I looked at the trophy sitting lonesomely on the shelf. It was supposed to mean so much, yet it meant nothing. I’d not reached any goal to get it, I’d only cheated my way to victory at the cost of my own self-respect.
ONCE I WON A SPELLING BEE TROPHY IN HIGH SCHOOL. I ONLY GOT SECOND PLACE AND I WAS PROUD BUT MY PARENTS WERE SAD THAT I DINT WIN. THEY WANTED ME TO DO BETTER THAN EVERYONE ELSE I’M ALWAYS DISAPPOINTING THEM. UGH I WISH I COULD DO BETTER. THEY JUST DONT UNDERSTAND. I cant DO BETTER. IM UNABLE TO DO ANY BETTER.
the trophy case in my high school was full of athletic accomplishments by friends and family. Our town was so small the city limits signs were posted on the same post. If you blinked you missed it
It sat there on the shelf placidly, like an idle trophy, except that it was just a stone. I would accept that it was a very smooth one though. I have never revered it as much as my husband does. He thinks it is the thing which made me say yes to him. Thats ridiculous, but thats another story.
Trophy… Well, I never actually won anything ever, so I don’t really know what having one is like. I imagine it must be nice… I won’t lie saying I don’t care about winning or being first, but I’ve never been that driven for something. A lot of good that’s done to my self esteem. Hahaha. But to tell you the truth, I just want to be my best because of you, so I feel I can deserve you.
I stopped trying to be my best when I stopped being afraid of losing you, because then I started existing in that state of being supreme when I knew you will forever be by my side.
useless pathetic trophy wife only loved for her looks and used as arm candy never really loved or a stupid shiny piece of junk making you seem better than you really are but its a lie its all lies never believe anybody or anything!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!
He won the trophy but didn’t think he deserved it. His mom did most of the work. She wrote the essay, made it sound like he did it, and filled out the entry forms. He felt bad, but couldn’t say anything because the essay was too emotionally difficult to explain away why he had her write it.
I won a trophy once in soccer, and in bowling. I won one in ROTC and I was so proud of myself, yet I wasn’t all at the same time. Everyone else got medals, while I worked my ass off and got a trophy for spirit.
tada. the 15 year old does it again. poise and grace. alignment. how to keep straight under finish. until you see different. let it begin, the competition draws near. forced relaxation.
Am I a trophy wife. Something to be won. Something worthy of being won? Or am I the one to hand the precious trophy over to the victor that I want to take me. Its scary to think I might just be watching instead of giving myself over.
Something to strive for.
Something to treasure forever
Something to show that you were better than the rest.
Something that has to be polished and stored in a special cabinet.
Like love, really.
Trophy! What trophy? There is nothing in my life that I would say I deserve a trophy. I have thought of my life and what I have done. I have come to the belief that ones final stroke is the most powerful in life. Maybe someone who has witnessed my life will set one atop my casket. No pictures please.
I glance longingly at the golden trophy stationed above my head. It shines in the florescent light, the colors shimmering off to reflect on the tiled floor. At the foot of the trophy is a black plaque, empty as of yet. But it’s my goal, and my goal will soon be reached, to have my name carved in that spot, stating that it is I that has come on top over everyone else.
Smithford Copperstones was on the look out for another trophy wife after selling his last wife to the “naturals” upstream. In the end he settled for a fairly hefty looking cow. Big fan of his milk is Smithford Copperstones.
I looked at the trophy sitting lonesomely on the shelf. It was supposed to mean so much, yet it meant nothing. I’d not reached any goal to get it, I’d only cheated my way to victory at the cost of my own self-respect.
ONCE I WON A SPELLING BEE TROPHY IN HIGH SCHOOL. I ONLY GOT SECOND PLACE AND I WAS PROUD BUT MY PARENTS WERE SAD THAT I DINT WIN. THEY WANTED ME TO DO BETTER THAN EVERYONE ELSE I’M ALWAYS DISAPPOINTING THEM. UGH I WISH I COULD DO BETTER. THEY JUST DONT UNDERSTAND. I cant DO BETTER. IM UNABLE TO DO ANY BETTER.
the trophy case in my high school was full of athletic accomplishments by friends and family. Our town was so small the city limits signs were posted on the same post. If you blinked you missed it
Winning. Win. Won. Giving up. Because everything is out of reach for those without arms. Without dreams.
It sat there on the shelf placidly, like an idle trophy, except that it was just a stone. I would accept that it was a very smooth one though. I have never revered it as much as my husband does. He thinks it is the thing which made me say yes to him. Thats ridiculous, but thats another story.
Trophy… Well, I never actually won anything ever, so I don’t really know what having one is like. I imagine it must be nice… I won’t lie saying I don’t care about winning or being first, but I’ve never been that driven for something. A lot of good that’s done to my self esteem. Hahaha. But to tell you the truth, I just want to be my best because of you, so I feel I can deserve you.
I stopped trying to be my best when I stopped being afraid of losing you, because then I started existing in that state of being supreme when I knew you will forever be by my side.
I was a trophy, there was no doubt about that.
She was a nice girl, to me, at least. But as a friend… I don’t know. Something was wrong. She didn’t like me in her business.
I guess she just wanted to be able to say she had a lot of friends- I was just part of the count.
useless pathetic trophy wife only loved for her looks and used as arm candy never really loved or a stupid shiny piece of junk making you seem better than you really are but its a lie its all lies never believe anybody or anything!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!
child hood, winnning, excitement, overcoming adversity. somithg that shows our achievement. a winning goal.
He won the trophy but didn’t think he deserved it. His mom did most of the work. She wrote the essay, made it sound like he did it, and filled out the entry forms. He felt bad, but couldn’t say anything because the essay was too emotionally difficult to explain away why he had her write it.
Like a wife, or so they say? The grand prize, what we strive for. Gold, tiny statue, made of plastic sits on my mantle.
I won a trophy once in soccer, and in bowling. I won one in ROTC and I was so proud of myself, yet I wasn’t all at the same time. Everyone else got medals, while I worked my ass off and got a trophy for spirit.
tada. the 15 year old does it again. poise and grace. alignment. how to keep straight under finish. until you see different. let it begin, the competition draws near. forced relaxation.
Am I a trophy wife. Something to be won. Something worthy of being won? Or am I the one to hand the precious trophy over to the victor that I want to take me. Its scary to think I might just be watching instead of giving myself over.
Something to strive for.
Something to treasure forever
Something to show that you were better than the rest.
Something that has to be polished and stored in a special cabinet.
Like love, really.
Trophy! What trophy? There is nothing in my life that I would say I deserve a trophy. I have thought of my life and what I have done. I have come to the belief that ones final stroke is the most powerful in life. Maybe someone who has witnessed my life will set one atop my casket. No pictures please.
I glance longingly at the golden trophy stationed above my head. It shines in the florescent light, the colors shimmering off to reflect on the tiled floor. At the foot of the trophy is a black plaque, empty as of yet. But it’s my goal, and my goal will soon be reached, to have my name carved in that spot, stating that it is I that has come on top over everyone else.
Smithford Copperstones was on the look out for another trophy wife after selling his last wife to the “naturals” upstream. In the end he settled for a fairly hefty looking cow. Big fan of his milk is Smithford Copperstones.