She was perfectly perfect. She knew what she wanted, and she knew how to get it. She didn’t mess around with the small things. I wanted to be her. I wanted to live my life, the way she lived hers. I had no earthly idea how she did it. But she did. And it gave me hope.
She sat there perfectly in the widow sile. Motionless, unable to breathe. She watched as the two men walked solomnly to the door, she feared for the worst.
I am perfectly lost.
What a statement.
But it’s true, somehow.
Perfect doesn’t always mean flawless, I guess. It could mean fully, or completely. Perfectly.
i feel like i have to do things perfectly sometimes. well, i prefer when they are dong perfectly. then i’ll start to never wnat to accept help becuase i feel like when i do it myself, it gets done the right way. this makes me a terrible control freak at times. but there are some things, that, when done perfectly NATURALLY are simply delightful. like the way some bodies fit perfectly together in an embrace.
Every thing was going perfectly for the time being. But, with her past she was just waiting for it all to fall apart. It was how things were supposed to be, she would have it all for the time being and then when it came time her whole world would come crashing down around her. She tried to enjoy what she had at the time but it was quite difficult for her to do when she was always looking over her shoulder for the impending doom.
Perfectly. The art work was displayed perfectly on the bulletin board to be judged and admired by all. Student after student came by and admired the landscape’s colours.
i perfectly feel like writing right now. this is pretty amazing. you know what else is amazing? scott reutter. yep, i said scott reutter. and my sister is acting perfectly retarded right now. yep, i almost sounded like i was from boston. you know, boston, not new york city. i like new york city better. i dont think the accents can sound the same. scott thinks so. sure. not really sure what else to write right now other than the fact that i like the word perfectly. hey, am i still writing here? i do like the word perfectly. huh, this is pretty cool. i wonder who came up with this application, to just write what’s on your mind like this. 60 seconds is a long time when you think about it. a realllllllllly long time. mary had a little lamb, little lamb, little lamb, marry had a little lamb whose fleece was white as my skin.
perfectly balanced a counterweight system. there is no flaw, no imperfection. grace. beauty. being en pointe. smooth, simple, measurable, but only by the heart. There is no right or wrong, there is simply flawed or not. No ink blots, just smooth lines, and crisp definition.
Any way to envison it, it all fell perfectly into places like the pieces of the puzzle finally fit together the second your fingers intertwined with mine. And you’d think I was imagining it all but even after our perfect little romanced faded I could still wake up to see your beautiful face every morning. Its almost insanity, our static condition. And still your fingers intertwine perfectly with mine. If I could look into those eyes one last time id only remember how perfectly your heart laid next to mine
He filled up his flask perfectly, without spilling a single drop of single malt scotch. Taking out his pipe, he sniffed it, inhaling the heady odors of excellent tobacco, then put it away. He was ready for whatever he might face today. He was a man.
Have you ever studied a flower. It is Created Perfectly. from Textures, to colors to the way that it feeds itself and then provides oxygen for us. flowers are amazing.
Nothing is perfect, and I should know. I’ve spent my entire life listening to people tell me how I’ve been doing everything perfectly. But I know the truth. They’re lying. Either that, or they just don’t look closely enough . I’m so flawed, and it hurts so much because I want to be perfect so badly.
He made me fall for him all too well with his quick wit and clever humor, with his incredible logic and his unbelievable intelligence. Fighting it seemed pointless; he takes me places far, far away from here and he is always at my side when I call on him; all I need to do is open the pages of a book, and there he is, ready to take me away. How could I not have fallen for him? It was much too easy. Sherlock Holmes <3
Today was a perfectly fine day. I went to school, did some running, made plans for the weekend, and went home. Nothing extraordinary. I’m afraid that I’m living too many perfectly fine days.
Step by step we try to live this life perfectly. We get lost in society’s views and forget our own image of perfect. So I look at nature a see that as inspiration,
i can’t decide what to write here because i want it to be done perfectly. i wish for each sentence to have balance and grace, but also be surprising. oftentimes, i stop writing for fear of being imperfect, not beautiful.
Simple sweet love, all of these make you perfectly mine. The sun sets, the moon rises, the way the wind speaks freely with the trees. You and me fit perfectly.
a butterly my soul mate treats me perfectly i feel like this world will never be all that perfectly in harmony. i wish everyone lived perfectly cool and like on another. sometimes perfectly is b
he sung it perfectly. not a not flat. then he stopped and looked as though he might cry. “jack, what’s wrong?” his mum asked. “I think I said dog instead of God in the middle!”
“This is FAR from perfect,” she spat, violet eyes lingering on my scars. “You don’t deserve this. No one deserves to suffer through this sort of living nightmare every day of their goddamned lives. Yeah, I know you believe in karma and all of that but come on! You haven’t done a damn thing to deserve what she does to you!”
“Yes I have.”
“Don’t give me that; I know you better than you know yourself, kid. Bottom line, this is far from perfect, and I refuse to put up with it any longer. You shouldn’t either.”
I looked up at her then.
“Maybe that really is the better perspective…”
I am perfectly capable of making a change in my life. I just need to stick with the basics a little longer. Perfectly has never described anything about me or my life and probably never will, I need to be ok with that. It’s perfectly ok to do things the “wrong” way.
It fit perfectly. It was the day she had dreamed of over the last 3 years. The dress, long and white, fit her like a glove. It was the worst day of her life.
Perfect was the wound
so long and fresh
the blood was redder than any rose
colder than snow white’s lips
and as I stared at myself I became aware
that the only thing I had done perfectly was commit
suicide.
I don’t like using the word ‘perfect.’ Personal reasons.
Yet, it seems that the world’s perception of perfection is quite flawed. My life is far from the ideal most expect it to be, and frankly, it’s far from what I’d like it to be as well… but then I stop and think. Would it truly be better that way?
I have suffered, yes. I have seen and felt and known things that I would give almost anything not to have experienced. Yet despite all of the blood and bones and broken hearts, everything seems to be working out… perfectly.
Life’s a funny thing.
“Perfectly executed!” the old man exclaimed in his light British accent, clapping his hands together. The sound reverberated throughout the empty theater, dying down at first but echoing back a few moments later in a chorus of “Perfectly!”s. Even though the praise came from only one man, I basked in it — I was finally ready for the real test tomorrow.
Clean the house. Wash the windows. Wear clean clothes. Study. Plan the classes. Be enthusiastic. Be firm. Be fair. Be informative. Be interesting. Be patient. Listen to their complaints. Discipline well. Cook. Eat healthily. Be friendly. Smile. Remember everyone’s name. Shop in the landlord’s store. Stay in at night. Sleep well.
nothing is ever perfectly. beliebe me. even if you think you got something down pat you dont got it down perfectly. perfectly is the only reminder of mortalness. you meet someone perfectly then, there you have it, the perfecty one for you
perfectly. perfectness. that is what im thinking even though i shouldnt be thinking at all. kitties. perfectly perfect perforated kitten muffs. taste my perfect sock puppets. purrrfect. angles of measurement. arm goo. perfect things. none of those were perfect. alabama. goodnight world.
It fit perfectly into his plans. She was leaving and he needed another so that he could keep living in infatuation. He really did not know what love was, he moved only from high to another. As one faded, he could easily navigate to another.
It was disturbed perfectly. The calmness of the world had never been broken in such a cmplete way. It was being completely ruined right in front of mye eyes, and it was so beautiful. Colorful, like thousand rays of sun striking across my face every second. Mind blowing like nothing ever had been. How could destruction be this great? How could this feel so good?
Probably it was knowing that nothing would ever be again. For anyone. That made my heart leap in my chest. In my last moment to live in this world I wanted to be happy.
I don’t necessarily care for the root of this word…perfect. Nothing is perfect. While so many people search for perfection in every aspect of their life, I am embracing my imperfections, which is what makes a person truly and uniquely beautiful to begin with. Perfection is, to put it simply, boring.
I get to where I’m feeling perfectly miserable. I’m probably just tired and I should go to bed but my toon won’t level itself, there’s warcraft to be played! I’ll feel better soon, slightly.
it’s perfectly perfect to expect perfection, just expect to be disappointed. the only things close to perfectly perfect at things we have no control over, things the gods make. the bird, the bees, the coconut trees. the bridges we burn, the roads we destroy and we never get back.
Perfectly imperfect. That’s how we describe ourselves. We perfect, imperfection. We are the epitome of odd. The definition of imperfect. But we like it that way.
nothing is perfectly perfect, there’s ok, there’s maybe, there’s time, there’s wait, but nothing’s perfectly perfect…the birds and the bees and coconut trees are perfectly simple, the roads are perfectly broken and the bridges are perfectly burned.
She was perfectly perfect. She knew what she wanted, and she knew how to get it. She didn’t mess around with the small things. I wanted to be her. I wanted to live my life, the way she lived hers. I had no earthly idea how she did it. But she did. And it gave me hope.
She sat there perfectly in the widow sile. Motionless, unable to breathe. She watched as the two men walked solomnly to the door, she feared for the worst.
I am perfectly lost.
What a statement.
But it’s true, somehow.
Perfect doesn’t always mean flawless, I guess. It could mean fully, or completely. Perfectly.
Lost in pain.
i feel like i have to do things perfectly sometimes. well, i prefer when they are dong perfectly. then i’ll start to never wnat to accept help becuase i feel like when i do it myself, it gets done the right way. this makes me a terrible control freak at times. but there are some things, that, when done perfectly NATURALLY are simply delightful. like the way some bodies fit perfectly together in an embrace.
Every thing was going perfectly for the time being. But, with her past she was just waiting for it all to fall apart. It was how things were supposed to be, she would have it all for the time being and then when it came time her whole world would come crashing down around her. She tried to enjoy what she had at the time but it was quite difficult for her to do when she was always looking over her shoulder for the impending doom.
Perfectly. The art work was displayed perfectly on the bulletin board to be judged and admired by all. Student after student came by and admired the landscape’s colours.
i perfectly feel like writing right now. this is pretty amazing. you know what else is amazing? scott reutter. yep, i said scott reutter. and my sister is acting perfectly retarded right now. yep, i almost sounded like i was from boston. you know, boston, not new york city. i like new york city better. i dont think the accents can sound the same. scott thinks so. sure. not really sure what else to write right now other than the fact that i like the word perfectly. hey, am i still writing here? i do like the word perfectly. huh, this is pretty cool. i wonder who came up with this application, to just write what’s on your mind like this. 60 seconds is a long time when you think about it. a realllllllllly long time. mary had a little lamb, little lamb, little lamb, marry had a little lamb whose fleece was white as my skin.
perfectly balanced a counterweight system. there is no flaw, no imperfection. grace. beauty. being en pointe. smooth, simple, measurable, but only by the heart. There is no right or wrong, there is simply flawed or not. No ink blots, just smooth lines, and crisp definition.
Any way to envison it, it all fell perfectly into places like the pieces of the puzzle finally fit together the second your fingers intertwined with mine. And you’d think I was imagining it all but even after our perfect little romanced faded I could still wake up to see your beautiful face every morning. Its almost insanity, our static condition. And still your fingers intertwine perfectly with mine. If I could look into those eyes one last time id only remember how perfectly your heart laid next to mine
He filled up his flask perfectly, without spilling a single drop of single malt scotch. Taking out his pipe, he sniffed it, inhaling the heady odors of excellent tobacco, then put it away. He was ready for whatever he might face today. He was a man.
Have you ever studied a flower. It is Created Perfectly. from Textures, to colors to the way that it feeds itself and then provides oxygen for us. flowers are amazing.
laid out clothing; ironed; loving mother; wife; 1950’s; racism; negativity; great fashion; amazing hair
it’s so tiresome to say
your hair falls perfectly
every
day.
alas, there’s nothing but truth
in that simple little sentence.
and it sounds so cliche
but
you’re flawless.
Nothing is perfect, and I should know. I’ve spent my entire life listening to people tell me how I’ve been doing everything perfectly. But I know the truth. They’re lying. Either that, or they just don’t look closely enough . I’m so flawed, and it hurts so much because I want to be perfect so badly.
He made me fall for him all too well with his quick wit and clever humor, with his incredible logic and his unbelievable intelligence. Fighting it seemed pointless; he takes me places far, far away from here and he is always at my side when I call on him; all I need to do is open the pages of a book, and there he is, ready to take me away. How could I not have fallen for him? It was much too easy. Sherlock Holmes <3
Today was a perfectly fine day. I went to school, did some running, made plans for the weekend, and went home. Nothing extraordinary. I’m afraid that I’m living too many perfectly fine days.
Step by step we try to live this life perfectly. We get lost in society’s views and forget our own image of perfect. So I look at nature a see that as inspiration,
i can’t decide what to write here because i want it to be done perfectly. i wish for each sentence to have balance and grace, but also be surprising. oftentimes, i stop writing for fear of being imperfect, not beautiful.
Simple sweet love, all of these make you perfectly mine. The sun sets, the moon rises, the way the wind speaks freely with the trees. You and me fit perfectly.
a butterly my soul mate treats me perfectly i feel like this world will never be all that perfectly in harmony. i wish everyone lived perfectly cool and like on another. sometimes perfectly is b
he sung it perfectly. not a not flat. then he stopped and looked as though he might cry. “jack, what’s wrong?” his mum asked. “I think I said dog instead of God in the middle!”
“This is FAR from perfect,” she spat, violet eyes lingering on my scars. “You don’t deserve this. No one deserves to suffer through this sort of living nightmare every day of their goddamned lives. Yeah, I know you believe in karma and all of that but come on! You haven’t done a damn thing to deserve what she does to you!”
“Yes I have.”
“Don’t give me that; I know you better than you know yourself, kid. Bottom line, this is far from perfect, and I refuse to put up with it any longer. You shouldn’t either.”
I looked up at her then.
“Maybe that really is the better perspective…”
I am perfectly capable of making a change in my life. I just need to stick with the basics a little longer. Perfectly has never described anything about me or my life and probably never will, I need to be ok with that. It’s perfectly ok to do things the “wrong” way.
It fit perfectly. It was the day she had dreamed of over the last 3 years. The dress, long and white, fit her like a glove. It was the worst day of her life.
Perfect was the wound
so long and fresh
the blood was redder than any rose
colder than snow white’s lips
and as I stared at myself I became aware
that the only thing I had done perfectly was commit
suicide.
I don’t like using the word ‘perfect.’ Personal reasons.
Yet, it seems that the world’s perception of perfection is quite flawed. My life is far from the ideal most expect it to be, and frankly, it’s far from what I’d like it to be as well… but then I stop and think. Would it truly be better that way?
I have suffered, yes. I have seen and felt and known things that I would give almost anything not to have experienced. Yet despite all of the blood and bones and broken hearts, everything seems to be working out… perfectly.
Life’s a funny thing.
the beauty of a pair of eyes, perfectly beam right back into mine every day. she’s so beautiful i think she’s perfectly great.
“Perfectly executed!” the old man exclaimed in his light British accent, clapping his hands together. The sound reverberated throughout the empty theater, dying down at first but echoing back a few moments later in a chorus of “Perfectly!”s. Even though the praise came from only one man, I basked in it — I was finally ready for the real test tomorrow.
Clean the house. Wash the windows. Wear clean clothes. Study. Plan the classes. Be enthusiastic. Be firm. Be fair. Be informative. Be interesting. Be patient. Listen to their complaints. Discipline well. Cook. Eat healthily. Be friendly. Smile. Remember everyone’s name. Shop in the landlord’s store. Stay in at night. Sleep well.
nothing is ever perfectly. beliebe me. even if you think you got something down pat you dont got it down perfectly. perfectly is the only reminder of mortalness. you meet someone perfectly then, there you have it, the perfecty one for you
perfectly. perfectness. that is what im thinking even though i shouldnt be thinking at all. kitties. perfectly perfect perforated kitten muffs. taste my perfect sock puppets. purrrfect. angles of measurement. arm goo. perfect things. none of those were perfect. alabama. goodnight world.
Perfectly.Not much things are done like this,perfectly,but rather imperfectly.In some cases that’s what make it perfect for others. :)
It fit perfectly into his plans. She was leaving and he needed another so that he could keep living in infatuation. He really did not know what love was, he moved only from high to another. As one faded, he could easily navigate to another.
It was disturbed perfectly. The calmness of the world had never been broken in such a cmplete way. It was being completely ruined right in front of mye eyes, and it was so beautiful. Colorful, like thousand rays of sun striking across my face every second. Mind blowing like nothing ever had been. How could destruction be this great? How could this feel so good?
Probably it was knowing that nothing would ever be again. For anyone. That made my heart leap in my chest. In my last moment to live in this world I wanted to be happy.
I don’t necessarily care for the root of this word…perfect. Nothing is perfect. While so many people search for perfection in every aspect of their life, I am embracing my imperfections, which is what makes a person truly and uniquely beautiful to begin with. Perfection is, to put it simply, boring.
More rare than leaking filet mignon.
I get to where I’m feeling perfectly miserable. I’m probably just tired and I should go to bed but my toon won’t level itself, there’s warcraft to be played! I’ll feel better soon, slightly.
it’s perfectly perfect to expect perfection, just expect to be disappointed. the only things close to perfectly perfect at things we have no control over, things the gods make. the bird, the bees, the coconut trees. the bridges we burn, the roads we destroy and we never get back.
Perfectly imperfect. That’s how we describe ourselves. We perfect, imperfection. We are the epitome of odd. The definition of imperfect. But we like it that way.
nothing is perfectly perfect, there’s ok, there’s maybe, there’s time, there’s wait, but nothing’s perfectly perfect…the birds and the bees and coconut trees are perfectly simple, the roads are perfectly broken and the bridges are perfectly burned.