one thought dominated my mind: no one must ever see these cards! no one must ever see this room! i have to destroy them! in an insane frenzy i yanked the file out. its size didn’t matter now. i had to empty it and burn the cards. but as i took it at one end and began pounding it on the floor, i could not dislodge a single card. i became desperate and pulled out a card, only to find it as strong as steel when i tried to tear it. defeated and utterly helpless, i returned the file to its slot. leaning my forehead against the wall, i let out a long, self-pitying sigh. and then i saw it. the title bore “people i have shared the gospel with.” the handle was brighter than those around it, newer, almost unused. i pulled on its handle and a small box not more than 3 inches long fell into my hands. i could count the cards it contained on one hand. and then the tears came. i began to weep. sobs so deep that the hurt started in my stomach and shook through me. i fell on my knees and cried. i cried out of shame, from the overwhelming shame of it all. the rows of file shelves swirled in my tear-filled eyes. no one must ever, ever know of this room. i must lock it up and hide the key. but then as i pushed away the tears, i saw him. no, please not him. not here. oh, anyone but jesus. i watched helplessly as he began to open the files and read the cards. i couldn’t bear to watch his response. and in the moments i could bring myself to look at his face, i saw a sorrow deeper than my own. he seemed to intuitively go to the worst boxes. why did he have to read every one? finally he turned and looked at me from across the room. he looked at me with pity in his eyes. but this was a pity that didn’t anger me. i dropped my head, covered my face with my hands and began to cry again. he walked over and put his arm around me. he could have said so many things. but he didn’t say a word. he just cried with me. then he got up and walked back to the wall of files. starting at one end of the room, he took out a file and, one by one, began to sign his name over mine on each card. “no!” i shouted rushing to him. all i could find to say was “no, no,” as i pulled the card from him. his name shouldn’t be on these cards. but there it was, written in red so rich, so dark, so alive. the name of jesus covered mine. it was written with his blood. he gently took the card back. he smiled a sad smile and began to sign the cards. i don’t think i’ll ever understand how he did it so quickly, but the next instant it seemed i heard him close the last file and walk back to my side. he placed his hand on my shoulder and said, “it is finished.” i stood up, and he led me out of the room. there was no lock on its door. there were still cards to be written. read more at stories | jesus christ wallpapers | christian songs online - part 123 http://www.turnbacktogod.com/category/stories/page/123/#ixzz3ulm9yz6m
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