life is comfortable if you put all of yourself in it. comfort is first felt in the heart, i.
Aurora
laying in my bed and imagining the most amazing situation ever.
lama
Here I was, in the comfort of my own home, after such a long and arduous journey. I wanted nothing more than to sit down in front of a fire and rest my weary bones. And that was what I did. But then, as time passed, a thought sprung up in the back of my head, and slowly came to the surface: Where is the life or the adventure, where is the adrenaline pumping through my veins?
Ian Ryan
that makes you feel calm and relaxed
sleeping
sitting all day
Aarushi
If you’re lying in bed and feeling kind of ok, but then it starts raining and the wind gets up and you know your windows are shut and the wind can’t get you. And then it gets up more and starts hammering the window with the sound of coldness and wetness kept away from you.
Mikey
It was time for us to return to the hotel that evening, although we had lost all of our money in the casino, it was a comfort that we still able to get our items that we hat purchased for the mini mart with the few dollars that i had stuffed in to my socks, before leaving the night club.
victor walkes
When the man tried to comfort his wife. She shrugged him away. How could he? And why? THAT thought wasn’t comforting at all. She got her keys, her blue purse, a dress, and drove away. She didn’t know where to go to, either.
This was who he was, a perfect cliche in the most disgusting of ways. This was where he felt home, in the place that bore his mind, compromised of pink cell tissue joined to each by but a simple nerve. His mind of black. He was man that was not scared by the silence, but rather appreciated the lack of static it brought with it. He couldn’t be around many humans at once, they nerved his eyes and unknowingly dissolved his sanity. But the thing with this world is; it’s too crowded. He is a cliche, people think his solitude drove him as he was but how wrong they are. This is what felt great, a scalpel in hand to dissect what we humans are. In this perfect solitude, of white silenced walls with plain empty spaces, he would cut to the center of us, laughing to himself at the cliche we all are. We call ourselves great and better than others, but in the end, we’re all alike. Just blood bones.
Saskia
I’m laying in bed as i type this, next to my husband and covered up by my favorite blanket that I’ve had since i was a child. I love this blanket and covering up with it makes me think of all the times in my life when it has brought me comfort and warmth and it makes me happy. The husband is warm too. ^_^
Such comfort was uncommon. Her soft face, effortless smile, accommodating spirit, all served to make him relaxed in his skin, easy in his mind, comfortable at heart.
Where I am right now, even though it is 4 am. I am in my own room, with my own back yard and the kitty sleeping in my bed wondering where the heck I am. Yeah, I may not be rich, but my life is.
B. Collins
comfort food, warm, soup or stew, must have mashed potato to be truely comforting, reminds of home, of being cared for, nourished, cherished. Or be sweet, rather bland, rice pudding, cake and custard, filling, make you sleepy and safe feeling.
georgie
Ooh I like comfort! Comforting things like blankets and warm food in cold weather. Comforting places like bed and comforting people like your friends and family.
“Do you have to really say that,” Jessica asked Yuri and they were sitting, wait not sitting, they were riding on top of each other on a very colorful dotted mat in the middle of the living room. It would be grateful sin if they were to be naked.
“Well I have to, it’s a game Jessi, and you need to play it,” Yuri said deceitfully and skidded her hand painfully over her friend’s bum to that red oh-so-far dot.
“And this endearingly comfortable,” she groaned.
The darker girl snorted loudly, they should play this game more. “Definitely.”
“Do you have to really say that,” Jessica asked Yuri and they were sitting, wait not sitting, they were riding on top of each other on a very colorful dotted mat in the middle of the living room.
“Well i have to, it’s a game Jessi, and you need to play it,” Yuri said deceitfully and skidded her hand painfully over her friend’s bum to that red oh-so-far dot.
“And this endearingly comfortable.”
The darker girl snorted loudly, they should play this game more.
Sarah
Comfort is when someone is comfortable at his or her own state. Comfort can come in many different forms as it creates pleasure. One can be comfortable if they are willing to be themselves with other people.
pia bocanegra
There once was a girl who was too lazy to get out of bed.
There were only two minutes left until school started. Her mom and brothers were screaming for her to get up, but she didn’t want to.
Screw them, she thought. She rolled over and went back to sleep.
She didn’t wake up again. Her brothers had poisoned her.
Isabelle
I don’t understand it, but oh how I want to.
Every day there’s pain.
Head-to-toe.
Inside.
Outside.
Comfort, comfort, comfort.
Don’t understand it.
But oh how I want to.
Oh how I want to.
“Yep,I’m fine” I replied cheerfully.”You better treat my sister well or you’ll get it!”
I furiously nodded to let him know I was okay,and I was no crybaby that needed soothing.Turning away from him,I took a deep breath and let a tear slide down my cheek.
I knew no words could comfort me now.
dramarie
i’m comfortable with myself right now. i’m at ease. For once in my life, I feel good about the future. I had a kiss tonight that was great! I’m confident, and i’m ready for the future. I’m comfortable with who I am. And quite frankly– I’m ready to kiss someone again. :) comfortable.
Samantha
She’s sitting there, on the top step, with her hair scraped back into a loose ponytail, the concrete is warm under her palms, and the breeeze that blows past is soft and cool. I want to move closer, wrap my arms around the shoulders I know to be shaking, but I don’t, I know she doesn’t want my comfort.
Zu Rokkata
to me comfort is being dressed in jeans and a big hoodie. comfort to me is being around someone and feeling warm inside. feeling like you are always wearing a smile. comfort to me is being home, with my family and people i love and trust. comfort is the ultimate feeling.
Elle Collins
As a brand name this works perfectly to describe the aspirations of the product and the desires of its purchasers.
kat
“How are you doing today?”
pause.
“I’m… I’m doing alright.”
“Are you comfortable? Can I get you anything?”
short pause.
“I’m fine. Thank you.”
“How’s your pain?”
longer pause.
“Good… The morphine helps.”
silence.
“I wish it didn’t have to be like this…”
short pause.
“Me neither, honey.”
“I’m going to miss you so much.”
silence.
Comfort means different things to different people; it’s relative, like everything else in the world. Comfort, to me, is being around people I love and Sunday mornings and crackling fires and family dinners and inside jokes.
Liz
comfort? Is that what everyone wants in their life? What they want, in their core, in their heart?
Why? Why have a boring live, why live with the same stuff everyday! No! Sick, that is wrong, please! Think about it and live without comfort.
Ice cream and cushions, Christmas and candles. It’s a feeling, something in your stomach, a sense of muscles relaxing. Mind still and silent. Everything still and silent. It’s tangible, repeatable. It’s the evening. It’s the thing I strive for. It’s burgundy and the taste of something delicious sticking to your tongue. It’s not the morning, harsh fingers of light and expectation poking at your day, the sense of grayness surrounding you. It’s warmth.
Aly Blythe
Comfort is purely subjective. it depends on the persons with whom we have longstanding relationship and things which are essentially required in our day-to-day life. In work, relationship and every other aspects of life, the comfort level is essential.
sankar
She always liked pockets. They were her secret hiding places when she was little, where she would keep all the treasures she found in hidden places or on the sidewalk. As she got older she began to create pockets for herself, places where she could feel hidden and safe, comforted by the closeness and protecting of her own little world.
Audrey
It’s a smile. It’s the nod of affirmation that you exist. It’s a compliment. It’s that helping hand someone lends you when you’re in an unfamiliar place. It’s a phone call with your mom. It’s the hot shower you take to wake up in the morning that’s just a few minutes too long. It’s a pint of chocolate ice cream or a box of truffles. It’s the plush couch you got a deal on. It’s a pile of blankets with the softest one rubbing up against your cheek. It’s steaming hot cocoa that you didn’t have to make yourself. It’s the back massage you haven’t had in so long. It’s knowing that there’s someone who will always text you back. It’s watching TV together without feeling the need to say a word. It’s encircling arms that seem to be able to warm you from the inside out and make you feel absolutely comfortable no matter where you are, or what skin you’re in.
Sometimes I feel like I’m a toy.
Sitting in my packaging, waiting
patiently to be played with or talked to.
Someday, I won’t be fun anymore,
and I’ll be discarded.
I take comfort in the fact that
today is not that day.
He was the sort of being who was more comfortable in the thick, dusty silence of his library, in a tall wing-backed chair with a book and a cup of tea, more comfortable with written word and ideas and discourse on theoretics rather than noisy, unreliable, unpredictable people. They drove him insane. They made him uneasy. Couldn’t they see how fallible, how wrong, how needlessly simple they were? And yet here he was, undone in more ways than one by exactly that, a human, a flawed, frivolous, futile and freckled figure. His lover was the sort of man who was comfortable in power, completely at home with a scalpel in hand in a busy operating room, comfortable giving orders in a stressful situation. Or having him pinned to the bed and with all the time and authority in the world to examine him, to delight in the thrum of the pulse-point in his neck, to listen to the rush of air in and out of his agitated lungs, to measure in kisses the length of his bones, the circumference of his joints or the span of his hands. He never thought that he was the sort of being who would be able to find comfort in vulnerability, comfort in trusting the sort of human he had spent so very long trying to avoid.
i miss my family back home. my grandmas cookies were the best. my family in west palm is so relaxing and all i want to do is wake up with them and “veg” out all day long. my aunt plays the guitar beautifully. my mom’s meatloaf makes me warm and fuzzy inside. i miss Christmas as a child.
Ryan
I’ve already had this word, I am just waiting for any other word to try and help me overcome this writer’s block that has mercilessly consumed the very fibres of my being.
Tim
My bed. My beautiful slumber land filled with sweet dreams. I wanna marry it.
alyssa rae
Comfort.
I have no comfort. No one to comfort me. I want him to comfort me. Just to talk to me….Just to hug me. Do I love you? No……But I want you. So badly, to comfort me. Comfort me in my lost memories of you. Comfort me in my lost dreams of you. And most of all……..Just acknowledge my existence.
The comfort of her hands on his skin, it sent chills up his spine and warmth into his heart. They were together again. They had forever, really. The months apart meant nothing when they could hold each other, smell the scent of each other without having to rely on musty clothing, be in the same space together.
life is comfortable if you put all of yourself in it. comfort is first felt in the heart, i.
laying in my bed and imagining the most amazing situation ever.
Here I was, in the comfort of my own home, after such a long and arduous journey. I wanted nothing more than to sit down in front of a fire and rest my weary bones. And that was what I did. But then, as time passed, a thought sprung up in the back of my head, and slowly came to the surface: Where is the life or the adventure, where is the adrenaline pumping through my veins?
that makes you feel calm and relaxed
sleeping
sitting all day
If you’re lying in bed and feeling kind of ok, but then it starts raining and the wind gets up and you know your windows are shut and the wind can’t get you. And then it gets up more and starts hammering the window with the sound of coldness and wetness kept away from you.
It was time for us to return to the hotel that evening, although we had lost all of our money in the casino, it was a comfort that we still able to get our items that we hat purchased for the mini mart with the few dollars that i had stuffed in to my socks, before leaving the night club.
When the man tried to comfort his wife. She shrugged him away. How could he? And why? THAT thought wasn’t comforting at all. She got her keys, her blue purse, a dress, and drove away. She didn’t know where to go to, either.
This was who he was, a perfect cliche in the most disgusting of ways. This was where he felt home, in the place that bore his mind, compromised of pink cell tissue joined to each by but a simple nerve. His mind of black. He was man that was not scared by the silence, but rather appreciated the lack of static it brought with it. He couldn’t be around many humans at once, they nerved his eyes and unknowingly dissolved his sanity. But the thing with this world is; it’s too crowded. He is a cliche, people think his solitude drove him as he was but how wrong they are. This is what felt great, a scalpel in hand to dissect what we humans are. In this perfect solitude, of white silenced walls with plain empty spaces, he would cut to the center of us, laughing to himself at the cliche we all are. We call ourselves great and better than others, but in the end, we’re all alike. Just blood bones.
I’m laying in bed as i type this, next to my husband and covered up by my favorite blanket that I’ve had since i was a child. I love this blanket and covering up with it makes me think of all the times in my life when it has brought me comfort and warmth and it makes me happy. The husband is warm too. ^_^
Such comfort was uncommon. Her soft face, effortless smile, accommodating spirit, all served to make him relaxed in his skin, easy in his mind, comfortable at heart.
Where I am right now, even though it is 4 am. I am in my own room, with my own back yard and the kitty sleeping in my bed wondering where the heck I am. Yeah, I may not be rich, but my life is.
comfort food, warm, soup or stew, must have mashed potato to be truely comforting, reminds of home, of being cared for, nourished, cherished. Or be sweet, rather bland, rice pudding, cake and custard, filling, make you sleepy and safe feeling.
Ooh I like comfort! Comforting things like blankets and warm food in cold weather. Comforting places like bed and comforting people like your friends and family.
The man in the back of my trunk has no need for comfort. Knees to chest he lays lifeless against a Gatorade Jug of lies. I am going home tonight.
I wish I had some. Bathing in the Balm of Gilead. Pain, fire, it continues now and forever. Comfort is forbidden. Crimes must have their payment.
“Do you have to really say that,” Jessica asked Yuri and they were sitting, wait not sitting, they were riding on top of each other on a very colorful dotted mat in the middle of the living room. It would be grateful sin if they were to be naked.
“Well I have to, it’s a game Jessi, and you need to play it,” Yuri said deceitfully and skidded her hand painfully over her friend’s bum to that red oh-so-far dot.
“And this endearingly comfortable,” she groaned.
The darker girl snorted loudly, they should play this game more. “Definitely.”
“Do you have to really say that,” Jessica asked Yuri and they were sitting, wait not sitting, they were riding on top of each other on a very colorful dotted mat in the middle of the living room.
“Well i have to, it’s a game Jessi, and you need to play it,” Yuri said deceitfully and skidded her hand painfully over her friend’s bum to that red oh-so-far dot.
“And this endearingly comfortable.”
The darker girl snorted loudly, they should play this game more.
Comfort is when someone is comfortable at his or her own state. Comfort can come in many different forms as it creates pleasure. One can be comfortable if they are willing to be themselves with other people.
There once was a girl who was too lazy to get out of bed.
There were only two minutes left until school started. Her mom and brothers were screaming for her to get up, but she didn’t want to.
Screw them, she thought. She rolled over and went back to sleep.
She didn’t wake up again. Her brothers had poisoned her.
I don’t understand it, but oh how I want to.
Every day there’s pain.
Head-to-toe.
Inside.
Outside.
Comfort, comfort, comfort.
Don’t understand it.
But oh how I want to.
Oh how I want to.
“You okay?” he asked worriedly.
“Yep,I’m fine” I replied cheerfully.”You better treat my sister well or you’ll get it!”
I furiously nodded to let him know I was okay,and I was no crybaby that needed soothing.Turning away from him,I took a deep breath and let a tear slide down my cheek.
I knew no words could comfort me now.
i’m comfortable with myself right now. i’m at ease. For once in my life, I feel good about the future. I had a kiss tonight that was great! I’m confident, and i’m ready for the future. I’m comfortable with who I am. And quite frankly– I’m ready to kiss someone again. :) comfortable.
She’s sitting there, on the top step, with her hair scraped back into a loose ponytail, the concrete is warm under her palms, and the breeeze that blows past is soft and cool. I want to move closer, wrap my arms around the shoulders I know to be shaking, but I don’t, I know she doesn’t want my comfort.
to me comfort is being dressed in jeans and a big hoodie. comfort to me is being around someone and feeling warm inside. feeling like you are always wearing a smile. comfort to me is being home, with my family and people i love and trust. comfort is the ultimate feeling.
As a brand name this works perfectly to describe the aspirations of the product and the desires of its purchasers.
“How are you doing today?”
pause.
“I’m… I’m doing alright.”
“Are you comfortable? Can I get you anything?”
short pause.
“I’m fine. Thank you.”
“How’s your pain?”
longer pause.
“Good… The morphine helps.”
silence.
“I wish it didn’t have to be like this…”
short pause.
“Me neither, honey.”
“I’m going to miss you so much.”
silence.
Comfort means different things to different people; it’s relative, like everything else in the world. Comfort, to me, is being around people I love and Sunday mornings and crackling fires and family dinners and inside jokes.
comfort? Is that what everyone wants in their life? What they want, in their core, in their heart?
Why? Why have a boring live, why live with the same stuff everyday! No! Sick, that is wrong, please! Think about it and live without comfort.
Comfort food … that is what I need. A nice bowl of stew, steaming hot, with a cup of fresh coffee and a croissant on the side. That will do the trick!
Ice cream and cushions, Christmas and candles. It’s a feeling, something in your stomach, a sense of muscles relaxing. Mind still and silent. Everything still and silent. It’s tangible, repeatable. It’s the evening. It’s the thing I strive for. It’s burgundy and the taste of something delicious sticking to your tongue. It’s not the morning, harsh fingers of light and expectation poking at your day, the sense of grayness surrounding you. It’s warmth.
Comfort is purely subjective. it depends on the persons with whom we have longstanding relationship and things which are essentially required in our day-to-day life. In work, relationship and every other aspects of life, the comfort level is essential.
She always liked pockets. They were her secret hiding places when she was little, where she would keep all the treasures she found in hidden places or on the sidewalk. As she got older she began to create pockets for herself, places where she could feel hidden and safe, comforted by the closeness and protecting of her own little world.
It’s a smile. It’s the nod of affirmation that you exist. It’s a compliment. It’s that helping hand someone lends you when you’re in an unfamiliar place. It’s a phone call with your mom. It’s the hot shower you take to wake up in the morning that’s just a few minutes too long. It’s a pint of chocolate ice cream or a box of truffles. It’s the plush couch you got a deal on. It’s a pile of blankets with the softest one rubbing up against your cheek. It’s steaming hot cocoa that you didn’t have to make yourself. It’s the back massage you haven’t had in so long. It’s knowing that there’s someone who will always text you back. It’s watching TV together without feeling the need to say a word. It’s encircling arms that seem to be able to warm you from the inside out and make you feel absolutely comfortable no matter where you are, or what skin you’re in.
Sometimes I feel like I’m a toy.
Sitting in my packaging, waiting
patiently to be played with or talked to.
Someday, I won’t be fun anymore,
and I’ll be discarded.
I take comfort in the fact that
today is not that day.
He was the sort of being who was more comfortable in the thick, dusty silence of his library, in a tall wing-backed chair with a book and a cup of tea, more comfortable with written word and ideas and discourse on theoretics rather than noisy, unreliable, unpredictable people. They drove him insane. They made him uneasy. Couldn’t they see how fallible, how wrong, how needlessly simple they were? And yet here he was, undone in more ways than one by exactly that, a human, a flawed, frivolous, futile and freckled figure. His lover was the sort of man who was comfortable in power, completely at home with a scalpel in hand in a busy operating room, comfortable giving orders in a stressful situation. Or having him pinned to the bed and with all the time and authority in the world to examine him, to delight in the thrum of the pulse-point in his neck, to listen to the rush of air in and out of his agitated lungs, to measure in kisses the length of his bones, the circumference of his joints or the span of his hands. He never thought that he was the sort of being who would be able to find comfort in vulnerability, comfort in trusting the sort of human he had spent so very long trying to avoid.
i miss my family back home. my grandmas cookies were the best. my family in west palm is so relaxing and all i want to do is wake up with them and “veg” out all day long. my aunt plays the guitar beautifully. my mom’s meatloaf makes me warm and fuzzy inside. i miss Christmas as a child.
I’ve already had this word, I am just waiting for any other word to try and help me overcome this writer’s block that has mercilessly consumed the very fibres of my being.
My bed. My beautiful slumber land filled with sweet dreams. I wanna marry it.
Comfort.
I have no comfort. No one to comfort me. I want him to comfort me. Just to talk to me….Just to hug me. Do I love you? No……But I want you. So badly, to comfort me. Comfort me in my lost memories of you. Comfort me in my lost dreams of you. And most of all……..Just acknowledge my existence.
The comfort of her hands on his skin, it sent chills up his spine and warmth into his heart. They were together again. They had forever, really. The months apart meant nothing when they could hold each other, smell the scent of each other without having to rely on musty clothing, be in the same space together.