Hard to do sometimes. Easier than one would like in others. The things that I would like to relate to I often can’t, and sometimes it’s easier to relate to the bad things that are happening to other people. Bad, of course, being a relative term. What we perceive as bad is usually not even close.
relate to everything. relate everything to everything else. how does it all fit? where does it all fit? You can’t know, but you’ll always want to. It’ll drive you mad.
Find someone. relate to them.
It’s enough.
to one another, allow yourself to connect with someone else…. whether there are similarities or not. relate, have compassion and extend yourself beyond the norm. Transcend your spiritual boundaries and just relate.
She was thin and unhealthy. The hunger had driven her out into the night. Her pale skin seemed to glow in the night. The chill wind blew through the forest of trees that surrounded the pair.
He was lean, blond, and dying. His rusty red stained the corner of his mouth. He’d coughed up blood. The injury to his side would be the death of him.
They met eyes. Hers, an unnatural electric blue and his a dull green. There was no love. No mercy. No pity. However, they both understood.
“We relate to each other. Because we’re related…get it?” He asks and she snorts into her drink and rolls her eyes. “We can’t be related. You’re an idiot.” “Then I got the looks and you got the brains.”
Relate. I know what it means, but sometimes I like to re-imagine words. Relate, for example looks like the prefix “re” attached to the root “late”.
Instead of saying, “Ms. Smith you are tardy again.” One could simply say “You’re relate.”
relation? something relating to each other. They have a great relationship together but sometimes a little argument here and there. Generally they are great. How can you relate this incident to that one?
Everyone can relate to each other in some way or another. We all may have the same color hair or eyes, some people own the same outfit, the same bag or shoes. Some of us may have the same background as others, we may have gone through the same story. Everyone says everyone is different, but we all naturally are alike, but we either try so hard to be unique and away from everyone else, or we try so hard to relate. But everyone always relates in the end.
I know how she feels. She thinks she’s the only one. She thinks that no one knows what she is feeling; what she is going through. She’s not the only woman to have been cast aside. She’s not the only woman to have turned 50 and felt all alone. She’s not the only one that can relate to being single.
I can relate to people that have to work hard in order to get what they want. I know the value of a dollar. I can’t stand spoiled college or hugh school kids that get cars just handed to them and blow through money like its toilet paper. It’s not a jealousy thing it’s just something that I don’t understand. I am proud to know the value of money and how hard some people work for their needs and wants.
Relate this to that. I don’t care how, just make it fit. Make things up. Put the circle block in the triangle hole. In fact, cover every available surface with triangles while you’re at it. Everything is related if you try hard enough.
all things in a row on a plane with nothing more than well nothing less than one thing that brings them together – all have one or part of one that joins and leads or follows and draws. learning growing and having things in common.
Even though we are so different, I can relate. I know we have both felt the same feelings, thought the same thoughts at some point. And even though you don’t feel like you can relate to me, it’s okay. I know of your intentions. You don’t want to delve below the surface. You want everything at surface level, everything to be plastic. But I can even relate to that.
tumbling over piles of washing
fretting over what to cook for dinner
trying to get onto the bank and speak to a real person
hating the washing machine that’s started leaking
hoping to get the kids to cricket practice on time
can you relate?
WTF! She cried into her all to empty car. Her company was simply a loosely tossed purse on the passenger seat and an assortment of diet soda bottles on the backseat floor. She screamed into the emptiness. Her hands ran through her long red hair and spilled into the air. She wanted to shake her fist, punch and react. She was paralyzed. Her hands shook, trembled and she began to cry. Soft little sobs, like a puppy wounded. She never knew pain like this before and it stung in her veins, throbbed in her tembles and pierced her heart like one of those knives her mother kept on display in her picture perfect kitchen. What irony. That kitchen was never used. She grew up eating take out or meals fed by her friends mothers. They moved often enough that noone could notice noone was around to care for her, make sure she slept, ate and got to bed early. She clung to the family life of her outer circle and never exposed her tru life to anyone. She never knew what it meant to be a part of a family, the day to day activities that made you who you were and how one family member could relate to one another.
I’ve been wanting to give my parents empty nest syndrome. They’ve not had the privilege yet. I want to spread the newly feathered wings that I have had held close, and become the one that brings home the worm to open mouths. For right now I am in between shell and sky.
Can you relate to this? I once had to fight off a horde of ticked off soccer moms for the final seat at a game, only to realize I was at the wrong match. The one I wanted was on the outskirts of town. I had to sit through the last half of the correct game with a broken pinky and bleary maced-prayed eyes.
I always think about relating everything i do to someone who is famous or really succesfull in the hopes that maybe if i do what i think they did ill become really famous and succesfull :D
Relate
What I value in life, is the interaction between myself and those in my circle of influence. How positive or negative that interaction is depends on how we relate to one another. I attempt to be a source of positive energy. I feel miserable when I fail in that regard.
i am related to lots of people some people i havent even meet like magde but she sends me two dollar bills on my birthday. Then theres people i am not related to but relate to like friends.
“I can’t relate to you, you’re too far gone, too drowned to be rescued. And it’s sad, because I knew you once before: Before you came unglued.” He shook his head and shifted his foot a bit.
I backspaced. I broke the rules. I couldn’t bear to reread what I’d written.
To relate to you. It’s what we seek, maybe. A connection. A thin, shining white string tying together us stars, floating in the black, ednless universe
Relating to somebody. Relating to family. Relating to others. Relating to strangers. Hearing strangers’ stories. Discoveries. Discovering other stories. I don’t really like talking about myself, I prefer hearing about others. I like other stories. I like riddles. I like to relate to riddles.
the first leaf to turn its brilliant green into a scarlet hinted with orange tones understands me. she and i are one soul coming together to create part of what i love and who i am. my soul has so many bits and pieces. the little sea star with his unadvanced eyes (compared to that of a humans) sees things in blurs of black and white. it has to real brain or circulatory system. it gets chewed up and spit back out my its neighbors but always manages to regrow itself whole again. the littlest sea star, feeling it’s way through the world with his small suckers on his underside. yes, the sea star is a part of me and i relate to him completely.
I am embarrassed to say that I’m related to him. He’s my cousin, yes, but when he starts jamming pencils up his nose and proclaiming his love for Naruto, it makes me want to die. I almost always just stay silent when the dreaded question is asked : Are you related to that creep?
I feel like i can’t really relate to this feeling. like i like you. you like me. but im off my game. why am i such a control freak like i have to set the tone and play my sexy little games to make you beg. but idk why, i get so giddy around you. and im not intimidated by you and yet here i am like this . fuck i like yuou. i want you ,.but i cant i feel like i cant right now. not
“Oh you like your Mom,” they’d say, smiling in that all-knowing smile. They think I’m the same as her, they think that my looks and my personality are just a younger mirror of her. I don’t hate Mom, but I’m NOT her.
She may be related to me, and I love her dearly, but she is NOT me.
Trying to find a way to relate to her. Maybe I should change my hair style. Or color. Or catch up on the Japanese comic books the kids read, where the words go up and down. Or tuck into a box of Ring Dings — she lives for Ring Dings.
we relate to people evry day. At work, at school, in the street, evrywhere. every new person we meet requires us to relate to them in some way; any way. We may like it or we may not but by the time we die we have probably related with about one fifth of the world’s population.
I relate to the world through the paint that pours off of my brush. My strokes are my words, and screams. My love, my hate. My struggle, my passion. It is my secret place to sort out all of the things that pester us all, and a voice to silently proclaim it.
He couldn’t say he could relate to what she goes through every day.
She lost Luke, her adopted big brother, to an evil Titan Lord out for revenge.
She lost Thalia, her adopted big sister, who turned into a tree. When she did come back, she left with Artemis’ hunters.
She lost her father to a step-mother that despised her for a while.
She almost lost him numerous times.
How was he supposed to compare to that?
He had a mother that cared for him, that had always been there for him through thick and thin. He had almost lost her once, but he had gotten her back and hadn’t lost her since.
He didn’t have any siblings, not even adopted ones, unless you counted the other campers not from his cabin at camp.
Though in all that time, the one time he had lost her, the girl of his dreams, she had bounced right back, and she had had his back ever since.
to connect something to something else. Relative, is a word with relate as its root word. It starts with an R. And ends with an E. Cool huh. I dunno what else to write, because I don’t really have many thoughts on this word. I’m gay.
I am related to my mother and I have no toes. I was pulled out of her uterus with salad tongs gripping my head. Then, they put me on the salad and poured Ranch dressing all over me. They sprinkled me with croutons and nibbled my toes. That is how I am related to my mom and have no toes.
I can relate to so many different things that sometimes it feels like hardly anyone can relate to me. People fall into categories – they like this or they like that. My inspiration comes from so many different streams of thought and I feel like it scares people away. But any time I try to limit it or fit it into a box I wind up losing something in the process.
I don’t think I can relate to anyone.
Everyone seems to be the same.
I only seem to be the oddball in my group of friends.
I don’t really mind.
Actually, I love being myself.
I can relate to my own self.
My own struggles.
My own journey.
I can relate.
Relate means to put two and two together. is two and two even the right twos to use? i have no clue. Relate? is relate related to relationships? i wonder what the origin of the word is? i dont know what the studying of orgins of words is called. but i think its cool. relate rhymes with masturbate. when is this 60 seconds up?
Hard to do sometimes. Easier than one would like in others. The things that I would like to relate to I often can’t, and sometimes it’s easier to relate to the bad things that are happening to other people. Bad, of course, being a relative term. What we perceive as bad is usually not even close.
“I can relate.” I can always relate.
relate to everything. relate everything to everything else. how does it all fit? where does it all fit? You can’t know, but you’ll always want to. It’ll drive you mad.
Find someone. relate to them.
It’s enough.
to one another, allow yourself to connect with someone else…. whether there are similarities or not. relate, have compassion and extend yourself beyond the norm. Transcend your spiritual boundaries and just relate.
She was thin and unhealthy. The hunger had driven her out into the night. Her pale skin seemed to glow in the night. The chill wind blew through the forest of trees that surrounded the pair.
He was lean, blond, and dying. His rusty red stained the corner of his mouth. He’d coughed up blood. The injury to his side would be the death of him.
They met eyes. Hers, an unnatural electric blue and his a dull green. There was no love. No mercy. No pity. However, they both understood.
They could relate.
“We relate to each other. Because we’re related…get it?” He asks and she snorts into her drink and rolls her eyes. “We can’t be related. You’re an idiot.” “Then I got the looks and you got the brains.”
Relate. I know what it means, but sometimes I like to re-imagine words. Relate, for example looks like the prefix “re” attached to the root “late”.
Instead of saying, “Ms. Smith you are tardy again.” One could simply say “You’re relate.”
relation? something relating to each other. They have a great relationship together but sometimes a little argument here and there. Generally they are great. How can you relate this incident to that one?
Everyone can relate to each other in some way or another. We all may have the same color hair or eyes, some people own the same outfit, the same bag or shoes. Some of us may have the same background as others, we may have gone through the same story. Everyone says everyone is different, but we all naturally are alike, but we either try so hard to be unique and away from everyone else, or we try so hard to relate. But everyone always relates in the end.
I know how she feels. She thinks she’s the only one. She thinks that no one knows what she is feeling; what she is going through. She’s not the only woman to have been cast aside. She’s not the only woman to have turned 50 and felt all alone. She’s not the only one that can relate to being single.
I can relate to people that have to work hard in order to get what they want. I know the value of a dollar. I can’t stand spoiled college or hugh school kids that get cars just handed to them and blow through money like its toilet paper. It’s not a jealousy thing it’s just something that I don’t understand. I am proud to know the value of money and how hard some people work for their needs and wants.
Relate this to that. I don’t care how, just make it fit. Make things up. Put the circle block in the triangle hole. In fact, cover every available surface with triangles while you’re at it. Everything is related if you try hard enough.
all things in a row on a plane with nothing more than well nothing less than one thing that brings them together – all have one or part of one that joins and leads or follows and draws. learning growing and having things in common.
Even though we are so different, I can relate. I know we have both felt the same feelings, thought the same thoughts at some point. And even though you don’t feel like you can relate to me, it’s okay. I know of your intentions. You don’t want to delve below the surface. You want everything at surface level, everything to be plastic. But I can even relate to that.
tumbling over piles of washing
fretting over what to cook for dinner
trying to get onto the bank and speak to a real person
hating the washing machine that’s started leaking
hoping to get the kids to cricket practice on time
can you relate?
it is to cope up with something
It starts with the letter r
It ends with the letter e
It is then word given to me
I don’t know what to say anymore I can’t relate.
WTF! She cried into her all to empty car. Her company was simply a loosely tossed purse on the passenger seat and an assortment of diet soda bottles on the backseat floor. She screamed into the emptiness. Her hands ran through her long red hair and spilled into the air. She wanted to shake her fist, punch and react. She was paralyzed. Her hands shook, trembled and she began to cry. Soft little sobs, like a puppy wounded. She never knew pain like this before and it stung in her veins, throbbed in her tembles and pierced her heart like one of those knives her mother kept on display in her picture perfect kitchen. What irony. That kitchen was never used. She grew up eating take out or meals fed by her friends mothers. They moved often enough that noone could notice noone was around to care for her, make sure she slept, ate and got to bed early. She clung to the family life of her outer circle and never exposed her tru life to anyone. She never knew what it meant to be a part of a family, the day to day activities that made you who you were and how one family member could relate to one another.
I’ve been wanting to give my parents empty nest syndrome. They’ve not had the privilege yet. I want to spread the newly feathered wings that I have had held close, and become the one that brings home the worm to open mouths. For right now I am in between shell and sky.
Can you relate to this? I once had to fight off a horde of ticked off soccer moms for the final seat at a game, only to realize I was at the wrong match. The one I wanted was on the outskirts of town. I had to sit through the last half of the correct game with a broken pinky and bleary maced-prayed eyes.
I always think about relating everything i do to someone who is famous or really succesfull in the hopes that maybe if i do what i think they did ill become really famous and succesfull :D
Relate
What I value in life, is the interaction between myself and those in my circle of influence. How positive or negative that interaction is depends on how we relate to one another. I attempt to be a source of positive energy. I feel miserable when I fail in that regard.
i am related to lots of people some people i havent even meet like magde but she sends me two dollar bills on my birthday. Then theres people i am not related to but relate to like friends.
“I can’t relate to you, you’re too far gone, too drowned to be rescued. And it’s sad, because I knew you once before: Before you came unglued.” He shook his head and shifted his foot a bit.
I backspaced. I broke the rules. I couldn’t bear to reread what I’d written.
To relate to you. It’s what we seek, maybe. A connection. A thin, shining white string tying together us stars, floating in the black, ednless universe
Relating to somebody. Relating to family. Relating to others. Relating to strangers. Hearing strangers’ stories. Discoveries. Discovering other stories. I don’t really like talking about myself, I prefer hearing about others. I like other stories. I like riddles. I like to relate to riddles.
the first leaf to turn its brilliant green into a scarlet hinted with orange tones understands me. she and i are one soul coming together to create part of what i love and who i am. my soul has so many bits and pieces. the little sea star with his unadvanced eyes (compared to that of a humans) sees things in blurs of black and white. it has to real brain or circulatory system. it gets chewed up and spit back out my its neighbors but always manages to regrow itself whole again. the littlest sea star, feeling it’s way through the world with his small suckers on his underside. yes, the sea star is a part of me and i relate to him completely.
I am embarrassed to say that I’m related to him. He’s my cousin, yes, but when he starts jamming pencils up his nose and proclaiming his love for Naruto, it makes me want to die. I almost always just stay silent when the dreaded question is asked : Are you related to that creep?
i can relate to no one and everyone. i see things many ways.
I feel like i can’t really relate to this feeling. like i like you. you like me. but im off my game. why am i such a control freak like i have to set the tone and play my sexy little games to make you beg. but idk why, i get so giddy around you. and im not intimidated by you and yet here i am like this . fuck i like yuou. i want you ,.but i cant i feel like i cant right now. not
“Oh you like your Mom,” they’d say, smiling in that all-knowing smile. They think I’m the same as her, they think that my looks and my personality are just a younger mirror of her. I don’t hate Mom, but I’m NOT her.
She may be related to me, and I love her dearly, but she is NOT me.
Trying to find a way to relate to her. Maybe I should change my hair style. Or color. Or catch up on the Japanese comic books the kids read, where the words go up and down. Or tuck into a box of Ring Dings — she lives for Ring Dings.
we relate to people evry day. At work, at school, in the street, evrywhere. every new person we meet requires us to relate to them in some way; any way. We may like it or we may not but by the time we die we have probably related with about one fifth of the world’s population.
I relate to the world through the paint that pours off of my brush. My strokes are my words, and screams. My love, my hate. My struggle, my passion. It is my secret place to sort out all of the things that pester us all, and a voice to silently proclaim it.
relate.
He couldn’t say he could relate to what she goes through every day.
She lost Luke, her adopted big brother, to an evil Titan Lord out for revenge.
She lost Thalia, her adopted big sister, who turned into a tree. When she did come back, she left with Artemis’ hunters.
She lost her father to a step-mother that despised her for a while.
She almost lost him numerous times.
How was he supposed to compare to that?
He had a mother that cared for him, that had always been there for him through thick and thin. He had almost lost her once, but he had gotten her back and hadn’t lost her since.
He didn’t have any siblings, not even adopted ones, unless you counted the other campers not from his cabin at camp.
Though in all that time, the one time he had lost her, the girl of his dreams, she had bounced right back, and she had had his back ever since.
How could he show her he truly cared?
to connect something to something else. Relative, is a word with relate as its root word. It starts with an R. And ends with an E. Cool huh. I dunno what else to write, because I don’t really have many thoughts on this word. I’m gay.
I am related to my mother and I have no toes. I was pulled out of her uterus with salad tongs gripping my head. Then, they put me on the salad and poured Ranch dressing all over me. They sprinkled me with croutons and nibbled my toes. That is how I am related to my mom and have no toes.
I can relate to so many different things that sometimes it feels like hardly anyone can relate to me. People fall into categories – they like this or they like that. My inspiration comes from so many different streams of thought and I feel like it scares people away. But any time I try to limit it or fit it into a box I wind up losing something in the process.
I don’t think I can relate to anyone.
Everyone seems to be the same.
I only seem to be the oddball in my group of friends.
I don’t really mind.
Actually, I love being myself.
I can relate to my own self.
My own struggles.
My own journey.
I can relate.
Relate means to put two and two together. is two and two even the right twos to use? i have no clue. Relate? is relate related to relationships? i wonder what the origin of the word is? i dont know what the studying of orgins of words is called. but i think its cool. relate rhymes with masturbate. when is this 60 seconds up?