This is the place where we go backwards before going forwards because what went forwards before was wrong. When we find ourselves in need of a backspace, we can rethink where we were and find a new of becoming what we want to be.
Fiona Hamer
I can’t touch the backspace. I’m unable because I don’t have time and my tutor is breathing down my neck. I can feel her break along my neck and it smells of burned synthetic tobacco and overly sweet perfume. I have to type faster. I have to hack faster, correct, or I don’t get dinner tonight, she’ll make sure of that.
Cassandra
One button-that undo’s all mistakes. i wish it were more than just an inanimate object, though. maybe if it were real, like for human’s as opposed for just computer’s mistakes. instead of mankind wasting their youth via interweb-sharing all feelings through technology instead of face to face- and undoing all of what they really feel because one isn’t sure how the other will take it…backspace. instead of saying how they feel, they just…backspace-and reply with a simple “I don’t know.” human interaction has no backspace-one cannot start a sentence verbally then in the middle of it just…backspace. nope. All this is blabber-word vomit. mmmmmm. backspace.
it can be a sentence wrongly typed, fingers hovering over the enter button, or that day you tripped in front of the whole school that day in assembly. you’d do anything to go back, to exactly how things were the second before they laughed at you. you’d do anything to try again… to backspace.
Writing on paper with an inky implement is unlike any other creative experience a person can have. The choosing of words, knowing there is no backspace, only the option of a careful strike-through, creates a sometimes tentative grip of what would be an otherwise confident placing of meaning with no fear of mishap.
I wish I had a backspace bar for my life. Just a moment or two, I could take back when I say something stupid or do something mindless. It would be so nice, wouldn’t it, if I could just tap a key and there! I’d get a do over.
I might abuse it thought, and backspace myself back to childhood. Then I would never know you.
A backspace? Really? That’s the word of the day? How completely worthless.
If only a backspace could work in real life…I’d backspace all the way to before I was as I am now. Or maybe an alternate universe button would be better. Jesus.
Jeremy couldn’t think of anything to write on oneword, he started with a random name, “Sam,” and then didn’t like it so pressed the backspace button. But his computer interpreted it as going back to the previous page. So he found himself looking at the front page, again, with the “go” button. Well, that didn’t count towards the one minute, did it? Now he could start again, better prepared.
It’s plain to see, printed in black and white
Watermarks, and Harvard referencing, and footnotes bursting with a statisticians haven
I’ll use prestigious paper, because that makes it fact.
Right?
My finger hovers musingly over the oblong backspace key
Threatening to erase even the graphemes of solipsism
Because perhaps even the most reductionist fact can be made redundant.
Wrong?
Jacklin
The backspace key is a wonderful thing it allows me to wipe out mistakes in an instant.. If only there was such a thing in real life, I would use it constantly, there would be no regrets, no bad decisions my life would be perfect.
backspace reminds me about all of the mistakes i would make since nobody is perfect and that we all can fix our mistakes even if people say its stays forever
Will Jochum
Es gibt Momente im Leben, da wünscht man sich eine “backspace”-Taste. Am Computer ist das ganz einfach. Der Text den man geschrieben hat, gefällt einem nicht? Man hat einen Rechtschreibfehler eingebaut? “backspace” benutzen und einfach löschen. Im Leben ist das nicht wirklich möglich. Dennoch möchte manchmal einfach das löschen, was man gerade getan hat…
DerKirsche
Backspace. That wasn’t right. “And then she…” backspace. Why won’t the words come to me? Backspace. What next? Hmm……
Morgan
the ability to take something away or delete it. A key on a keyboard. Taking a step backwards.
Kirill Zubaryev
when you are moving ahead and living your life when it comes to you, to it comes that backpace. It hurts. YOLO
PP
I virtually melted under the gaze of the 1000 irritated Puerto Ricans. I’d like to say it wasn’t my fault they were all covered in faeces, but it was. Women & children screamed as the tidal wave of rats I had inadvertently released swarmed their feet. Behind me, the last of the town hall finally collapsed; its dust and 2000 years of history I accidentally destroyed, stuck to the tar like toffee that covered my naked body. The remains of the monument I stood upon implied a stage and I was the unlucky star.
As the town’s giant clock struck midday, I realized I had only been in this land for 5 minutes. Already, I was not merely the talk of the town, I was a pasty threat to it’s existence.
Silence. Each vengeful eye pierced my confidence until it hung like the burst balloons above my head. Like me, not 10 minutes ago they looked far more festive. Finally, the disbelief subsided enough for a man in the crowd to scream in anger. One by one, the townspeople joined him in a thunderous roar that desired vengence. As mothers, fathers, bambinos, seniors and senioritas, rush to physically remunerate me for my calamitous entrance, I remember thinking – I wish life had a backspace.
its that button that makes the loudest sound on the keyboard, the button you press when you make a mistake, the button that leaves no trace, the button that comes in one, oblong size, the button thats just another key on the keyboard, back and space,
jackie
Backspace. Erase your mistakes. That’s what it’s there for. However, there isn’t a backspace in life. It’s simply a button on a keyboard. Backspace.
Lindsey
Take a step out into the abyss.
Backspace through reality.
Fade in. Fade out.
OUt of consciousness.
Out out being.
Project the crystals from a new light.
And see something..
beautiful.
He had been trying to type up his story for hours, but all he managed to do was keep hitting the backspace key everytime he began. He needed inspiration. Of all. The wrong. Sorts.
Back to what. Back to past. or back to back. on a rappin track. you cant replace. you cant subract. what was already done. It was already fact. how bout we leave it at that. We can leave it way back. cus in this l live ant no time for that.
Her life was heading far too fast. She wanted it all to just go away, and she covered hear ears with her palms and started to scream. Maybe if she could scream loud enough, she could drown out the world. She shut her eyes and felt tears streaming down her cheeks, and silently prayed to a god she didn’t believe in. Just for something, anything that could save her.
She slowly opened her eyes and blinked in surprise at the site of the laptop in front of her. A simple notepad application, with what appeared to be her entire life story. And then she realized what she wanted.
She highlighted the bits of her life she didn’t like, and smiled when she realized how easy it would be to press backspace.
The next day, no one really knew who she was. She was broken, automated. Almost inhuman. Something was wrong, like there were bits of her missing. Then they realized it- when they looked into her eyes, it was like there were dead pixels.
Writer’s block was beating the backspace bar like an unruly spouse in a house full of dishes. It was classless and cruel, ignoring all forms of propriety and compassion to bring only pain and strife to all that made themselves known in its presence.
This is the place where we go backwards before going forwards because what went forwards before was wrong. When we find ourselves in need of a backspace, we can rethink where we were and find a new of becoming what we want to be.
I can’t touch the backspace. I’m unable because I don’t have time and my tutor is breathing down my neck. I can feel her break along my neck and it smells of burned synthetic tobacco and overly sweet perfume. I have to type faster. I have to hack faster, correct, or I don’t get dinner tonight, she’ll make sure of that.
One button-that undo’s all mistakes. i wish it were more than just an inanimate object, though. maybe if it were real, like for human’s as opposed for just computer’s mistakes. instead of mankind wasting their youth via interweb-sharing all feelings through technology instead of face to face- and undoing all of what they really feel because one isn’t sure how the other will take it…backspace. instead of saying how they feel, they just…backspace-and reply with a simple “I don’t know.” human interaction has no backspace-one cannot start a sentence verbally then in the middle of it just…backspace. nope. All this is blabber-word vomit. mmmmmm. backspace.
it can be a sentence wrongly typed, fingers hovering over the enter button, or that day you tripped in front of the whole school that day in assembly. you’d do anything to go back, to exactly how things were the second before they laughed at you. you’d do anything to try again… to backspace.
Writing on paper with an inky implement is unlike any other creative experience a person can have. The choosing of words, knowing there is no backspace, only the option of a careful strike-through, creates a sometimes tentative grip of what would be an otherwise confident placing of meaning with no fear of mishap.
I wish I had a backspace bar for my life. Just a moment or two, I could take back when I say something stupid or do something mindless. It would be so nice, wouldn’t it, if I could just tap a key and there! I’d get a do over.
I might abuse it thought, and backspace myself back to childhood. Then I would never know you.
A backspace? Really? That’s the word of the day? How completely worthless.
If only a backspace could work in real life…I’d backspace all the way to before I was as I am now. Or maybe an alternate universe button would be better. Jesus.
Jeremy couldn’t think of anything to write on oneword, he started with a random name, “Sam,” and then didn’t like it so pressed the backspace button. But his computer interpreted it as going back to the previous page. So he found himself looking at the front page, again, with the “go” button. Well, that didn’t count towards the one minute, did it? Now he could start again, better prepared.
It’s plain to see, printed in black and white
Watermarks, and Harvard referencing, and footnotes bursting with a statisticians haven
I’ll use prestigious paper, because that makes it fact.
Right?
My finger hovers musingly over the oblong backspace key
Threatening to erase even the graphemes of solipsism
Because perhaps even the most reductionist fact can be made redundant.
Wrong?
The backspace key is a wonderful thing it allows me to wipe out mistakes in an instant.. If only there was such a thing in real life, I would use it constantly, there would be no regrets, no bad decisions my life would be perfect.
backspace reminds me about all of the mistakes i would make since nobody is perfect and that we all can fix our mistakes even if people say its stays forever
Es gibt Momente im Leben, da wünscht man sich eine “backspace”-Taste. Am Computer ist das ganz einfach. Der Text den man geschrieben hat, gefällt einem nicht? Man hat einen Rechtschreibfehler eingebaut? “backspace” benutzen und einfach löschen. Im Leben ist das nicht wirklich möglich. Dennoch möchte manchmal einfach das löschen, was man gerade getan hat…
Backspace. That wasn’t right. “And then she…” backspace. Why won’t the words come to me? Backspace. What next? Hmm……
the ability to take something away or delete it. A key on a keyboard. Taking a step backwards.
when you are moving ahead and living your life when it comes to you, to it comes that backpace. It hurts. YOLO
I virtually melted under the gaze of the 1000 irritated Puerto Ricans. I’d like to say it wasn’t my fault they were all covered in faeces, but it was. Women & children screamed as the tidal wave of rats I had inadvertently released swarmed their feet. Behind me, the last of the town hall finally collapsed; its dust and 2000 years of history I accidentally destroyed, stuck to the tar like toffee that covered my naked body. The remains of the monument I stood upon implied a stage and I was the unlucky star.
As the town’s giant clock struck midday, I realized I had only been in this land for 5 minutes. Already, I was not merely the talk of the town, I was a pasty threat to it’s existence.
Silence. Each vengeful eye pierced my confidence until it hung like the burst balloons above my head. Like me, not 10 minutes ago they looked far more festive. Finally, the disbelief subsided enough for a man in the crowd to scream in anger. One by one, the townspeople joined him in a thunderous roar that desired vengence. As mothers, fathers, bambinos, seniors and senioritas, rush to physically remunerate me for my calamitous entrance, I remember thinking – I wish life had a backspace.
its that button that makes the loudest sound on the keyboard, the button you press when you make a mistake, the button that leaves no trace, the button that comes in one, oblong size, the button thats just another key on the keyboard, back and space,
Backspace. Erase your mistakes. That’s what it’s there for. However, there isn’t a backspace in life. It’s simply a button on a keyboard. Backspace.
Take a step out into the abyss.
Backspace through reality.
Fade in. Fade out.
OUt of consciousness.
Out out being.
Project the crystals from a new light.
And see something..
beautiful.
He had been trying to type up his story for hours, but all he managed to do was keep hitting the backspace key everytime he began. He needed inspiration. Of all. The wrong. Sorts.
Back to what. Back to past. or back to back. on a rappin track. you cant replace. you cant subract. what was already done. It was already fact. how bout we leave it at that. We can leave it way back. cus in this l live ant no time for that.
Her life was heading far too fast. She wanted it all to just go away, and she covered hear ears with her palms and started to scream. Maybe if she could scream loud enough, she could drown out the world. She shut her eyes and felt tears streaming down her cheeks, and silently prayed to a god she didn’t believe in. Just for something, anything that could save her.
She slowly opened her eyes and blinked in surprise at the site of the laptop in front of her. A simple notepad application, with what appeared to be her entire life story. And then she realized what she wanted.
She highlighted the bits of her life she didn’t like, and smiled when she realized how easy it would be to press backspace.
The next day, no one really knew who she was. She was broken, automated. Almost inhuman. Something was wrong, like there were bits of her missing. Then they realized it- when they looked into her eyes, it was like there were dead pixels.
a backspace is like if you type something & you like misspelled something & you ackspace it to type it right? uhm, i think
Writer’s block was beating the backspace bar like an unruly spouse in a house full of dishes. It was classless and cruel, ignoring all forms of propriety and compassion to bring only pain and strife to all that made themselves known in its presence.