The forgotten shopping cart sat on the corner of 54th and Pleasant. Of course the street was ironically named, there was nothing pleasant about it. The only buildings on the street were abandoned. The glass broken out of the windows, the doors chained up, graffiti covering the walls.
I think the world has forgotten just how many amazingly brilliant people there were in the past. Today everyone is just a xeroxed copy of something that once was. Forgotten are the days when originality and creativity were welcomed with a shining sun, verses welcomed with a thousand judging eyes staring at you like insanity has just been personified all because you tried to be a teeny bit different.
There is never a place you can go where you will be forgotten. You have someone who loves you, who will never forget about you, and who will miss you dearly. Don’t you ever feel as though you don’t matter. There is nothing you can do that will make you be forgotten.
So little truth in so frequently spoken words, for we are all forgotten. We have but a hundred years on the Earth – less than a hundred years – and we are nothing in the great scope of the cosmos. Our bodies are birthed from the stars, and, in billions of years, as the universe trickles down to its last stages of darkness, those shreds of dust that were once human beings will fall into black stars with the rest of existence.
Dead in the ground like a withered flower. Along with my bike, my great grandmother and my rabbit, Chuckles. My virginity had left the building. I’d miss the little fella, always there on my shoulder nagging me at parties, happily eating popcorn watching pornos with me and looking for real estate so we could settle down together. I wondered if we’d ever cross paths again. “Shhhh,” he said, putting a finger on my lips “Just go.”
A teddy bear. With a missing eye and stuffing coming out of its arm. Left on a shelf, staring at you day and night. You don’t remember it, but it has never forgotten you. You two used to be best friends. What happened? You have forgotten it.
I am forgotten. I am unknown. LIES!!! And we believe them as if they were our own. LIES!! And we recieve them as if a gift and althought we are not satified we accpect because we will believe that rather than any truth there is. The truth only hurts when you realize how much you’ve believed the lies.
Surely whoever left the device, and exactly what is it? surely whoever left the device would not have forgotten the bottle, which was still half full, or half empty, whatever your take on the world is. Gently laying the device back onto the pile of bones, Jensen thought about a swig.
I have forgotten that today was Sunday. Well not really, but I have forgotten my deepest buried memories from my childhood. Till today. I have tried so hard to forgotten it,because it brings afresh pain so deep that it can do serious pain mentally and emotionally.
forgotten. there is so much that is forgotten. history. my keys. what time i need to get up to get to work on time. yet the latter is what bothers me the most. That is what makes me so angry. That I make the same mistake over and over again and bargain with myself to snooze for a few more minutes. But the fact that we never think about atrocities of the past, that’s just a little irk that I resign myself to.
I felt myself completely forgotten, like a piece of cloth or a toy from years ago. No one really knew when or how I got lost, all they knew was that I was gone.
First of all, I must mention that the song I am listening to this instant said the word “forgotten” as soon as this page loaded. An interesting coincidence! It’s amazing how many things one can forget, and you only realize it after you remember, of course. Books, tv shows, math lessons, experiences shared with friends, the details of which are all easily forgotten. When you somehow recall one of those specific details you’re left thinking, “how did I ever forget that?” Forgetting is what makes remembering worth appreciating.
the child was a forgotten, out of sight, out of mind. a flying mystery, she is simply history. gone and done out for the count, no one loves her, no one remembers her, she is simply forgotten.
there is absolutely nothing worse than being forgotten. to be left alone, tossed aside and just completely, wholly forgotten. it is the epitome of loneliness.
I would never want to be this. When you don’t live freely and act as you please you become this. Frankly I live my life in perfect correspondence with the opposite of this word.
There is so much that isn’t forgotten and our memories surprise us every day – flashing across our minds when we least expect it. Sometimes it is as if we were watching a movie – a slow motion movie of our own lives, full of laughter and tears.
I think I’m being left here alone. Not necessarily on someone else’s terms, but my own. I’ve found myself blessed to the point of being nervous. So I’ve deviated away from what’s good in order to balance out what I believe I deserve in my life.
i have forgotten what it is to remember the little parts of nothingness that continue to follow me to nowhere. and out of my bleakness i am nothing and it is forgotten.
like a rusty red tricycle that the child’s outgrown. The way my grandma’s hands used to smell. The way you looked at me, before you lied. The way his hand used to feel in mine. The color of your eyes when your happy. The way he smelled after a fight. The sunsets back home. The easy way laughter used to come, like the damn holding it back suddenly broke and it all came gushing out, washing us in something clean.
Like so many memories spent walking in the park. Playing catch and napping under a star lit sky. Like so many moments with you, seeking happiness and knowing it was found, there in your heart.
what have i forgotten through out the years more than ive ever know i guess things that i love things that i hated thing that i enjoyed doing but havent in so long
what can i do to remember those long forgotten truths?
i cant but i can cherish what i know now forever more.
the important things that i love to do
the people i care about the people that i dislike
people that i love and that support me through thick and thin
i can support them back
I’d lived that life for 36 years. Not until I saw the star shoot across the sky did I realize I had forgotten my soul’s purpose. She is on a journey. The words echo still.
It sat on the stone, buried near the ruins of a long-forgotten palace. The sun shone on it, the rains fell upon its rounded sides, and still it endured, outliving men and generations of men and Ages of men.
i forgot where i put the landslide of ideas that came crashing in when i saw you. I forgot where i put my heart when you asked for it. I forgot where my head was when i walked away and tried to think of reasons to stay
Forgotten. Lost. Left behind. The last vestiges of ages past.
Sometimes I wonder if there will be anything left to mark humanity’s existence upon the surface of the earth. Or perhaps when we fall into oblivion we will be forgotten by the universe. We are so beautifully insignificant.
Well. This word is pretty fucking perfect for me today. Well, not really. Nobody forgot me. They just don’t care enough to unforget me. Or they can’t. I hate how I make everything about something that like isn’t even in the picture. I hate how I’ve been forgotten by the world. Over and over and over again.
Forgotten are those who once lived upon this earth with such a glory that many would envy their position. But once gone…they are forgotten like if they never existed. This is what life is all about…thats what our fate is.
i have forgotten how it feels like to have a nice warm loving family.
it always as been my fault.
i don’t make efforts, or at least not enough for them to be satisfied about.
i am forgotten.
It was late one Saturday night when I found the chest. There it lay, dusty and forgotten, in the back of my grandmother’s attic. It had a force that pulled my towards it. I wanted to open it.
Don’t let me be forgotten. When we are away, keep me in your dreams and you will be kept in mine, and we will be together through all the hours of the night. Don’t let me be forgotten.
You are not forgotten. Just because you died, doesn’t meant that I don’t remember you. You are alive in my memories of you, and in the parts of my personality that were partially shaped by you. Your contributions to my overall growth and development since I was a small child, all the way through until your passing are a living legacy to your amazing self, Barbara HIney.
She was forgoten. Always forgotten. As a child her family would often forget about her. Forget she exsisted, forget she was unable to feed or care for herself. Thier own wants and needs more important than thier childs. Now she’s grown, and she is still forgotten. Left in the background of life. Never noticed, never spoken to, never seen. Just forgotten. At times she thought that even God had forgotten her. That was, until the day she died and was wrapped in God’s light. It was then that she realized she was never forgotten, but always remembered.
He had forgotten what this feeling of of mystery felt like. He had been here once before and knew not what to expect. Would this help close the door of the past and open a door to a new feature, were the only things he could think of. Only time would tell.
The forgotten shopping cart sat on the corner of 54th and Pleasant. Of course the street was ironically named, there was nothing pleasant about it. The only buildings on the street were abandoned. The glass broken out of the windows, the doors chained up, graffiti covering the walls.
I think the world has forgotten just how many amazingly brilliant people there were in the past. Today everyone is just a xeroxed copy of something that once was. Forgotten are the days when originality and creativity were welcomed with a shining sun, verses welcomed with a thousand judging eyes staring at you like insanity has just been personified all because you tried to be a teeny bit different.
I have forgotten what the meeting is about this morning, or even why we need to meet.
There is never a place you can go where you will be forgotten. You have someone who loves you, who will never forget about you, and who will miss you dearly. Don’t you ever feel as though you don’t matter. There is nothing you can do that will make you be forgotten.
“Gone, but never forgotten.”
So little truth in so frequently spoken words, for we are all forgotten. We have but a hundred years on the Earth – less than a hundred years – and we are nothing in the great scope of the cosmos. Our bodies are birthed from the stars, and, in billions of years, as the universe trickles down to its last stages of darkness, those shreds of dust that were once human beings will fall into black stars with the rest of existence.
Gone, and always forgotten.
Dead in the ground like a withered flower. Along with my bike, my great grandmother and my rabbit, Chuckles. My virginity had left the building. I’d miss the little fella, always there on my shoulder nagging me at parties, happily eating popcorn watching pornos with me and looking for real estate so we could settle down together. I wondered if we’d ever cross paths again. “Shhhh,” he said, putting a finger on my lips “Just go.”
A teddy bear. With a missing eye and stuffing coming out of its arm. Left on a shelf, staring at you day and night. You don’t remember it, but it has never forgotten you. You two used to be best friends. What happened? You have forgotten it.
I am forgotten. I am unknown. LIES!!! And we believe them as if they were our own. LIES!! And we recieve them as if a gift and althought we are not satified we accpect because we will believe that rather than any truth there is. The truth only hurts when you realize how much you’ve believed the lies.
Surely whoever left the device, and exactly what is it? surely whoever left the device would not have forgotten the bottle, which was still half full, or half empty, whatever your take on the world is. Gently laying the device back onto the pile of bones, Jensen thought about a swig.
I have forgotten that today was Sunday. Well not really, but I have forgotten my deepest buried memories from my childhood. Till today. I have tried so hard to forgotten it,because it brings afresh pain so deep that it can do serious pain mentally and emotionally.
forgotten. there is so much that is forgotten. history. my keys. what time i need to get up to get to work on time. yet the latter is what bothers me the most. That is what makes me so angry. That I make the same mistake over and over again and bargain with myself to snooze for a few more minutes. But the fact that we never think about atrocities of the past, that’s just a little irk that I resign myself to.
I felt myself completely forgotten, like a piece of cloth or a toy from years ago. No one really knew when or how I got lost, all they knew was that I was gone.
Guess I have forgotten most of what learned, but it is fin to recall what I used kto know about algebra or syntax and Latin.
First of all, I must mention that the song I am listening to this instant said the word “forgotten” as soon as this page loaded. An interesting coincidence! It’s amazing how many things one can forget, and you only realize it after you remember, of course. Books, tv shows, math lessons, experiences shared with friends, the details of which are all easily forgotten. When you somehow recall one of those specific details you’re left thinking, “how did I ever forget that?” Forgetting is what makes remembering worth appreciating.
the child was a forgotten, out of sight, out of mind. a flying mystery, she is simply history. gone and done out for the count, no one loves her, no one remembers her, she is simply forgotten.
there is absolutely nothing worse than being forgotten. to be left alone, tossed aside and just completely, wholly forgotten. it is the epitome of loneliness.
I would never want to be this. When you don’t live freely and act as you please you become this. Frankly I live my life in perfect correspondence with the opposite of this word.
There is so much that isn’t forgotten and our memories surprise us every day – flashing across our minds when we least expect it. Sometimes it is as if we were watching a movie – a slow motion movie of our own lives, full of laughter and tears.
I think I’m being left here alone. Not necessarily on someone else’s terms, but my own. I’ve found myself blessed to the point of being nervous. So I’ve deviated away from what’s good in order to balance out what I believe I deserve in my life.
i have forgotten what it is to remember the little parts of nothingness that continue to follow me to nowhere. and out of my bleakness i am nothing and it is forgotten.
like a rusty red tricycle that the child’s outgrown. The way my grandma’s hands used to smell. The way you looked at me, before you lied. The way his hand used to feel in mine. The color of your eyes when your happy. The way he smelled after a fight. The sunsets back home. The easy way laughter used to come, like the damn holding it back suddenly broke and it all came gushing out, washing us in something clean.
Like so many memories spent walking in the park. Playing catch and napping under a star lit sky. Like so many moments with you, seeking happiness and knowing it was found, there in your heart.
what have i forgotten through out the years more than ive ever know i guess things that i love things that i hated thing that i enjoyed doing but havent in so long
what can i do to remember those long forgotten truths?
i cant but i can cherish what i know now forever more.
the important things that i love to do
the people i care about the people that i dislike
people that i love and that support me through thick and thin
i can support them back
I’d lived that life for 36 years. Not until I saw the star shoot across the sky did I realize I had forgotten my soul’s purpose. She is on a journey. The words echo still.
It sat on the stone, buried near the ruins of a long-forgotten palace. The sun shone on it, the rains fell upon its rounded sides, and still it endured, outliving men and generations of men and Ages of men.
i forgot where i put the landslide of ideas that came crashing in when i saw you. I forgot where i put my heart when you asked for it. I forgot where my head was when i walked away and tried to think of reasons to stay
Forgotten. Lost. Left behind. The last vestiges of ages past.
Sometimes I wonder if there will be anything left to mark humanity’s existence upon the surface of the earth. Or perhaps when we fall into oblivion we will be forgotten by the universe. We are so beautifully insignificant.
Well. This word is pretty fucking perfect for me today. Well, not really. Nobody forgot me. They just don’t care enough to unforget me. Or they can’t. I hate how I make everything about something that like isn’t even in the picture. I hate how I’ve been forgotten by the world. Over and over and over again.
Forgotten are those who once lived upon this earth with such a glory that many would envy their position. But once gone…they are forgotten like if they never existed. This is what life is all about…thats what our fate is.
When a love is forgotten what do you do? Do you grieve at the loss of this magnificent feeling? Or move on as if it never happened?
what a common feeling, whether it is to feel or experience. The forgotten car keys, the forgotten memories, or feeling forgotten your self.
Abandoned neglected, not available for reference for learning new things by experience… Lost… But able to be remebered, rediscovered…FOUND.
i am not forgotten! the sun shines on me today.
i forgot that i left my mandolin at school. i hope its okay.
Dead but not
forgotten
as you stand in the doorway
waiting for him to return
your soul
is it still alive?
Is he?
Will he remember you
after all this time?
You wait
and wait
and wait
remembering
and seeing clearer than before.
i have forgotten how it feels like to have a nice warm loving family.
it always as been my fault.
i don’t make efforts, or at least not enough for them to be satisfied about.
i am forgotten.
It was late one Saturday night when I found the chest. There it lay, dusty and forgotten, in the back of my grandmother’s attic. It had a force that pulled my towards it. I wanted to open it.
Don’t let me be forgotten. When we are away, keep me in your dreams and you will be kept in mine, and we will be together through all the hours of the night. Don’t let me be forgotten.
You are not forgotten. Just because you died, doesn’t meant that I don’t remember you. You are alive in my memories of you, and in the parts of my personality that were partially shaped by you. Your contributions to my overall growth and development since I was a small child, all the way through until your passing are a living legacy to your amazing self, Barbara HIney.
She was forgoten. Always forgotten. As a child her family would often forget about her. Forget she exsisted, forget she was unable to feed or care for herself. Thier own wants and needs more important than thier childs. Now she’s grown, and she is still forgotten. Left in the background of life. Never noticed, never spoken to, never seen. Just forgotten. At times she thought that even God had forgotten her. That was, until the day she died and was wrapped in God’s light. It was then that she realized she was never forgotten, but always remembered.
He had forgotten what this feeling of of mystery felt like. He had been here once before and knew not what to expect. Would this help close the door of the past and open a door to a new feature, were the only things he could think of. Only time would tell.