I don’t know if I am fixed or not. Some days it feels as if I am. The sun shines, blue skies, and everything is fine. The next day I am deep within myself and I am broken again. Can I be fixed? Is it a possibility or just an illusion on sunny days. Maybe someday I will find out. Someday.
A motorcycle sits in the garage. Old, oily, and unused. It is a perfect opportunity to have a winter project for some easy summer enjoyment. The wrench time is long and tough due to the nature of the condition and the years sat.
It was hard to say it. The date was fixed in my mind, no matter how hard I tried to remove it. The was set. There was no stopping it. The day I died.
And took the rest of the world with me.
Hah. You and your fixed income. You and your fixed opinions. You and your inability to change. Your fixed astrological sign that denotes your stubbornness, how I don’t care, how if you come with me you will change regardless.
Fixed? Fixing is nice, I guess. c: I find enjoyment in fixing things. It helps me work my brain…although it’s not something I do often. Just. Fixing thing is awesome. And all that good stuff – if you haven’t noticed I fail at this.
I fixed my broken heart today, with a stabler and some glue. The doctor said it wouldn’t help and that mom and pop will have to send me somewhere if i don’t stop. But ill try again later when I get back. The doctor doesn’t know what he’s talking about. None of them do… They never did.
All was mended but not fixed. I mean the problem could be looked over but not resolved. I don’t think anything would ever be normal again. But that’s tragedy. It leaves things broken,. Always just patched. Not living, existing. There but not present.
my mind, my grades, why are our thoughts so fixed on what we think is right and wrong and good and bad, what’s better, what makes you smart because C’s sure don’t. science is a science and maybe not everyone is meant to have their minds fixed like science does. arguable, science is creative and discovery, an art to some. but not me, so let’s just move on and unfix ourselves.
Wibbly wobboly timely wimey. Yes, certain things are fixed in time. like me writing this. to well, the all beloved you. Let me add a winky face ;). oh baby, thats the spot. well full stop… dot thing. Well I believe our time must end however our love shall continue.
I yearn to be fixed in regards to relationships, the future and its ambiguity, my shoulder, my debt that I don’t really feel yet and don’t like that I don’t feel it. . .
I’m also yearning to become a better writer so that I don’t have to use the word ‘yearning’ or any of its conjugations.
Funny, just thought about one more and then the bell goes off. . . and sometimes, you gotta say “Fuck that bell.”
Don’t say “Fuck you, bell.” You’re talking to a computer. . . which, today, isn’t actually that weird, now that I, and now you, realize.
Anyway, one would think that, because I sincerely want an impetus of some sort to get my shit together, I feel like the GAME is ‘fixed,’ if you will. (I worry about my grammar. Weird, right?) Well, that’s incorrect, which is also a weird thing to recognize, because I’m wicked positive. I see the faults, I see the misfortune, I see ex’s that left their mark and I see the fact that ‘uncertainty’ is the only thing I’m certain of these days is bad for business. . . but dammit I feel good.
A moment in time that traps you. It fills you with anxiety. Is it fate? Why fix something that is’t broken? This life has too many adventure to try and hold on to fixed ponts in time. Dr.who reference there. What fills broken?
He could fix anything and everything in that rotting, decrepit house. Give him a hammer and a sunny day, and within hours whole rooms would transform. The yellowing, peeling wallpaper would be gone, and the baseboards painted. The rooms lost their scent of dust and decaying clothes and instead began to smell like fresh cut wood and drying paint. The weeds were pulled, flowers bloomed, and the porch stairs didn’t creak unsteadily whenever I tread upon them. The windows were washed, the whole house illuminated like a lamp, and warm from the afternoon sun. He laboured, and repaired the entirety of that home with his rough mocha-coloured hands. He was a handyman, a fixer. A man who came with scotch tape, and pieced back together the broken. Perhaps thats why he was so drawn to me. I was much better at breaking things. Everything.
But he refused to let me break, held me together in those warm brown eyes. Whenever I faltered, he only smiled, “I can fix that.”
It was fixed.
It wasn’t perfect, but it was fixed.
It worked.
That was all that mattered.
It wasn’t perfect, but it worked. It worked.
And that’s all that matters. It works, I fixed it, and who cares if it’s not perfect.
It works.
Things are fine.
It doesn’t hurt.
Not anymore.
So why, why, do I still feel so empty?
she looks at a girl with the burns in her face, in her arms, in her body. she pities her. but she gives just a hint of a smile and she knows the girl will be better. then, she steps away into the mirror and looks for clothes to wear today.
i wish my head was fixed, it is broken and i have no idea where the parts are to fix it. perhaps i need to just relax, disregard everybody and just think about who i am and what i will be. where my love will be placed and where i will go. to whom shall share my bed and warmth. that’s how i will be fixed , but when will this occur i wonder?
The window’s fixed, Smith yelled down from the top of the ladder. “For how long this time?” Marylin smirked and wiped the sweat from her forehead. While you’re up there, could you put the Christmas decorations up? It’s only eight months early.”
“You’re weird, you know that?”
i fixed the world made peace and love, no saddens was ever seen again. if only this could be rue and i could be got. no one would cry. not with true sorrow id allow love to rain over all
I couldn’t fix the hole in the sky. It kept growing, bigger and larger. I asked for help but was told it couldn’t be fixed. How could it not be fixed? Anything broken can be fixed.
oh no it’s this word again…is there only one word for each day? is that why it’s called one word? makes sense. but i thought it was supposed to be one word, but a different word each time you refresh the browser. guess not. looks like this website needs to be fixed, as in made better :)
fixed. im fixed on someone, and i have never felt this way before! i don’t even know how to explain it in words. I’ve never been so fixed on a boy before, i don’t know what love is but I’m pretty sure it has to feel something like this, i know it does.
My eyes were fixed on it. My eyes were fixed on the thing I wanted most. I’d been working my whole life for this. Nothing could tear my intense gaze away. It was as if the it had a magnetic connection with my eyes. It was absurd, but perfect.
i’m tired of this word. makes me think of the removal of cat testicles this time. that’s weird. cats have barbed penises. that’s even weirder. who cares? people are judging. who cares? i wish you loved me. you do?
who cares.
my stomach hurts. i wish this would go away. hurry up, clock.
people always assume that they need to be fixed. people worry about their flaws, their mistakes, their imperfections. well, the truth is… nobody is perfect. and although you may come across seemingly perfect individuals in your lifetime, the truth is – no one is. everyone has their flaws. you’re beautiful in your own way; and my hope is that one day, everyone realizes their inner beauty.
i already wrote about this before i signed up. you disappoint me. i disappoint myself. i wish people loved me. i sound like a whiny shit. i want to be like mother theresa. that’s who i want to exude. that nature i mean. i want to love everyone. i want to be a good person that helps. that’s hard being an introvert i think.
I don’t believe that you can really fix anything. You will always see the scars in whatever it is, whether it be a vase that has fallen or a heart that has been broken. The scars will always be visable.
the planets are fixed in their orbit
they have no other option but to circle around the sun for the entirety of their existence
what a beautiful yet disconcerting reality to always know what you are doing, did, and are about to do; knowing your final causality, your purpose
but i rather never be fixed in one place
because movement is beautiful
without motion we would not exist
let me move freely as to experience all that I do not yet know
I wish my life were fixed. There wouldn’t be any problems. Life would be easy. Nothing is every really fixed though, just mended I suppose. Wouldn’t it be easy if our problems were fixed for us? If only…….We can dream though and thats what I’ll do.
I’m fized at zero. Your mind is fixed at anything but happiness. I want to fix that desperately. I need to. Oh god that hurt. That hurt so horribly. I need for it not to. If I want us to work, I need it not to. If i want to help you, i need it not to. i can’t care about you. not this much. oh god
When I think about this word, I think of the negative connotation. I think of something being “fixed” as in a fixed race or a fixed lottery. It’s something that is intervened upon. It’s something dishonest. Something ugly and unnatural. I fixed the race and won a million dollars.
i fixed the door. handymen fix things. bob the builder fixes things. got problems? FIX them. Fix the table, it’s wobbly. Fix your face, it’s frowning. Fix world problems. Fix things with tools and skil.s.
People have no fixed state of consciousness. Humans are every changing beings and are never static. Being dynamic is intrinsic to humanity. In a state such as ours, there is no “fixed”
I don’t remember the last time I felt that I had truly fixed something. Lately, it feels like I’m just taking care of things and the moment that they’ll probably rear their ugly heads looms over me like a grim reaper.
As I stared in the mirror, I couldn’t believe my eyes. I looked good, yes. I looked even better than good. I looked stunning. But I didn’t look like myself, and I couldn’t decide whether I found that to be appealing or appalling. I carefully took in all of me, every last drop, and thought.
I was gently holding my broken toy, cradling it’s head that was limply lying a few inches below it’s shoulders, as if it had been knocked backwards by a strong gust of wind and simply didn’t have the strength at that moment to resist it. The eyes stared lazily up at me and I looked at the seams, fiddling with my fretting fingers and flexing my weighted palm, trying to discern my next course of action for my poor, broken friend.
I don’t know if I am fixed or not. Some days it feels as if I am. The sun shines, blue skies, and everything is fine. The next day I am deep within myself and I am broken again. Can I be fixed? Is it a possibility or just an illusion on sunny days. Maybe someday I will find out. Someday.
The dog got fixed last week. Plumbers fix everything from toilets to the kitchen sink. There aren’t many things that cannot be fixed with time.
A motorcycle sits in the garage. Old, oily, and unused. It is a perfect opportunity to have a winter project for some easy summer enjoyment. The wrench time is long and tough due to the nature of the condition and the years sat.
It was hard to say it. The date was fixed in my mind, no matter how hard I tried to remove it. The was set. There was no stopping it. The day I died.
And took the rest of the world with me.
Hah. You and your fixed income. You and your fixed opinions. You and your inability to change. Your fixed astrological sign that denotes your stubbornness, how I don’t care, how if you come with me you will change regardless.
Something. Don’t panic if it hangs behind you. You are free to walk all the paths that your eyes can see. But feel the ground.
Fixed? Fixing is nice, I guess. c: I find enjoyment in fixing things. It helps me work my brain…although it’s not something I do often. Just. Fixing thing is awesome. And all that good stuff – if you haven’t noticed I fail at this.
Fixed my broken heart, you did. Fixed my nightmares, fixed my skewed goals…fixed my soul. Found myself.
Lights will guide you home, and I’ll try to fix you.
Fixed me.
I fixed my broken heart today, with a stabler and some glue. The doctor said it wouldn’t help and that mom and pop will have to send me somewhere if i don’t stop. But ill try again later when I get back. The doctor doesn’t know what he’s talking about. None of them do… They never did.
All was mended but not fixed. I mean the problem could be looked over but not resolved. I don’t think anything would ever be normal again. But that’s tragedy. It leaves things broken,. Always just patched. Not living, existing. There but not present.
my mind, my grades, why are our thoughts so fixed on what we think is right and wrong and good and bad, what’s better, what makes you smart because C’s sure don’t. science is a science and maybe not everyone is meant to have their minds fixed like science does. arguable, science is creative and discovery, an art to some. but not me, so let’s just move on and unfix ourselves.
Wibbly wobboly timely wimey. Yes, certain things are fixed in time. like me writing this. to well, the all beloved you. Let me add a winky face ;). oh baby, thats the spot. well full stop… dot thing. Well I believe our time must end however our love shall continue.
Whew, this is a good one.
I yearn to be fixed in regards to relationships, the future and its ambiguity, my shoulder, my debt that I don’t really feel yet and don’t like that I don’t feel it. . .
I’m also yearning to become a better writer so that I don’t have to use the word ‘yearning’ or any of its conjugations.
Funny, just thought about one more and then the bell goes off. . . and sometimes, you gotta say “Fuck that bell.”
Don’t say “Fuck you, bell.” You’re talking to a computer. . . which, today, isn’t actually that weird, now that I, and now you, realize.
Anyway, one would think that, because I sincerely want an impetus of some sort to get my shit together, I feel like the GAME is ‘fixed,’ if you will. (I worry about my grammar. Weird, right?) Well, that’s incorrect, which is also a weird thing to recognize, because I’m wicked positive. I see the faults, I see the misfortune, I see ex’s that left their mark and I see the fact that ‘uncertainty’ is the only thing I’m certain of these days is bad for business. . . but dammit I feel good.
A moment in time that traps you. It fills you with anxiety. Is it fate? Why fix something that is’t broken? This life has too many adventure to try and hold on to fixed ponts in time. Dr.who reference there. What fills broken?
He could fix anything and everything in that rotting, decrepit house. Give him a hammer and a sunny day, and within hours whole rooms would transform. The yellowing, peeling wallpaper would be gone, and the baseboards painted. The rooms lost their scent of dust and decaying clothes and instead began to smell like fresh cut wood and drying paint. The weeds were pulled, flowers bloomed, and the porch stairs didn’t creak unsteadily whenever I tread upon them. The windows were washed, the whole house illuminated like a lamp, and warm from the afternoon sun. He laboured, and repaired the entirety of that home with his rough mocha-coloured hands. He was a handyman, a fixer. A man who came with scotch tape, and pieced back together the broken. Perhaps thats why he was so drawn to me. I was much better at breaking things. Everything.
But he refused to let me break, held me together in those warm brown eyes. Whenever I faltered, he only smiled, “I can fix that.”
It was fixed.
It wasn’t perfect, but it was fixed.
It worked.
That was all that mattered.
It wasn’t perfect, but it worked. It worked.
And that’s all that matters. It works, I fixed it, and who cares if it’s not perfect.
It works.
Things are fine.
It doesn’t hurt.
Not anymore.
So why, why, do I still feel so empty?
she looks at a girl with the burns in her face, in her arms, in her body. she pities her. but she gives just a hint of a smile and she knows the girl will be better. then, she steps away into the mirror and looks for clothes to wear today.
i wish my head was fixed, it is broken and i have no idea where the parts are to fix it. perhaps i need to just relax, disregard everybody and just think about who i am and what i will be. where my love will be placed and where i will go. to whom shall share my bed and warmth. that’s how i will be fixed , but when will this occur i wonder?
The window’s fixed, Smith yelled down from the top of the ladder. “For how long this time?” Marylin smirked and wiped the sweat from her forehead. While you’re up there, could you put the Christmas decorations up? It’s only eight months early.”
“You’re weird, you know that?”
i fixed the world made peace and love, no saddens was ever seen again. if only this could be rue and i could be got. no one would cry. not with true sorrow id allow love to rain over all
I couldn’t fix the hole in the sky. It kept growing, bigger and larger. I asked for help but was told it couldn’t be fixed. How could it not be fixed? Anything broken can be fixed.
oh no it’s this word again…is there only one word for each day? is that why it’s called one word? makes sense. but i thought it was supposed to be one word, but a different word each time you refresh the browser. guess not. looks like this website needs to be fixed, as in made better :)
fixed. im fixed on someone, and i have never felt this way before! i don’t even know how to explain it in words. I’ve never been so fixed on a boy before, i don’t know what love is but I’m pretty sure it has to feel something like this, i know it does.
My eyes were fixed on it. My eyes were fixed on the thing I wanted most. I’d been working my whole life for this. Nothing could tear my intense gaze away. It was as if the it had a magnetic connection with my eyes. It was absurd, but perfect.
i’m tired of this word. makes me think of the removal of cat testicles this time. that’s weird. cats have barbed penises. that’s even weirder. who cares? people are judging. who cares? i wish you loved me. you do?
who cares.
my stomach hurts. i wish this would go away. hurry up, clock.
people always assume that they need to be fixed. people worry about their flaws, their mistakes, their imperfections. well, the truth is… nobody is perfect. and although you may come across seemingly perfect individuals in your lifetime, the truth is – no one is. everyone has their flaws. you’re beautiful in your own way; and my hope is that one day, everyone realizes their inner beauty.
all together its all done. finished great accomplished together strength patience
i already wrote about this before i signed up. you disappoint me. i disappoint myself. i wish people loved me. i sound like a whiny shit. i want to be like mother theresa. that’s who i want to exude. that nature i mean. i want to love everyone. i want to be a good person that helps. that’s hard being an introvert i think.
I don’t believe that you can really fix anything. You will always see the scars in whatever it is, whether it be a vase that has fallen or a heart that has been broken. The scars will always be visable.
the planets are fixed in their orbit
they have no other option but to circle around the sun for the entirety of their existence
what a beautiful yet disconcerting reality to always know what you are doing, did, and are about to do; knowing your final causality, your purpose
but i rather never be fixed in one place
because movement is beautiful
without motion we would not exist
let me move freely as to experience all that I do not yet know
I wish my life were fixed. There wouldn’t be any problems. Life would be easy. Nothing is every really fixed though, just mended I suppose. Wouldn’t it be easy if our problems were fixed for us? If only…….We can dream though and thats what I’ll do.
I’m fized at zero. Your mind is fixed at anything but happiness. I want to fix that desperately. I need to. Oh god that hurt. That hurt so horribly. I need for it not to. If I want us to work, I need it not to. If i want to help you, i need it not to. i can’t care about you. not this much. oh god
When I think about this word, I think of the negative connotation. I think of something being “fixed” as in a fixed race or a fixed lottery. It’s something that is intervened upon. It’s something dishonest. Something ugly and unnatural. I fixed the race and won a million dollars.
i fixed the door. handymen fix things. bob the builder fixes things. got problems? FIX them. Fix the table, it’s wobbly. Fix your face, it’s frowning. Fix world problems. Fix things with tools and skil.s.
sqreeek! The duct tape complained as Bella wrapped it around her heel to keep her shoe together.
People have no fixed state of consciousness. Humans are every changing beings and are never static. Being dynamic is intrinsic to humanity. In a state such as ours, there is no “fixed”
I don’t remember the last time I felt that I had truly fixed something. Lately, it feels like I’m just taking care of things and the moment that they’ll probably rear their ugly heads looms over me like a grim reaper.
My broken heart will never be fixed,
it’s bee broken beyond repair and those scars will last forever.
As I stared in the mirror, I couldn’t believe my eyes. I looked good, yes. I looked even better than good. I looked stunning. But I didn’t look like myself, and I couldn’t decide whether I found that to be appealing or appalling. I carefully took in all of me, every last drop, and thought.
I was gently holding my broken toy, cradling it’s head that was limply lying a few inches below it’s shoulders, as if it had been knocked backwards by a strong gust of wind and simply didn’t have the strength at that moment to resist it. The eyes stared lazily up at me and I looked at the seams, fiddling with my fretting fingers and flexing my weighted palm, trying to discern my next course of action for my poor, broken friend.