There are a lot of borders in this world. It seems like everything has a border. There’s a border between lust and love, a border between inside and outside, a border between drunk and sober. A border between life and death, a border between color and black and white. There’s always a border and I think of it as a difference. If you don’t like the way something is being done, hop the border into the difference and change it. That’s how I’ve always learned about difference. I feel like borders are just entrances to different opportunity and change. I open my mind and heart up to such ideas, for what better to live an interesting life without such excitement?
Hilliary
On the border, they stopped for a moment, knowing their next step would be the most important of their lives. No one had ever left the safe zone, and they knew they would probably not all make it back alive. But the prize they sought was too great to turn back now.
tonykeyesjapan
a place without borders, she thought she had landed in paradise. it was open, true, transparent. she walked on, explored, climbed hills, waded through water day in and day out. the land was limitless, she couldn’t find it’s end. she didn’t realise it that her journey was taking her in circles.
It was holding me in. I pushed persistently until my body couldn’t hold its own weight. I collapsed to the cold, stone ground. Helplessly I rolled over to find a door curiously in front of me. Quickly, I jolted up through my ache, and excitedly turned the brass knob. The door opened with ease. With its opening I felt the cool autumn breeze whizz through my hair, its mischievous leaves catching in it. A faint smile skated across my face.
Annee
a border is like a boundary or barrier. it shows the outskirts of something usually on a map or globe. it sometimes is hard to get through because to get into new countries,
Tomas
I looked down at the sea that I was named for. I was close to the border but I didn’t care, after all, my energy had left me the moment John said Ella was gone.
The only thing I did was cry.
I won’t step one foot over the border to Mexico. Had friends in a Mexican jail and the tales they told would scare anyone. Don’t get me wrong, they were smuggling 600 pounds of pot on top of a V.W. Bug so they kind of deserved to get busted. And they weren’t treated any differently than any other prisoner so that should give you some idea of the general conditions back in the 70’s. Can’t imagine it would be any better today.
I looked down to the sea that I was named for. I was close to the border but I didn’t care, after all, my energy had left me the moment John said Ella was gone.
I cried.
sonia
I wanted to hurt him. I wanted to kiss him. I was on the border of love and murder. I hated that he hurt me in every way possible but yet I still loved him with every piece of my broken heart. There was no thinking, I just had to go with my gut.
This is it! This is the border! I swim and I swim for so long. Hong Kong is in front of me. Now everything will be better. Everything will be ok. I will have freedom. Freedom of speech and love and hate. I can do whatever I want to do.
kwok
A border is piece of land that can separate different countries from each other. They can also be used as barriers from opposing forces or enemies.
Mika
Block
Barrier
Obstacle
In way
Stoping movement
Giant
Cant go further
Not under over through
Direction stoped
Victoria
the native American yamasee tribe attacked the colonist in south Carolina at the yamasee border war. In order to go to Canada (cross the border) you need a passport.
StanD
The border must always be crossed in order to make any great achievement. To smash the glass ceiling placed against you you have to go out of your comfort zone, cross your own border.
1border=Between Other Regions Doing Evaluated Restrictions
Garz
So, on the border of the wall to nigeria, there stood many guards. These people were dressed in elabarote cloaks, inlaid with cheap stones. These guards were to protect the country from the feirce cow warriors. The cow warriors were very angry with the people.
Aubrey
I closed the space between us by pressing my lips against his. It felt so good. His lips were soft, and careful. A torrent of electricity ran through my belly and I shivered, glad to have crossed the emotional border that kept us apart.
Iris
This time it wasn’t a matter of sneaking across the border in the middle of the night, terror lodged in one’s throat and palms drenched in a cold sweat, hoping that the patrols were far far away. It was a legal crossing, in the bright daylight, passport in hand. I didn’t leave a note to say that I was going or to say when I’d be back, but I knew that this time I was free to leave. Smiling, I handed my passport to the border guard.
It was on the left side border of Erol’s garden, down under the stone bower shaped like a trail of ivy and behind the oversized topiary that faced Mama’s sitting room. The one that resembled an elephant, though was said to be something of a hippo. Personally, I think Mama should have given the gardener the extra day off per week.
My life began every morning at twelve o’clock when I crossed that border on the pathway from my nursery where I had been washed, brushed and clothed, then led down the chipped stone walkway and taken to the arrangement of guards that stood outside, waiting to escort me safely from one building to the next.
Whenever I passed that border, I was no longer little Anastasia, but rather, little Lady Lawrence, who would be sure to do her best with all her might and every ounce of charm she could spare from her tiny little child-like heart.
I wish, these days, that I had known, even but an inkling of how my life would turn out. Perhaps if I had known, I might have enjoyed it more. I doubt I would have changed much, because the future and my luck hate each other quite thoroughly. I can only hope that, perhaps, I might have enjoyed a few more moments where life wasn’t always so dreary, dark and depressing.
The border loomed like the edge of a page
ready to be flicked down, cast down
ready to be crossed and cast out
to trap us in when we begin.
fz
He took us into the night, and we trusted him. He was smart, clever, and cunning, and he knew where the traps and pitfalls were that blocked our path. We gave him everything we had, our meager fortunes, our trust, our dreams. We forgot one thing, Coyotes are scavengers, they prey on dead things.
Here is the border. A line in the metaphorical sand, a boundary I cannot cross. No, not cannot. I could. I choose not to. Because of a sense of duty and loyalty? Maybe. But more likely because of the knowledge that shadows with rifles trained on me will pull the trigger if I dare to step past this invisible barrier. And I no longer wish to die.
so many borders building up all around my heart
you missed me from the start, i know
but you wouldn’t let me get to know you
i tried and tried which turned into lies that
climbed over one another covering up dishonesty
with completely imaginary stories and once i tripped
on my lie, the whole world found out and
avenged by gutting me from the scars on my belly (that
were probably karma before I even did anything wrong)
all the way to the hole in my face where the lies poured out
and I feel so sick sometimes when I think about it that
I’m just not gonna think about it at all and I’ll forget about this
like every other bad thing I’ve done, but never forgive
myself.
~
eventually I won’t remember what I’ll never forgive myself for,
but I will know that there is a reason for all the borders blocking
true feelings
~
and now I know why my sister never said sorry out loud
never apologized for tearing our worlds apart, never broke
down in front of anyone to make them aware she felt pain from her choice
I was angry with her for so long because I thought she felt no remorse
But I understand now, that she had just built barriers arund her heart thicker than
the gates of heaven, not allowing anyone’s opinions or bullshit experiences
interfere with the way she really felt. And she never wanted to regret her decision
she just wished it would have happened differently —
and I feel the exact same fucking way. I wish I could tell her.
stargirl
the border between two opposing sides. so thin yet so vast is the line that separates us. from death, from failure, from strife, from agony. so tiny is the vine on which we cross over life’s opposing forces. the forces set out for us. those which we fear. those which are necessary. those which are ours.
Jessica Brown
There are no borders in my brain. I do not compartimilize my thoughts into sections or topics. It is like a bunch of waterfalls all pouring into one place, all my different thoughts pouring out and then floating together as one.
He was manic, bordering on completely insane. He stalked from wall to wall of his little room, muttering under his breath, occasionally gesticulating wildly, sometimes laughing, sometimes weeping. He would not meet anyone’s eyes.
I have no idea what to say about fricking borders. How on earth am I supposed to know what to say about borders? How about no man.
Maggie
What is a border ? An imaginary line between two pieces of land who are there to hold people up most of the time. Sometimes they are easy to pass and sometimes there are walls that try hinder you . But why aren’t we allowed to go wherever we want ?
From earliest childhood, society builds walls and specific guides for where we are supposed to go. Then they tell us to draw outside the lines, think outside the box, shit like that. MAKE UP YOUR MIND. It’s confusing, especially coming from childhood into adulthood.
Border patrol took one look at my van and said,
‘pull over into space A’
Dude sits next to me on the bench as they tear through his pick-up, he is the sweatiest motherfucker I’ve ever seen.
E R
Javier kept a careful line between himself and his partner, Kevin Ryan. A border between their bodies. It kept him firmly in the land of “Don’t molest Ryan”, most days. Days like this, however, where they were just playing Madden in Javi’s apartment, the border patrol had an unfortunate tendency to disappear. The line went unguarded. And, occasionally–VERY occasionally–Javier Esposito allowed himself to briefly cross the border…
If she hadn’t crossed my path then, I never would’ve noticed. She was kind of way, but beautiful in a quiet sort of way. But soft and sunken, life’s forgotten pin cushion, drained and abused.
Enjolras rolled his eyes at his teacher’s standard-issue retort and his gaze landed on the paper of the kid next to him. With a fine-tipped pen, the guy was detailing a fantastically intricate border all around the sheet, completely ignoring the instructions printed on it; the instructions that Enjolras had been challenging just seconds before. On the bottom of the page in sweeping, elegant script, he’d doodled the words “Fuck your bad vibes.” Enjolras allowed himself half a grin.
nothing along the far banks of the river seemed any different than it did here, just good luck and bad luck. thats all it divided, a little ribbon of shitty water that determined the fate of millions.
Paul Atwood
He traced the border of his new leather cover notebook with his finger. A gift from his friend who had just been published with a novel. He opened to the front page. “To L, I hope I inspired you – you inspired me.” It had been a while since he had been writing. Work, and the girl from North Carolina took up his time lately. She had actually become his obsession, with her accent and long legs crowding out any other thoughts he could put on a page.
anella
give the passport, smile like you are doing this forever and that is it, you got over the border. No special control, no arguing, nothing. Things have changed I am telling you. These young guys have found their freedom.
Stef
She pulled her horse up sharply, hooves stopping just short of the border line.
As the sound, I slowed my own mount, twisting around in the saddle to see what the hold up was. “What’s the holdup, princess?” I asked, my tone laced with irritation. We’d never make Damascus at this rate.
She shook her head as she applied a gentle pressure with her heels, causing Dahlia to start forward. She didn’t speak until she’d drawn alongside me, our horses strides matching step for step. “I’ve never been beyond the borders of Auralia before,” she said quietly, so quietly that I almost didn’t hear.
There are a lot of borders in this world. It seems like everything has a border. There’s a border between lust and love, a border between inside and outside, a border between drunk and sober. A border between life and death, a border between color and black and white. There’s always a border and I think of it as a difference. If you don’t like the way something is being done, hop the border into the difference and change it. That’s how I’ve always learned about difference. I feel like borders are just entrances to different opportunity and change. I open my mind and heart up to such ideas, for what better to live an interesting life without such excitement?
On the border, they stopped for a moment, knowing their next step would be the most important of their lives. No one had ever left the safe zone, and they knew they would probably not all make it back alive. But the prize they sought was too great to turn back now.
a place without borders, she thought she had landed in paradise. it was open, true, transparent. she walked on, explored, climbed hills, waded through water day in and day out. the land was limitless, she couldn’t find it’s end. she didn’t realise it that her journey was taking her in circles.
It was holding me in. I pushed persistently until my body couldn’t hold its own weight. I collapsed to the cold, stone ground. Helplessly I rolled over to find a door curiously in front of me. Quickly, I jolted up through my ache, and excitedly turned the brass knob. The door opened with ease. With its opening I felt the cool autumn breeze whizz through my hair, its mischievous leaves catching in it. A faint smile skated across my face.
a border is like a boundary or barrier. it shows the outskirts of something usually on a map or globe. it sometimes is hard to get through because to get into new countries,
I looked down at the sea that I was named for. I was close to the border but I didn’t care, after all, my energy had left me the moment John said Ella was gone.
The only thing I did was cry.
I won’t step one foot over the border to Mexico. Had friends in a Mexican jail and the tales they told would scare anyone. Don’t get me wrong, they were smuggling 600 pounds of pot on top of a V.W. Bug so they kind of deserved to get busted. And they weren’t treated any differently than any other prisoner so that should give you some idea of the general conditions back in the 70’s. Can’t imagine it would be any better today.
I looked down to the sea that I was named for. I was close to the border but I didn’t care, after all, my energy had left me the moment John said Ella was gone.
I cried.
I wanted to hurt him. I wanted to kiss him. I was on the border of love and murder. I hated that he hurt me in every way possible but yet I still loved him with every piece of my broken heart. There was no thinking, I just had to go with my gut.
This is it! This is the border! I swim and I swim for so long. Hong Kong is in front of me. Now everything will be better. Everything will be ok. I will have freedom. Freedom of speech and love and hate. I can do whatever I want to do.
A border is piece of land that can separate different countries from each other. They can also be used as barriers from opposing forces or enemies.
Block
Barrier
Obstacle
In way
Stoping movement
Giant
Cant go further
Not under over through
Direction stoped
the native American yamasee tribe attacked the colonist in south Carolina at the yamasee border war. In order to go to Canada (cross the border) you need a passport.
The border must always be crossed in order to make any great achievement. To smash the glass ceiling placed against you you have to go out of your comfort zone, cross your own border.
1border=Between Other Regions Doing Evaluated Restrictions
So, on the border of the wall to nigeria, there stood many guards. These people were dressed in elabarote cloaks, inlaid with cheap stones. These guards were to protect the country from the feirce cow warriors. The cow warriors were very angry with the people.
I closed the space between us by pressing my lips against his. It felt so good. His lips were soft, and careful. A torrent of electricity ran through my belly and I shivered, glad to have crossed the emotional border that kept us apart.
This time it wasn’t a matter of sneaking across the border in the middle of the night, terror lodged in one’s throat and palms drenched in a cold sweat, hoping that the patrols were far far away. It was a legal crossing, in the bright daylight, passport in hand. I didn’t leave a note to say that I was going or to say when I’d be back, but I knew that this time I was free to leave. Smiling, I handed my passport to the border guard.
spring
It was on the left side border of Erol’s garden, down under the stone bower shaped like a trail of ivy and behind the oversized topiary that faced Mama’s sitting room. The one that resembled an elephant, though was said to be something of a hippo. Personally, I think Mama should have given the gardener the extra day off per week.
My life began every morning at twelve o’clock when I crossed that border on the pathway from my nursery where I had been washed, brushed and clothed, then led down the chipped stone walkway and taken to the arrangement of guards that stood outside, waiting to escort me safely from one building to the next.
Whenever I passed that border, I was no longer little Anastasia, but rather, little Lady Lawrence, who would be sure to do her best with all her might and every ounce of charm she could spare from her tiny little child-like heart.
I wish, these days, that I had known, even but an inkling of how my life would turn out. Perhaps if I had known, I might have enjoyed it more. I doubt I would have changed much, because the future and my luck hate each other quite thoroughly. I can only hope that, perhaps, I might have enjoyed a few more moments where life wasn’t always so dreary, dark and depressing.
The border loomed like the edge of a page
ready to be flicked down, cast down
ready to be crossed and cast out
to trap us in when we begin.
He took us into the night, and we trusted him. He was smart, clever, and cunning, and he knew where the traps and pitfalls were that blocked our path. We gave him everything we had, our meager fortunes, our trust, our dreams. We forgot one thing, Coyotes are scavengers, they prey on dead things.
Here is the border. A line in the metaphorical sand, a boundary I cannot cross. No, not cannot. I could. I choose not to. Because of a sense of duty and loyalty? Maybe. But more likely because of the knowledge that shadows with rifles trained on me will pull the trigger if I dare to step past this invisible barrier. And I no longer wish to die.
so many borders building up all around my heart
you missed me from the start, i know
but you wouldn’t let me get to know you
i tried and tried which turned into lies that
climbed over one another covering up dishonesty
with completely imaginary stories and once i tripped
on my lie, the whole world found out and
avenged by gutting me from the scars on my belly (that
were probably karma before I even did anything wrong)
all the way to the hole in my face where the lies poured out
and I feel so sick sometimes when I think about it that
I’m just not gonna think about it at all and I’ll forget about this
like every other bad thing I’ve done, but never forgive
myself.
~
eventually I won’t remember what I’ll never forgive myself for,
but I will know that there is a reason for all the borders blocking
true feelings
~
and now I know why my sister never said sorry out loud
never apologized for tearing our worlds apart, never broke
down in front of anyone to make them aware she felt pain from her choice
I was angry with her for so long because I thought she felt no remorse
But I understand now, that she had just built barriers arund her heart thicker than
the gates of heaven, not allowing anyone’s opinions or bullshit experiences
interfere with the way she really felt. And she never wanted to regret her decision
she just wished it would have happened differently —
and I feel the exact same fucking way. I wish I could tell her.
the border between two opposing sides. so thin yet so vast is the line that separates us. from death, from failure, from strife, from agony. so tiny is the vine on which we cross over life’s opposing forces. the forces set out for us. those which we fear. those which are necessary. those which are ours.
There are no borders in my brain. I do not compartimilize my thoughts into sections or topics. It is like a bunch of waterfalls all pouring into one place, all my different thoughts pouring out and then floating together as one.
He was manic, bordering on completely insane. He stalked from wall to wall of his little room, muttering under his breath, occasionally gesticulating wildly, sometimes laughing, sometimes weeping. He would not meet anyone’s eyes.
it is a line that is between two things,
that separates them and that can be a boundary but also it can be synonym for customs
Borderline.
Into the edge.
Where things meet only to splinter again.
Pick a direction.
Lose a direction.
Become the overlap.
I have no idea what to say about fricking borders. How on earth am I supposed to know what to say about borders? How about no man.
What is a border ? An imaginary line between two pieces of land who are there to hold people up most of the time. Sometimes they are easy to pass and sometimes there are walls that try hinder you . But why aren’t we allowed to go wherever we want ?
From earliest childhood, society builds walls and specific guides for where we are supposed to go. Then they tell us to draw outside the lines, think outside the box, shit like that. MAKE UP YOUR MIND. It’s confusing, especially coming from childhood into adulthood.
Border patrol took one look at my van and said,
‘pull over into space A’
Dude sits next to me on the bench as they tear through his pick-up, he is the sweatiest motherfucker I’ve ever seen.
Javier kept a careful line between himself and his partner, Kevin Ryan. A border between their bodies. It kept him firmly in the land of “Don’t molest Ryan”, most days. Days like this, however, where they were just playing Madden in Javi’s apartment, the border patrol had an unfortunate tendency to disappear. The line went unguarded. And, occasionally–VERY occasionally–Javier Esposito allowed himself to briefly cross the border…
If she hadn’t crossed my path then, I never would’ve noticed. She was kind of way, but beautiful in a quiet sort of way. But soft and sunken, life’s forgotten pin cushion, drained and abused.
Enjolras rolled his eyes at his teacher’s standard-issue retort and his gaze landed on the paper of the kid next to him. With a fine-tipped pen, the guy was detailing a fantastically intricate border all around the sheet, completely ignoring the instructions printed on it; the instructions that Enjolras had been challenging just seconds before. On the bottom of the page in sweeping, elegant script, he’d doodled the words “Fuck your bad vibes.” Enjolras allowed himself half a grin.
nothing along the far banks of the river seemed any different than it did here, just good luck and bad luck. thats all it divided, a little ribbon of shitty water that determined the fate of millions.
He traced the border of his new leather cover notebook with his finger. A gift from his friend who had just been published with a novel. He opened to the front page. “To L, I hope I inspired you – you inspired me.” It had been a while since he had been writing. Work, and the girl from North Carolina took up his time lately. She had actually become his obsession, with her accent and long legs crowding out any other thoughts he could put on a page.
give the passport, smile like you are doing this forever and that is it, you got over the border. No special control, no arguing, nothing. Things have changed I am telling you. These young guys have found their freedom.
She pulled her horse up sharply, hooves stopping just short of the border line.
As the sound, I slowed my own mount, twisting around in the saddle to see what the hold up was. “What’s the holdup, princess?” I asked, my tone laced with irritation. We’d never make Damascus at this rate.
She shook her head as she applied a gentle pressure with her heels, causing Dahlia to start forward. She didn’t speak until she’d drawn alongside me, our horses strides matching step for step. “I’ve never been beyond the borders of Auralia before,” she said quietly, so quietly that I almost didn’t hear.