i pressed the sponge against the table to get the water out of it. when i went hunting i squeezed the trigger and the bullet pressed into the animals heart.
Your over dramatization of the weekend’s event over the phone made it such that there was no room left for anyone else to feel anything. You are talented. Because you did this over the phone, while I sat in the luxury of my own room, almost three hundred miles away from you.
She was pressed for time as she scribbled here and there. It was chaotic, but beautiful – each line a purpose, but not a direct representation. She smudged the charcoal across the page, erased whole areas and restarted. With black hands she touched her face and looked down at her shirt. A beautiful mess, both on the paper and within herself.
this really makes me think of newspapers. i quite like newspapers. i don’t want them to go out of fashion, i particularly love the comics. you can’t read comics online. its just no possible. it kind of makes me hate the internet. i honestly don’t understand how you can find you news online. it’s just all of us are pressed for time now, so the internet is the only way for us to find out about the news. it quite sad we no longer have time for learning about our fellow humans. we are losing our humanity while we are attempting to connect with as many people as possible.
pressed like a slice of cheese between two buttered slices of bread. grease spits as the butter hits the hot pan. the smell of melted cheese fills my nostrils. lunch is almost ready.
i feel like im deep under the water. My heart is beating very hard and i can’t breathe. What am i going to do? where can i get out? I dont know. Then I see some light from above. Some light that makes my me calm and makes me feel like i can reach the top of the world.
I closed my eyes and tried not to scream. There was a knife pressed against my throat and the person holding it was relentless. A whisper that sent chills through me said, “Miss me, Alexa?” I let out a stifled sob and tried to keep calm. He hadn’t forgotten me, just like he said. He would kill me the same way he killed the others. Accepting this, I said, “Just do it,” and I waited.
He pressed himself against me and I could feel my heart begin to race. i love the way his body feels against mine, the surge of energy that takes over me. i just want to pull him in as close to me as possible, breathe him in and let him live inside my heart become apart of my soul.
A pressed lemon got squished by a vagina. When the vagina is hungry, they eat lemons because they are yummy. And it makes babies. And stalks like lemons cause they’re cool and give birth to babies, also willies like them too. Yes they do. Byeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeee
My emotions feel pressed, and slammed into a tiny box where label after label is placed on them. Angry, sad, mad, excited, passionate, confused. Even look at the emotions I chose to put first, it only goes to show the negativity within myself.
against someone with your entire body just into theirs and your breath synchronized with love and never wanting to let go and just feeling nothing but happy and peaceful and never imagining anything different.
She pressed her nose to the window, as if she could become part of the scene if she just got a little closer. Inside, the family of five ate and laughed completely oblivous to her stares.
I’m pressed for time and pressed for solutions to problems I don’t always know I have. The time issue is one I’ve been dealing with longer than I can remember. Even now, the gong is waiting to sound, and I’ll be pressed to finish up my last sentence.
I’m pressed for time but still find time to waste it. We say we don’t have enough time in the day but if I were to use every minute of my day “productively,” it would kill me. I’ll live my life goofing off sometimes, pressed or not.
‘im am depressed the girl’ screamed out at the top of her lungs as she tried to learn her leaving cert irish poerty. ‘i have no life and why do i need this stuff anyways? when am i ever going to need to interperate what the meaning of a poem in irish is? what obstical am i going to come across where that has to be done?’
I’m pressed for time but still find time to waste. We say we don’t have enough time in the day but if I used every minute of my day “productively,” it would kill me. I’ll live my life goofing of sometimes.
Se echa en la cama, se pone sus audífonos y prende su iPod. “I wanna wish you well” escucha por los auriculares, un sutil voz que le canta a alguien que se ha ido. “I didn’t watch you go”, no puede evitar pensar en la noche anterior. La llamada. La voz alterada de su madre que entre hipos y sollozos le comunica que Matthew había muerto. El velorio. Y ahora el funeral. “I will remember you”, se lleva una mano al rostro y siente como las lágrimas se acumulan en sus ojos, le duele pero no quiere dejarlas fluir. “Not the way you left…”, no debió haber sido así como terminara todo. Se preguntaba el por qué, pero era imposible obtener una respuesta.
“… but how you lived and what you knew.”
Presiona por unos segundos el botón play en su iPod y espera a que este se apague. Estúpida canción. Estúpido Matthew.
Too many emotions for the physical touch to overwhelm and that is how he knew it was deep. She needed him near her, and even just to hold her hand would be a delight. Maybe they were young but neither needed more then necessary… I crawled over beside her for a warm embrace and she grabbed my face and pressed her lips to mine, alas they breathed.
Im constantly feeling pressed. Pressed to death with stones on my chest. What does it mean to be an artist? What the fuck was I thinking getting a degree in Fine Arts? I have something to say, no one to listen. Pressed.
Thime was running out. I stood next to the hangman. He was clad in black, a hood over his head, I knew he was grinning though. I was known for my escapes. People came from miles around to see me get out of the stickiest situations. I knew I didn’t have much time left and I had nothing.
white ornabges are under pressure and they are not happy. will they manage to bvreak free? are red oranges liking it? who is to blame? will they sllep tonioght?
I pressed my test down on the desk after Spencer had crumbled it up in a ball and thrown it in the trash can with Stephen standing next to him laughing and cheering him on. I was so mad, so i went over to Clara’s desk and crumbled up her paper, but then she became mad, and crumbled up Maya’s paper, who then crumbled up Tea’s paper. While, looks like we won’t have to take the test now!
I pressed each letter onto the paper
with a delicate turn of the handle
and watched as the bee flew again
and again into the window screen
trying ever harder to escape the place
that is all too familiar to you and I
I pressed the red button and than I went into cyberspace. Flying sheep swirled around me. Astronauts wondered how I could breathe. The man on the moon talked to me. Than I woke up.
The dew drops pressed against the window as if they wanted to get it. ‘Must be lonely’, she thought softly to herself, before she pulled the trigger on the loaded gun. Her last thought was that of irony.
That was how he always wore it. The cut, the fold, the crease. Just like the end of days, nothing was ever so certain as the way he would walk in the door looking like he was printed on glossy paper. The personality matched as well, and therein lied the real problem
Pressed hard to think of an answer, the only thing that could possibly cross her lips was, “Yes”. To possibilities, to dreams, to hopes, sadness and failures to learn from. Yes to life in all the good and not so good that created who she was at that moment, able to say, “Yes”.
She pressed the soft inner flesh of the orange against the rotating mound of the juicer. Her knuckles were white. She was standing on the tips of her toes. And the bangs she had just tucked behind her left ear fell in front of her eyes. The juice flowed through the built-in strainer and into the collection glass, ready to be consumed by our hungry little monsters (the children). It was 9am on Saturday morning. Our family was together. There were no youth sporting events or men’s golf leagues to attend. It was just the four of us sitting on the plush pillows of our kitchen nook, eating pancakes and fresh-squeezed orange juice while watching the rain trickle down outside.
I pressed the key.I also pressed lots of buttons.Some buttons arent made to be pressed.I figured that out the hard way.Haha.It is fun pressing buttons.
You have just pressed the self-destruct button. Prepare for explosion in 5, 4, 3, 2, 1. Bye bye!! I screamed as I flew through the air amazed I was still alive. As I somehow fell on a bunch of matresses.
I was pressed against the hard and cold rock of the Antarctic polar ice caps. I hated it it was the worst feeling.
i pressed the sponge against the table to get the water out of it. when i went hunting i squeezed the trigger and the bullet pressed into the animals heart.
Your over dramatization of the weekend’s event over the phone made it such that there was no room left for anyone else to feel anything. You are talented. Because you did this over the phone, while I sat in the luxury of my own room, almost three hundred miles away from you.
pressed, pressure sixty second pressure. constricted space. apples and other fruit. pressed firm
She was pressed for time as she scribbled here and there. It was chaotic, but beautiful – each line a purpose, but not a direct representation. She smudged the charcoal across the page, erased whole areas and restarted. With black hands she touched her face and looked down at her shirt. A beautiful mess, both on the paper and within herself.
this really makes me think of newspapers. i quite like newspapers. i don’t want them to go out of fashion, i particularly love the comics. you can’t read comics online. its just no possible. it kind of makes me hate the internet. i honestly don’t understand how you can find you news online. it’s just all of us are pressed for time now, so the internet is the only way for us to find out about the news. it quite sad we no longer have time for learning about our fellow humans. we are losing our humanity while we are attempting to connect with as many people as possible.
pressed like a slice of cheese between two buttered slices of bread. grease spits as the butter hits the hot pan. the smell of melted cheese fills my nostrils. lunch is almost ready.
i feel like im deep under the water. My heart is beating very hard and i can’t breathe. What am i going to do? where can i get out? I dont know. Then I see some light from above. Some light that makes my me calm and makes me feel like i can reach the top of the world.
i’ve been feeling pressed lately by the society needs, in a world which i find has lost its north.
I closed my eyes and tried not to scream. There was a knife pressed against my throat and the person holding it was relentless. A whisper that sent chills through me said, “Miss me, Alexa?” I let out a stifled sob and tried to keep calm. He hadn’t forgotten me, just like he said. He would kill me the same way he killed the others. Accepting this, I said, “Just do it,” and I waited.
He pressed himself against me and I could feel my heart begin to race. i love the way his body feels against mine, the surge of energy that takes over me. i just want to pull him in as close to me as possible, breathe him in and let him live inside my heart become apart of my soul.
The pressed fabric wrinkled under her cheek as she turned her head to the side. “Where are you going?”
The muscles in his jaw clenched.
A pressed lemon got squished by a vagina. When the vagina is hungry, they eat lemons because they are yummy. And it makes babies. And stalks like lemons cause they’re cool and give birth to babies, also willies like them too. Yes they do. Byeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeee
My emotions feel pressed, and slammed into a tiny box where label after label is placed on them. Angry, sad, mad, excited, passionate, confused. Even look at the emotions I chose to put first, it only goes to show the negativity within myself.
against someone with your entire body just into theirs and your breath synchronized with love and never wanting to let go and just feeling nothing but happy and peaceful and never imagining anything different.
She pressed her nose to the window, as if she could become part of the scene if she just got a little closer. Inside, the family of five ate and laughed completely oblivous to her stares.
I’m pressed for time and pressed for solutions to problems I don’t always know I have. The time issue is one I’ve been dealing with longer than I can remember. Even now, the gong is waiting to sound, and I’ll be pressed to finish up my last sentence.
For time.
For juice.
For answers.
For love.
For sex.
For money.
For wrinkle free clothes.
what is this?
why is there a bar moving across the bottom of the screen?
asl;kfha;l;lkdshflkfdlsadk;hkdflkahfdslkdkkfjffkkjfkfdkffklkjfkjjflkfkfkflkjfkfkflkkfkjflkjflkjf.
i really don’t know what this is. am i supposed to talk about the word up there? well it’s “pressed.”
I’m pressed for time but still find time to waste it. We say we don’t have enough time in the day but if I were to use every minute of my day “productively,” it would kill me. I’ll live my life goofing off sometimes, pressed or not.
‘im am depressed the girl’ screamed out at the top of her lungs as she tried to learn her leaving cert irish poerty. ‘i have no life and why do i need this stuff anyways? when am i ever going to need to interperate what the meaning of a poem in irish is? what obstical am i going to come across where that has to be done?’
I’m pressed for time but still find time to waste. We say we don’t have enough time in the day but if I used every minute of my day “productively,” it would kill me. I’ll live my life goofing of sometimes.
Se echa en la cama, se pone sus audífonos y prende su iPod. “I wanna wish you well” escucha por los auriculares, un sutil voz que le canta a alguien que se ha ido. “I didn’t watch you go”, no puede evitar pensar en la noche anterior. La llamada. La voz alterada de su madre que entre hipos y sollozos le comunica que Matthew había muerto. El velorio. Y ahora el funeral. “I will remember you”, se lleva una mano al rostro y siente como las lágrimas se acumulan en sus ojos, le duele pero no quiere dejarlas fluir. “Not the way you left…”, no debió haber sido así como terminara todo. Se preguntaba el por qué, pero era imposible obtener una respuesta.
“… but how you lived and what you knew.”
Presiona por unos segundos el botón play en su iPod y espera a que este se apague. Estúpida canción. Estúpido Matthew.
Too many emotions for the physical touch to overwhelm and that is how he knew it was deep. She needed him near her, and even just to hold her hand would be a delight. Maybe they were young but neither needed more then necessary… I crawled over beside her for a warm embrace and she grabbed my face and pressed her lips to mine, alas they breathed.
“I don’t know what to do.”
I held my breath.
“I need your help.”
I frowned.
“Save me.”
I heard them cry.
All their woes
pressed
upon me.
Im constantly feeling pressed. Pressed to death with stones on my chest. What does it mean to be an artist? What the fuck was I thinking getting a degree in Fine Arts? I have something to say, no one to listen. Pressed.
Thime was running out. I stood next to the hangman. He was clad in black, a hood over his head, I knew he was grinning though. I was known for my escapes. People came from miles around to see me get out of the stickiest situations. I knew I didn’t have much time left and I had nothing.
white ornabges are under pressure and they are not happy. will they manage to bvreak free? are red oranges liking it? who is to blame? will they sllep tonioght?
I pressed my test down on the desk after Spencer had crumbled it up in a ball and thrown it in the trash can with Stephen standing next to him laughing and cheering him on. I was so mad, so i went over to Clara’s desk and crumbled up her paper, but then she became mad, and crumbled up Maya’s paper, who then crumbled up Tea’s paper. While, looks like we won’t have to take the test now!
I pressed each letter onto the paper
with a delicate turn of the handle
and watched as the bee flew again
and again into the window screen
trying ever harder to escape the place
that is all too familiar to you and I
I pressed the red button and than I went into cyberspace. Flying sheep swirled around me. Astronauts wondered how I could breathe. The man on the moon talked to me. Than I woke up.
The dew drops pressed against the window as if they wanted to get it. ‘Must be lonely’, she thought softly to herself, before she pulled the trigger on the loaded gun. Her last thought was that of irony.
That was how he always wore it. The cut, the fold, the crease. Just like the end of days, nothing was ever so certain as the way he would walk in the door looking like he was printed on glossy paper. The personality matched as well, and therein lied the real problem
Pressed hard to think of an answer, the only thing that could possibly cross her lips was, “Yes”. To possibilities, to dreams, to hopes, sadness and failures to learn from. Yes to life in all the good and not so good that created who she was at that moment, able to say, “Yes”.
people today are pressed for a lot of reasons, there are son mych
She pressed the soft inner flesh of the orange against the rotating mound of the juicer. Her knuckles were white. She was standing on the tips of her toes. And the bangs she had just tucked behind her left ear fell in front of her eyes. The juice flowed through the built-in strainer and into the collection glass, ready to be consumed by our hungry little monsters (the children). It was 9am on Saturday morning. Our family was together. There were no youth sporting events or men’s golf leagues to attend. It was just the four of us sitting on the plush pillows of our kitchen nook, eating pancakes and fresh-squeezed orange juice while watching the rain trickle down outside.
I pressed the key.I also pressed lots of buttons.Some buttons arent made to be pressed.I figured that out the hard way.Haha.It is fun pressing buttons.
Pressed is a word that is in past tense. It is stating that you already have click or pushed down something.
the cute cat pressed against the couch she pressed against the chair the table the door and the floor
You have just pressed the self-destruct button. Prepare for explosion in 5, 4, 3, 2, 1. Bye bye!! I screamed as I flew through the air amazed I was still alive. As I somehow fell on a bunch of matresses.