Sometimes I can’t tell if someone’s for real. Kayla said all the right things, but the deadness in her eyes belied what I think was in her heart. Or maybe she meant it all.
What about real? Our mind tells us what’s real and whats not through a combination of our senses and electrical impulses. I believe real is subjective. Because our minds are easily fooled if triggered with the right things.
Rain Silverhowl
it’s not what we see. it’s not what we feel. those are subjective. real is objective. it is what we do not see. it is what we do not feel. but then again it is what we see and it is what we feel. it’s in life. it’s in love. it’s in laughter. it’s in the tears.
jess
It’s just… never felt real to me. This world.” She said, looking off into nowhere. It was one of those days where she could stare off into space and think of nothing. Letting her mind be free of thoughts was refreshing, without burdens or cares.
It wasn’t as if she were lonely, it was more like she was in her own habitat. It felt natural for her mind to float off.
Reality is interesting. I don’t think reality is something that you see everyday. Most people spend so much of their time worrying about what reality should be, that they can’t stop to appreciate what it really is. My reality is wonderful.
Laura
She turned her face towards the sunlight, seeping through the dismal trees. Its golden rays bathed her face over and over with their warmth. “I can dream again,” she whispered to no one. “I can breathe.”
When they say talk about real all the REALly want us to talk about is the word “real” but when i think about it i think we should be abel to talk about word like REALly and stuff like that that have the word real in it because if they want us to talk about this stuff i say we should be able to use words like that to.
Written By,
No Body Knows
No Body Knows
i once had a imaginary friend,but when we were crossing the street he got hit by a car and i got a real friend and this is brought to you by some random black guy
How real can I be
when all I do
is ignore, read,
write,
imagine
I’m not even visible most most days,
since They can’t see me
If I don’t see them
It’s almost an addiction
how I
Ignore what’s there
and make something else
in my mind
I’ve never been real
if real even exists
Nori
Reality and fantasy. I find my self wishing it was the other way around, as if fantasy was real and reality was fantasy. There’s more of a romantic side to fantasy then in reality; in reality things tend to be harsh and sad. Although a fantasy could be sad, it always has a way to reach in and pull, forcing you to feel. reality tends to desensitize you, I’ve found myself cold and I try not to feel, I’ve been scared and hurt over and over again, I no longer am sad when someone leaves or hurts me one way or another. And when I read a fantasy it allows me to be in a world where I haven’t been hurt and I haven’t been scared. I feel again, not knowing what was real. Wishing it was real.
Tigerlily
“Real or not real?”
I don’t really like that. I mean, I guess it was kinda cute. Whatever.
“If I’m Real, and you’re a Figment, how come you seem so clear to me? So… I dunno, so there?”
He smiled sadly. “You’ve got quite an imagination, I must give you that,” he said. “But someday you’ll grow up, and it’ll be as it always was, and as it is even now: as if I had never existed.
this is real, the pressure of my butt on teh chair, my father in a hospital in florida, posisbly dying though no one is ready for that, are you ever ready? coughing up blood, mom lurking in the hallway, one part of her mind still trying to choose her costume jewelry for the day. we cling to costume, to custom, to anything that makes us feel like we are real, if only for the second, shimmering in a drop of water about to evaporate, and that is it.
Karen
nothing, why would you want real? why would you want reality when you can have your own dream world? Real usually means your accepting something you do not want too, so why accept it? Why accept when you can deny? When you can create and make your own? I do not want real, I refuse real and open my mind to fake, open my mind to dreams. I open my mind the unknown, to the beauty of fiction.
kelley
How would you define a word that’s very essence is completely subjective? My real isn’t your real, no matter how we experience our own realities, they’ll never coincide with each other.
Dina
Real is something that exist so an object or something that we can feel, as love or anger. Real it’s also the name of Brazil’s money..
Emanuel
i love you and your eyes
always so bright and happy
i love you and your eyes
whenever you look at me
i love you and your eyes
for the buttons that they are
you don’t see the ugly things
that horrifically outnumbers
all the pretty that’s in me
(i love you, let me tear them out)
Everything is real. The sky, the clouds, the sun, the moon, the earth. Even dreams are real. They exist for the moment that we are in them. We define what is real my our senses and our faith: a table is real because we can touch it, see it. But God is also real to to those who believe, despite not fitting these categories.
devilflower903
she wanted a real boy, not this plastic like face in the window. she hated how model faces looked: all angle, no substance. she loved the beards of man, and decided that one day she would live in the woods with a husky muscle man and chop wood and build a log cabin together.
Zoe Edelman Brier
she wanted a real boy, not this plastic like face in the window. she hated how model faces looked: all angle, no substance. she loved the beards of man, and decided that one day she would live in the woods with a husky muscle man and chop wood and build a log cabin
Zoe Edelman Brier
The dog, the cat, the mouse; all pets i have had. People think that real pets are those you can love, just because you can’t love a mouse doesn’t mean it isn’t a real pet. Pets are loved by all, no matter how big, or small. Real pets can love you back, my mouse loved me.
Ginny MacMillan
i don’t think real is to be. what if life is meant to be shorter then emotions. i cant imagine the world behind the grasshopper. hamlet was wrong.
hamlet
a reality based on nothing more than a dream,we live everyday thinking its we are who we are and live each day in a set way..but whos to say whats real and whats imagined? maybe we’re all blind in some way,with no way out, no way to open our eyes.make it stop make it end make it real
gabriele
When Anna lost her real heart, the broken one, the one with a hole, she wasn’t sure that the fake one could ever do the same job. Not just pumping her blood, anything could do that, but could a fake heart fall in love?
Jules
bạn không thể biết rằng những gì bạn học những gì bạn nghe kể là sự thật được. Tất cả mọi thứ có thể là thật mà cũng có thể là không. Tất cả chúng ta có thể hiện nay đang sống ở trong ma trận. TẤT CẢ có thể hoàn toàn là ảo ảnh.
she wanted it to be real. she didn’t want to hide her emotion, but she didn’t want to force any emotion either. sometimes she felt happy, sometimes she felt sad. there were moments when she thought she was completely free of that sadness, of the feeling that something was missing, but otherwise it was like a wave crashing down on her. but at least she was going to stop pretending.
real, the world someone use to assure something did happen or sometime use it to express that what other said is not true like “for real?” they rise their voice a little to indicate that a question.
Khue
ce este real şi ce nu este real? ce este imaginar este real sau nu. …. eu sînt real? limita dintre real şi ireal este mult mai confuză decît credem că este
What’s real?? Is it us?? Time?? Place?? Feelings?? Or are we un-real?? Are we a fairy-tale?? Like Cinderella or Snow White?? Real is like a dream, it seems real, but maybe it’s not… Maybe it’s not.
Tahlia
the clouds in the sky looked so real this morning. I couldn’t stop staring at them just to make sure they didn’t disappear before my eyes. It often started this way in the season Orange County called winter. The early hours would be grey, breezy and fresh, as if something could be different today. something would be new. I would always feel a stab of betrayal though, when the morning mist dissipated and the inevitable sun would slowly stream through and burn the calm blanket of moisture away. Turns out it would be just like yesterday, just another day on the calendar sliding passed on the wind into the atmosphere.
Lucinda
everything is real, and nothing may be real at the same time. you may be watching a movie, or writing, or talking to someone. very imaginative, i love real, because it can explain everything and nothing at the same time.
Sometimes I can’t tell if someone’s for real. Kayla said all the right things, but the deadness in her eyes belied what I think was in her heart. Or maybe she meant it all.
What about real? Our mind tells us what’s real and whats not through a combination of our senses and electrical impulses. I believe real is subjective. Because our minds are easily fooled if triggered with the right things.
it’s not what we see. it’s not what we feel. those are subjective. real is objective. it is what we do not see. it is what we do not feel. but then again it is what we see and it is what we feel. it’s in life. it’s in love. it’s in laughter. it’s in the tears.
It’s just… never felt real to me. This world.” She said, looking off into nowhere. It was one of those days where she could stare off into space and think of nothing. Letting her mind be free of thoughts was refreshing, without burdens or cares.
It wasn’t as if she were lonely, it was more like she was in her own habitat. It felt natural for her mind to float off.
Reality is interesting. I don’t think reality is something that you see everyday. Most people spend so much of their time worrying about what reality should be, that they can’t stop to appreciate what it really is. My reality is wonderful.
She turned her face towards the sunlight, seeping through the dismal trees. Its golden rays bathed her face over and over with their warmth. “I can dream again,” she whispered to no one. “I can breathe.”
When they say talk about real all the REALly want us to talk about is the word “real” but when i think about it i think we should be abel to talk about word like REALly and stuff like that that have the word real in it because if they want us to talk about this stuff i say we should be able to use words like that to.
Written By,
No Body Knows
i once had a imaginary friend,but when we were crossing the street he got hit by a car and i got a real friend and this is brought to you by some random black guy
How real can I be
when all I do
is ignore, read,
write,
imagine
I’m not even visible most most days,
since They can’t see me
If I don’t see them
It’s almost an addiction
how I
Ignore what’s there
and make something else
in my mind
I’ve never been real
if real even exists
Reality and fantasy. I find my self wishing it was the other way around, as if fantasy was real and reality was fantasy. There’s more of a romantic side to fantasy then in reality; in reality things tend to be harsh and sad. Although a fantasy could be sad, it always has a way to reach in and pull, forcing you to feel. reality tends to desensitize you, I’ve found myself cold and I try not to feel, I’ve been scared and hurt over and over again, I no longer am sad when someone leaves or hurts me one way or another. And when I read a fantasy it allows me to be in a world where I haven’t been hurt and I haven’t been scared. I feel again, not knowing what was real. Wishing it was real.
“Real or not real?”
I don’t really like that. I mean, I guess it was kinda cute. Whatever.
“If I’m Real, and you’re a Figment, how come you seem so clear to me? So… I dunno, so there?”
He smiled sadly. “You’ve got quite an imagination, I must give you that,” he said. “But someday you’ll grow up, and it’ll be as it always was, and as it is even now: as if I had never existed.
this is real, the pressure of my butt on teh chair, my father in a hospital in florida, posisbly dying though no one is ready for that, are you ever ready? coughing up blood, mom lurking in the hallway, one part of her mind still trying to choose her costume jewelry for the day. we cling to costume, to custom, to anything that makes us feel like we are real, if only for the second, shimmering in a drop of water about to evaporate, and that is it.
nothing, why would you want real? why would you want reality when you can have your own dream world? Real usually means your accepting something you do not want too, so why accept it? Why accept when you can deny? When you can create and make your own? I do not want real, I refuse real and open my mind to fake, open my mind to dreams. I open my mind the unknown, to the beauty of fiction.
How would you define a word that’s very essence is completely subjective? My real isn’t your real, no matter how we experience our own realities, they’ll never coincide with each other.
Real is something that exist so an object or something that we can feel, as love or anger. Real it’s also the name of Brazil’s money..
i love you and your eyes
always so bright and happy
i love you and your eyes
whenever you look at me
i love you and your eyes
for the buttons that they are
you don’t see the ugly things
that horrifically outnumbers
all the pretty that’s in me
(i love you, let me tear them out)
Everything is real. The sky, the clouds, the sun, the moon, the earth. Even dreams are real. They exist for the moment that we are in them. We define what is real my our senses and our faith: a table is real because we can touch it, see it. But God is also real to to those who believe, despite not fitting these categories.
she wanted a real boy, not this plastic like face in the window. she hated how model faces looked: all angle, no substance. she loved the beards of man, and decided that one day she would live in the woods with a husky muscle man and chop wood and build a log cabin together.
she wanted a real boy, not this plastic like face in the window. she hated how model faces looked: all angle, no substance. she loved the beards of man, and decided that one day she would live in the woods with a husky muscle man and chop wood and build a log cabin
The dog, the cat, the mouse; all pets i have had. People think that real pets are those you can love, just because you can’t love a mouse doesn’t mean it isn’t a real pet. Pets are loved by all, no matter how big, or small. Real pets can love you back, my mouse loved me.
i don’t think real is to be. what if life is meant to be shorter then emotions. i cant imagine the world behind the grasshopper. hamlet was wrong.
a reality based on nothing more than a dream,we live everyday thinking its we are who we are and live each day in a set way..but whos to say whats real and whats imagined? maybe we’re all blind in some way,with no way out, no way to open our eyes.make it stop make it end make it real
When Anna lost her real heart, the broken one, the one with a hole, she wasn’t sure that the fake one could ever do the same job. Not just pumping her blood, anything could do that, but could a fake heart fall in love?
bạn không thể biết rằng những gì bạn học những gì bạn nghe kể là sự thật được. Tất cả mọi thứ có thể là thật mà cũng có thể là không. Tất cả chúng ta có thể hiện nay đang sống ở trong ma trận. TẤT CẢ có thể hoàn toàn là ảo ảnh.
she wanted it to be real. she didn’t want to hide her emotion, but she didn’t want to force any emotion either. sometimes she felt happy, sometimes she felt sad. there were moments when she thought she was completely free of that sadness, of the feeling that something was missing, but otherwise it was like a wave crashing down on her. but at least she was going to stop pretending.
real, the world someone use to assure something did happen or sometime use it to express that what other said is not true like “for real?” they rise their voice a little to indicate that a question.
ce este real şi ce nu este real? ce este imaginar este real sau nu. …. eu sînt real? limita dintre real şi ireal este mult mai confuză decît credem că este
What’s real?? Is it us?? Time?? Place?? Feelings?? Or are we un-real?? Are we a fairy-tale?? Like Cinderella or Snow White?? Real is like a dream, it seems real, but maybe it’s not… Maybe it’s not.
the clouds in the sky looked so real this morning. I couldn’t stop staring at them just to make sure they didn’t disappear before my eyes. It often started this way in the season Orange County called winter. The early hours would be grey, breezy and fresh, as if something could be different today. something would be new. I would always feel a stab of betrayal though, when the morning mist dissipated and the inevitable sun would slowly stream through and burn the calm blanket of moisture away. Turns out it would be just like yesterday, just another day on the calendar sliding passed on the wind into the atmosphere.
everything is real, and nothing may be real at the same time. you may be watching a movie, or writing, or talking to someone. very imaginative, i love real, because it can explain everything and nothing at the same time.