go, start, done; thoughtless. i need not a moment before the words have spilt from my mouth. they are the reaction that i am known to give, and before now i never realized how much i used them.
You didn’t buy the automatic? I can’t drive a stick. How am I suppose to get places? Why didn’t you consult me? Automatic… Automatic… Everything these days is Automatic; why would you buy a manual??
The doors didn’t open as I stood there. I cursed under my breath. I was already late for the meeting and the damn doors couldn’t open. I took a step back and noticed the sign. “automatic doors broken down” “how else do I get into the building?,” I cried.
Caitlin west
DtgdgthyjgugkhikhkuyujtyjyhikhkuyukkuTest
Mindi
I prefer automatic cars to standard cars because it is a much smoother drive and less work involved. I guess that could also translate to a commentary on today’s society and how we are inherently lazy and prefer the simple method.
Laur
is a car that’s easy and loves the simple road on a Sunday afternoon. is the feeling when one does not feel; a reaction.
jordan
Even though you spoke to him with worry he snapped back in anger, even though he would always return your concern with scorn, even though he ignored your every utterance, you stayed by his side.
You could say your response was automatic.
responding without thinking, doing things without intention, doing things out of nessesity, forced, mechanic, boring, not creative, bland, not worthwhile, waste of time
Caitlin
every time i see u, my heart automatically skips a beat & i feel like the world is spinning around me & you & everything is moving, except for the 2 of us. & maybe, just maybe, you were meant to be all mine, only mine, forever, to have & to hold, till death do us part.
i see you standing there,
watching me
with those bright
bright
eyes of yours.
mentally
sending me one of
your
automatic
loveletters
trying to distract me,
to get me to look your way
but i’ll resist…
until i can’t
I drive an automatic car. I just bought it, and it’s nice and all, but I’m stressed about making payments on it. I want to start saving money. I’m pretty bad at that. Man, money stinks.
Her fingers glided automaticly over the keys of the computer. ‘This was going to be her best story ever’ she thought!
smily
automatic is just what I think is a reflex like automatically you say I love you I automatically question my own feelings my attraction to you I automatically freak out at this. Automatically I fail at life with theses unknownn feelings I wish I felt like I did that night, after the automatically awkward first kiss, I miss me not being afraid of these things, what happened to me
Megan
automatic means to do things without you having to do things, like in a car where you dont have to shift gears it does it for you. So if you want the easy life buy everything automatic.
Matthew N.
automatically I presume that I’m here for a reason, simply to find myself some time later unprepared for the real reason. Nature’s reason. Nonetheless I must face my fate that awaits me so patiently, whether it ends for the better or not.
K.T.
Autoerotic.
Sever its brain
So it can’t think.
Thinking is dangerous for that sort
Not bound by basic rules
Automatically, my hands speed across the keyboard, rushing to fill out this blank expanse of screen. What would I say? Brain freeze! I hesitate because of the words tumbling across the page that have no coherent meaning.
Amanda
Right now, I’m on automatic pilot mode. Dip and dive, steer straight and keep going. Controlled, like puppet strings, by some part of me that switches into automatic mode when manual gets too hard. When thinking gets too hard. When doing becomes over-rated. I just let go of the controls and let the mannequin/blow-up doll/robot, whatever it is – that part of me that sails through days blankly, just getting by, not living – take over. While the real-human- flesh-breathing-berated me slips off to some first class mind section, where I wallow in wonderings and dream of new destinations and the exhilaration of landing.
it was an automatic reaction, kicking him into gear, his pulse quickening, his heart tightening, beating against his chest as if it would bust, buckling his knees and bring sweat to his brow. He didn’t think, he just did. He just was.
Hannah
rapid-fire, pop pop pop, outside the compound the ammo was hot. Civil war was inconvenient, but something in Charlie wouldn’t let him take it too seriously.
Temporary loss of Consciousness, caused by too many things to think about. Driving home on automatic, not noticing my surroundings, just making the right moves. What’s that? Tall, cloaked figure with a scythe.
lindajoy
“It’s not the sort of thing you’d expect,” she said, doubtfully. “Not from Anderson, anyway.”
His response was automatic. “Nobody ever knows what to expect from Anderson.” He paused, then added: “If you really want to know what he’s thinking, the best thing would be to ask him yourself.”
Megan
Automatic… Sometimes, a switch kicks off in me the second I hear the sound of my manic-depressive/bipolar crazy cousin’s screeching voice, screeching at my grandmother for minimal reasons. I automatically ball up my fists, because so badly do I want to intervene, but I know my gram thinks I only fuel the fire when I stand up to my cousin. Also, sometimes when I go out to various places, I feel as if I am automatically self-conscious of my movements. And for some incidental reason, whenever I partake in my online college classes, even starting out I automatically feel as if my contributions are overlooked. Actually, I guess I feel that way a lot, inside or outside of online school.
The automatic assumption of the aviator was rivaled with the recklessness of the radioactive radical. That being said, it was all very silly. A sitcom, really. Something to view with booze and chips very much like football on a weekday after you’ve come home from your mall job where you drive little kids around on a train to show them the movie theater and the Victoria’s Secret. All very charming.
Belinda Roddie
I always seem to jump to automatic conclusions when it comes to my friends. They’re in a bad mood? It’s my fault. Only for the negative things, though. I’m positive that positivity on their part has other origins. Other origins like chocolate and Better-Than-Sex cake.
It was an automatic response. A reflex. I did it without thinking. God, I wish I could take it back. But once a word like that slips your lips it tends to stick to the person who hears its mind. What a horrible four letter word. Love. Who came up with such a stupid, beautiful piece of vocabulary that could change two lives in one instant.
Preston
the urge to write seems to be automatic for me. I feel better after I have written something down, because I know that after I’m gone, someone may benefit from reading it, or not!
Sometimes it become automatic. The way I act, the way I care. Maybe it shouldn’t be automatic. Maybe it should be manual. Maybe I should be there to describe how I feel instead of nodding blindly and expecting – rather hoping – the best is yet to come. I need to become manual. I’m no longer a robot, so why do I act as one? Why? Can you tell me that? I want to know what it’s like to turn of the automatic and become myself.
Gabby
Automatic
I’ve got routines. I put them in place to make the normal everyday stuff go simply, easily, as if on automatic pilot. But I think I forgot to flip the ON switch today. My routines have not yet begun, and the day is half over.
This was the first type of car that I learned how to drive. I have never been able to drive a stick shift. I am very uncordinated and have trouble shifting and stepping at the same time. Automatic is easier.
Ashley
Its just what I do, I write, its automatic. when I see a blank peice of paper, I write. Wat else can I do? I have a need to fill it up with wrods, phrases, thoughts, feelings of me, As if I can make sure that when I am gone, some part of me is left behind.
go, start, done; thoughtless. i need not a moment before the words have spilt from my mouth. they are the reaction that i am known to give, and before now i never realized how much i used them.
You didn’t buy the automatic? I can’t drive a stick. How am I suppose to get places? Why didn’t you consult me? Automatic… Automatic… Everything these days is Automatic; why would you buy a manual??
She’s automatically programmed for this. You can’t stop this chaos. You embedded it into her brain. The world shall die because of you.
The doors didn’t open as I stood there. I cursed under my breath. I was already late for the meeting and the damn doors couldn’t open. I took a step back and noticed the sign. “automatic doors broken down” “how else do I get into the building?,” I cried.
DtgdgthyjgugkhikhkuyujtyjyhikhkuyukkuTest
I prefer automatic cars to standard cars because it is a much smoother drive and less work involved. I guess that could also translate to a commentary on today’s society and how we are inherently lazy and prefer the simple method.
is a car that’s easy and loves the simple road on a Sunday afternoon. is the feeling when one does not feel; a reaction.
Even though you spoke to him with worry he snapped back in anger, even though he would always return your concern with scorn, even though he ignored your every utterance, you stayed by his side.
You could say your response was automatic.
Automatic is where something does it by it’s self with out anyone doing it. Thats all I know about Automatic.
Automatic is where it does it by its self. Not when you have to do it.
responding without thinking, doing things without intention, doing things out of nessesity, forced, mechanic, boring, not creative, bland, not worthwhile, waste of time
every time i see u, my heart automatically skips a beat & i feel like the world is spinning around me & you & everything is moving, except for the 2 of us. & maybe, just maybe, you were meant to be all mine, only mine, forever, to have & to hold, till death do us part.
ugh friday someone told Serrano that i took her pass and i got an automatic detention that i had to serve today is was so boring
The boy automatically assumed that he was in trouble when he was called to the office.
i see you standing there,
watching me
with those bright
bright
eyes of yours.
mentally
sending me one of
your
automatic
loveletters
trying to distract me,
to get me to look your way
but i’ll resist…
until i can’t
My brothers quad is automatic. I heard that cars were automatic. I don’t know the real meaning of automatic so I’m typing random things.
Is that were is going by its self and you dont have to do it by hand.
I drive an automatic car. I just bought it, and it’s nice and all, but I’m stressed about making payments on it. I want to start saving money. I’m pretty bad at that. Man, money stinks.
Her fingers glided automaticly over the keys of the computer. ‘This was going to be her best story ever’ she thought!
automatic is just what I think is a reflex like automatically you say I love you I automatically question my own feelings my attraction to you I automatically freak out at this. Automatically I fail at life with theses unknownn feelings I wish I felt like I did that night, after the automatically awkward first kiss, I miss me not being afraid of these things, what happened to me
automatic means to do things without you having to do things, like in a car where you dont have to shift gears it does it for you. So if you want the easy life buy everything automatic.
automatically I presume that I’m here for a reason, simply to find myself some time later unprepared for the real reason. Nature’s reason. Nonetheless I must face my fate that awaits me so patiently, whether it ends for the better or not.
Autoerotic.
Sever its brain
So it can’t think.
Thinking is dangerous for that sort
Not bound by basic rules
Automatic.
Automatically, my hands speed across the keyboard, rushing to fill out this blank expanse of screen. What would I say? Brain freeze! I hesitate because of the words tumbling across the page that have no coherent meaning.
Right now, I’m on automatic pilot mode. Dip and dive, steer straight and keep going. Controlled, like puppet strings, by some part of me that switches into automatic mode when manual gets too hard. When thinking gets too hard. When doing becomes over-rated. I just let go of the controls and let the mannequin/blow-up doll/robot, whatever it is – that part of me that sails through days blankly, just getting by, not living – take over. While the real-human- flesh-breathing-berated me slips off to some first class mind section, where I wallow in wonderings and dream of new destinations and the exhilaration of landing.
it was an automatic reaction, kicking him into gear, his pulse quickening, his heart tightening, beating against his chest as if it would bust, buckling his knees and bring sweat to his brow. He didn’t think, he just did. He just was.
rapid-fire, pop pop pop, outside the compound the ammo was hot. Civil war was inconvenient, but something in Charlie wouldn’t let him take it too seriously.
Temporary loss of Consciousness, caused by too many things to think about. Driving home on automatic, not noticing my surroundings, just making the right moves. What’s that? Tall, cloaked figure with a scythe.
“It’s not the sort of thing you’d expect,” she said, doubtfully. “Not from Anderson, anyway.”
His response was automatic. “Nobody ever knows what to expect from Anderson.” He paused, then added: “If you really want to know what he’s thinking, the best thing would be to ask him yourself.”
Automatic… Sometimes, a switch kicks off in me the second I hear the sound of my manic-depressive/bipolar crazy cousin’s screeching voice, screeching at my grandmother for minimal reasons. I automatically ball up my fists, because so badly do I want to intervene, but I know my gram thinks I only fuel the fire when I stand up to my cousin. Also, sometimes when I go out to various places, I feel as if I am automatically self-conscious of my movements. And for some incidental reason, whenever I partake in my online college classes, even starting out I automatically feel as if my contributions are overlooked. Actually, I guess I feel that way a lot, inside or outside of online school.
The automatic assumption of the aviator was rivaled with the recklessness of the radioactive radical. That being said, it was all very silly. A sitcom, really. Something to view with booze and chips very much like football on a weekday after you’ve come home from your mall job where you drive little kids around on a train to show them the movie theater and the Victoria’s Secret. All very charming.
I always seem to jump to automatic conclusions when it comes to my friends. They’re in a bad mood? It’s my fault. Only for the negative things, though. I’m positive that positivity on their part has other origins. Other origins like chocolate and Better-Than-Sex cake.
It was an automatic response. A reflex. I did it without thinking. God, I wish I could take it back. But once a word like that slips your lips it tends to stick to the person who hears its mind. What a horrible four letter word. Love. Who came up with such a stupid, beautiful piece of vocabulary that could change two lives in one instant.
the urge to write seems to be automatic for me. I feel better after I have written something down, because I know that after I’m gone, someone may benefit from reading it, or not!
Ly, my first instinct, step on the gas, hurry! The fucking black and white are after me, time to flee the scene before I end up in a situation.
Sometimes it become automatic. The way I act, the way I care. Maybe it shouldn’t be automatic. Maybe it should be manual. Maybe I should be there to describe how I feel instead of nodding blindly and expecting – rather hoping – the best is yet to come. I need to become manual. I’m no longer a robot, so why do I act as one? Why? Can you tell me that? I want to know what it’s like to turn of the automatic and become myself.
Automatic
I’ve got routines. I put them in place to make the normal everyday stuff go simply, easily, as if on automatic pilot. But I think I forgot to flip the ON switch today. My routines have not yet begun, and the day is half over.
challenge-giving opportunity
This was the first type of car that I learned how to drive. I have never been able to drive a stick shift. I am very uncordinated and have trouble shifting and stepping at the same time. Automatic is easier.
Its just what I do, I write, its automatic. when I see a blank peice of paper, I write. Wat else can I do? I have a need to fill it up with wrods, phrases, thoughts, feelings of me, As if I can make sure that when I am gone, some part of me is left behind.