Her heels are high and her bag is snakeskin. Hair pulled so tight you can see her skeleton. Vickers perfume on her breath, A tortoise-shell necklace between her breasts. The elevator dings, and they awkwardly step in, Their fingers touch on the rooftop button….
I like you despise you admire you What are we gonna do when everything all falls through? Underworked and oversexed I must express my disinterest, The rats are back inside my head what would Freud have said? Dirty clothes, I suppose, we all outgrow ourselves. I lay awake at four, staring at the wall, Counting all the cracks backwards in my best French.
I pretend the plaster is the skin on my palms And the cracks are representative of what is going on. I lose a breath, my love line seems entwined with death could be a spider web …. I lay awake at three, staring at the ceiling. All different sizes and all shades of green, Slashing it down just seems kinda mean. Who am I to deny myself a pawn for you to use? I make mistakes until I get it right. Oh the calamity I wanna go to sleep for an eternity… Who am I to deny myself a pawn? An eye for an eye for an eye for an eye, I dreamed I stabbed you with a coat hanger wire.
Open Letter to Wade Robson: No, I Don’t Hate You. – Reidun Saxerud
We drive to a house in Preston, We see police arresting a man with his hand in a bag. This place seems depressing. Then I see the handrails in the shower, A collection of those canisters for coffee, tea and flour And a photo of a young man in a van in Vietnam. I saw you in the lane next to me. You were doing free-style. Then you switched it around to a little bit of backstroke.
I had goggles on. They were getting foggy. I much prefer swimming to jogging.
I tried my very best to impress you Held my breath longer than I normally do. I was getting dizzy. Sunk like a stone. Like a first owners home loan. When I came to, you and your towel were gone. Heading down the Highway Hume somewhere at the end of June. Taxidermied kangaroos are littered on the shoulders A possum Jackson Pollock is painted on the tar.
Sometimes I think a single sneeze could be the end of us, my hay-fever is turning up, just swerved into a passing truck. Big business overtaking, without indicating; he passes on the right, been driving through the night to bring us the best price. More people die on the road than they do in the ocean, maybe we should mull over culling cars instead of sharks or just lock them up in parks where we can go and view them.
Why you so eager to please?go site
C. S. Lewis
I wear my heart on my sleeve. Gets harder in the winter, gotta be a fake or shiver, It takes a great deal out of me. Envy is thin because it bites but never eats. Hey Debbie Downer turn that frown upside down and just be happy. Boring, neurotic everything that I despise. We had some lows we had some mids we had some highs. Watermarks on the ceiling.
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I see a dead seal on the beach. Guess it just wants to die? I was driving down sun set strip Phillip Island, not Los Angeles Got me some hot chips and a cool drink, took a sandy seat on the shore. So take what you want from me. All I wanna say is…. How was your day? Mine was OK. Worked my fingers down to the bone. How about you, what did you do?
Spent my whole night dreaming of you. Like a Christmas tree on Boxing Day: thrown away. Why you so calm? I wanna shout. By the time I finished reading, I realized that my non-phone hand was clutching tightly to my forehead, forcefully scrunching my forehead skin together. But instead of distancing myself from the horror, I soaked in it.
I read it again and again, fascinated by how something could be so aggressively unappealing. It comes down to a pretty simple rule:. A Facebook status is annoying if it primarily serves the author and does nothing positive for anyone reading it. To be not annoying, a Facebook status typically has to be one of two things:.
You know why these are not annoying? Ideally, interesting statuses would be fascinating and original or a link to something that is , and funny ones would be hilarious. The author wants to affect the way people think of her. The author wants to make people jealous of him or his life.
An Open Letter to My Ex-Wife: I Thought You Were the Most Beautiful Thing in the World
The author is feeling lonely and wants Facebook to make it better. This is the least heinous of the five—but seeing a lonely person acting lonely on Facebook makes me and everyone else sad. Facebook is infested with these five motivations—other than a few really saintly people, most people I know, myself certainly included, are guilty of at least some of this nonsense here and there.
Bragging is such a staple of unfortunate Facebook behavior, it needs to be broken into three subsections:. Somewhere in the middle would be you calculatingly crafting your words as part of an unendearing and transparent campaign to make people see you in a certain way. On the other hand, they have the same exact core motivations as the blatant braggers and looking at these examples actually makes the first group seem almost lovable in comparison.
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The image-crafting and jealousy-inducing motives here are transparent. But really? The fun part of these is watching the inevitable comments and then watching how the author responds to them, if at all. This process slots the author into one of four sub-categories:. What are you looking for here?
Off to the gym, then class reading. I really want to get to the bottom of this. At some point between leaving work and arriving at the gym, you had an impulse to take out your phone and type this status. Basically, all I do each business day is supervise the workers, monitor the jobs and make corrections and I have been doing this for more than one year.