Why struggle with the simple things in life, It is nothing to laugh about
Rich
I always struggle to wake up on the morning, but never struggle to sleep at night
Paul
A struggle is nothing to laugh about. Someone who is struggling should not be made fun of. But they often are. A girl who has difficulty losing weight. A boy who constantly has holes in his jeans, never seems to wear anything new. A man who sits by himself at a table for two. They struggle. In ways you don’t understand. And keep it bottled up inside, What’s your struggle? And why is it locked away from view?
Moriah
Molly lives in a bubble. It isn’t transparent, or blue, or plain like the regular ones but it’s equally fragile. On the inside everything is colorful, bright reds, neon pinks, yellows. Things inside the bubble change every second and sometimes it’s bewildering but never boring – no, never boring. She’s tried to let people in, she really has. But every time she describes her bubble to them, they say that funny word – what was it? – schi-zo-phre-nia. It sounds like they’ve made it up, but she’s heard it from so many different people, mostly doctors. Anyway, Molly loves her bubble. It’s her safe space. It’s her happy place. It is definitely NOT a struggle.
mimi was determined to take on Trudy and it was an interesting fight indeed. it was a game of chese at first
rayman
How… perfect, for that is just what defines my quest for words, for the place of song and beauty that I used to frequent before. Before… Before what? All that is left is a struggle, and I can’t see past it.
Taddy
Wasn’t this the word we had the other day? I’m struggling to remember, because I’m pretty sure it was. Then again, I’ve heard and read and writen so many words over the past few days that they all begin to muddle together.
I struggle just to find a way to get the words out. I look up at the roof and think about all the possible combinations. ‘Its not you its me’, ‘I need some time alone’… all the cliches but deep down its just that I don’t care anymore. I look into her deep blue eyes and I can see the happiness so clearly on the surface of her pupils, pushing itself into me. But what can I do? continue with this facade and avoid all conflict like I have done in the past.
Luke
it ain’t easy. working two jobs, none of which pay anything. shit, my commute eats up about two hours of pay each day. what they do then, them jerks in washington is tell me that i am not trying hard enough. well, screw them!
What have you struggled with? You look back and you wonder why you found it so hard in the first place. And that made the struggle worth it, even though you had no choice at the time. And hopefully you’ll remember this lesson, just in time for your next struggle. And you wonder just when that will be and if you’ll remember the lesson you just learned.
Ruth Levitsky
i feel like this word is starting to define me. this week has felt impossible. i hurt in my bones. i think the key to struggle is a reward, and i hope that part comes soon.
The week has been a struggle. Willing myself to get out of bed becomes an increasingly difficult task, and I find that I’m peeling myself from my blankets and pillows later and later each morning.
lauren
“College is hard!” Said the chemist to the mathematician,
“Summation, combinations, integration, addition!
Ions and equations,
All these fucking Asians,
Higher learning seems a war of attrition!”
We struggle with many enemies, many opposing forces, but none are as difficult and magnified as those within ourselves. We feel the consequences of our mistakes and inadequacies first-hand, no delay between ill-action and its effects.
The eternal struggle of sitting next to you for 2 hours and not being able to grab you and kiss your stupid mouth. You laugh like I’m kidding, but there is no struggle more adamant than this. Really. You’re stupid adorable mouth.
Brooke Tuinei
Ohh the Struggle!!
Trying to come up with a halfway decent paragraph which is both coherent and interesting based on a random single word, day in and day out. Why do i torture myself so?
sidd
I couldn’t make my body move. I knew, of course, that it was simple: you just, lift your arm up. You throw your legs over the side of the bed. And you go through the rest of your day in the same fashion. But I was willing my limbs to move with my mind, and not my heart. I felt the pressure build up behind my skull and I knew, after many attempts in the past, that my arm wouldn’t move. There was no heart to will it.
is all around us, we have to deal with it in many ways but still find it hard to find certain ways to deal with it.. we all have things in our lives hat we struggle with wether its addiction or abuse or just stress.. the trick is not to let it trick you into thinking it isnt worth fighting for, because you have to struggle to succeed and thats the bottom line, in my life anyway it seems sometimes thats how it is
ya life is funny.
Ben Jammin
struggling is what you feel when you are in a stressful environment, it creates stress for you as an obstacle to achieving something you want. its annoying.
Jess
struggle
there’s no need to, just breathe through, i see you, see me, love leaves, never, fall leaves, clever, ever in your favor, i taste lips, savor, flavors, of all kind, your kind, my mind, still think of you, dream true, come through, open doors for you, loves been open, spoken words were just broken
lmn
He couldn’t help but notice her smell went stale, her eyes no longer glistened with life. Limp, stolen. Her laugh was almost a whispered sorrow. He held her tight, close, always. She thought of other places. Dreams, wishes.. Life.
Her voice was within a voice, within a voice, struggle… struggling to escape the crevices within. Speak, speak; words. Words come crashing.
Waves. Words come crashing.. cradling the abyss he created for her…
Sometimes she was so anxious and depressed. Any little symptom was of major concern. She was sure she it was all in her mind but nevertheless it was a continuous struggle to keep on top of her emotions.
My scalp aches for your grasp,
And my body longs for your domination.
My mouth waters for your intrusion,
And my skin crawls to feel your sensation
to spill onto in like lava from an
exploding force known like no other,
The whole of me craves
that celestial feeling of pleasure
that can only be found in the soul of a lover.
Over me,
Under me,
and buried deep within…
Satiate my need to feed, I beg of you
My Master,
Place on my face a devious,
Cheshire grin.
With your skin so smooth,
Fitted over muscle so hard,
You make it quite impossible to stop you from
breaking down my guards.
But break them down, you may.
I, Queen, grant you that power…
By spreading my thighs and gifting to you
the pleasure of my precious flower.
Everyone in this world are going through struggle. Some struggle for food and some for shelter, some for wealth and some for health.
UmaDevi
It’s a daily struggle, sometimes, to even just get out of bed in the morning. So she lies upon her wrinkled sheets like a layer of dust, waiting for something to come along and stir her into a frenzy once more.
They fought.
With words, their passion unbound itself,
as they became tangled up in their lust
a knot of dialogue
swarming each other
like bees
or moths to a flame
destructive and insignificant.
And when their conversation was over,
There was nothing left in either of them,
but empty dust
and each calmly walked away.
omg i’ve started to hate this word. i don’t think i can even take it seriously enough to write about it in a real way. instead i’ll say:
words become meaningless if you do not measure them out like gold dust. Like the cure to disease. They are precious for their specificity and uniqueness. If you overuse them…they’re just so many rocks in a riverbed.
It was an epic struggle; one that no one could have imagined
Dora
People are stupid. We hurt others, because we are hurt or we do not like them but we never think of each other. The day you’ll find a bloodbath in your house, not my fault.
edouarda
what to do where to go?
trapped and you’re on my mind
but things are great for you, in time
maybe they’ll be good for me too
but why do I go where I do not belong
pushing towards an answer, wrong, all along
Josh Miller
whoa..struggle…struggle is hard, …after all, it’s struggle…but struggle can be in growth, change transformation….and it also can teach us about perception, as what we see as struggle could be reframed to something different….maybe not struggle, but freedom, flow, let go, let god
Dr. Elizabeth
My entire life is a struggle. But hey I guess that’s how it’s supposed to go. And hey, struggle is such a magnificent word that I don’t mind adopting it into my life. Struggle. The word itself sounds like a struggle. Struggle struggle struggle. I’m obviously struggling at writing this.
This internal struggle, this rigorous blockade of emotions, shutting out life and sound and any external movements you can perceive.
Your heart thunders its way up through your chest, sears pain and blood into your throat, renders you incapable of comprehensible speech, thought–precise, staggering, glitching fragments pieces of puzzles connected to your brain.
Jordan
It’s no fun when they don’t struggle. Just the thought of a victim that excepts their fate takes all the fun and enjoyment out of it. It’s like their last act of defiance is to ruin my glorious, beautiful moment. Fuck them. I’ll make them struggle. They always do.
to press the correct buttons
is it 911 or 119?
the person that answers seems to know
more about what’s going on than me.
i babble around, waving my arms
conversationally.
How’s the weather there?
Here there’s plenty of blood on the ground.
I had to bring an umbrella.
“Dahlia and…three, no, four others. There was a struggle,” she said, eyes still trained on the ground. “She fought them here…and then here,” she took another half dozen steps, to where the dirt was upturned a thousand times over. Even I could tell there’d been action here.
“Then what?” I asked.
She frowned. “They split off. One after the other. I’m not sure if she followed them or if it was the other way around,” she dropped into a crouch, fingers trailing over the soil. “Either way, they matched footprints,”
I struggle everyday. With money, especially. I like to eat out a lot but I should just buy groceries and cook at home. Healthy stuff, you know. But instead it’s coffee and cookies and cupcakes and things that aren’t really good for me. Struggle to survive. Struggle to maintain the balance. I guess I’m doing okay. I guess everyone struggles in this way. Food is a doozie.
Brad
The meanings fall out of his mouth and the soup garbles on the floor. I mean literally, he can look at what has come out of his mouth pooling around his feet. it’s gross, but also beautiful. Letters hit their mark in words, and then they start to shift around. It’s a lazy puzzle of wordless mush. You really can’t get better than this, he think. You really can’t live life and see all it has to offer the moments.
Bananas spring to his mind. He wants one. He is not hallucinating. He knows this is for real.
You don’t know how it is, the struggle with insanity. It is as if I was frozen, on a bridge, while a man in dark clothing conjured large stones from thin air with a flourish of his hand and placed them slowly into my pockets, with a heavy set half man pushing me inch by inch to the edge.
Why struggle with the simple things in life, It is nothing to laugh about
I always struggle to wake up on the morning, but never struggle to sleep at night
A struggle is nothing to laugh about. Someone who is struggling should not be made fun of. But they often are. A girl who has difficulty losing weight. A boy who constantly has holes in his jeans, never seems to wear anything new. A man who sits by himself at a table for two. They struggle. In ways you don’t understand. And keep it bottled up inside, What’s your struggle? And why is it locked away from view?
Molly lives in a bubble. It isn’t transparent, or blue, or plain like the regular ones but it’s equally fragile. On the inside everything is colorful, bright reds, neon pinks, yellows. Things inside the bubble change every second and sometimes it’s bewildering but never boring – no, never boring. She’s tried to let people in, she really has. But every time she describes her bubble to them, they say that funny word – what was it? – schi-zo-phre-nia. It sounds like they’ve made it up, but she’s heard it from so many different people, mostly doctors. Anyway, Molly loves her bubble. It’s her safe space. It’s her happy place. It is definitely NOT a struggle.
mimi was determined to take on Trudy and it was an interesting fight indeed. it was a game of chese at first
How… perfect, for that is just what defines my quest for words, for the place of song and beauty that I used to frequent before. Before… Before what? All that is left is a struggle, and I can’t see past it.
Wasn’t this the word we had the other day? I’m struggling to remember, because I’m pretty sure it was. Then again, I’ve heard and read and writen so many words over the past few days that they all begin to muddle together.
I struggle just to find a way to get the words out. I look up at the roof and think about all the possible combinations. ‘Its not you its me’, ‘I need some time alone’… all the cliches but deep down its just that I don’t care anymore. I look into her deep blue eyes and I can see the happiness so clearly on the surface of her pupils, pushing itself into me. But what can I do? continue with this facade and avoid all conflict like I have done in the past.
it ain’t easy. working two jobs, none of which pay anything. shit, my commute eats up about two hours of pay each day. what they do then, them jerks in washington is tell me that i am not trying hard enough. well, screw them!
What have you struggled with? You look back and you wonder why you found it so hard in the first place. And that made the struggle worth it, even though you had no choice at the time. And hopefully you’ll remember this lesson, just in time for your next struggle. And you wonder just when that will be and if you’ll remember the lesson you just learned.
i feel like this word is starting to define me. this week has felt impossible. i hurt in my bones. i think the key to struggle is a reward, and i hope that part comes soon.
The week has been a struggle. Willing myself to get out of bed becomes an increasingly difficult task, and I find that I’m peeling myself from my blankets and pillows later and later each morning.
“College is hard!” Said the chemist to the mathematician,
“Summation, combinations, integration, addition!
Ions and equations,
All these fucking Asians,
Higher learning seems a war of attrition!”
We struggle with many enemies, many opposing forces, but none are as difficult and magnified as those within ourselves. We feel the consequences of our mistakes and inadequacies first-hand, no delay between ill-action and its effects.
The eternal struggle of sitting next to you for 2 hours and not being able to grab you and kiss your stupid mouth. You laugh like I’m kidding, but there is no struggle more adamant than this. Really. You’re stupid adorable mouth.
Ohh the Struggle!!
Trying to come up with a halfway decent paragraph which is both coherent and interesting based on a random single word, day in and day out. Why do i torture myself so?
I couldn’t make my body move. I knew, of course, that it was simple: you just, lift your arm up. You throw your legs over the side of the bed. And you go through the rest of your day in the same fashion. But I was willing my limbs to move with my mind, and not my heart. I felt the pressure build up behind my skull and I knew, after many attempts in the past, that my arm wouldn’t move. There was no heart to will it.
is all around us, we have to deal with it in many ways but still find it hard to find certain ways to deal with it.. we all have things in our lives hat we struggle with wether its addiction or abuse or just stress.. the trick is not to let it trick you into thinking it isnt worth fighting for, because you have to struggle to succeed and thats the bottom line, in my life anyway it seems sometimes thats how it is
ya life is funny.
struggling is what you feel when you are in a stressful environment, it creates stress for you as an obstacle to achieving something you want. its annoying.
struggle
there’s no need to, just breathe through, i see you, see me, love leaves, never, fall leaves, clever, ever in your favor, i taste lips, savor, flavors, of all kind, your kind, my mind, still think of you, dream true, come through, open doors for you, loves been open, spoken words were just broken
He couldn’t help but notice her smell went stale, her eyes no longer glistened with life. Limp, stolen. Her laugh was almost a whispered sorrow. He held her tight, close, always. She thought of other places. Dreams, wishes.. Life.
Her voice was within a voice, within a voice, struggle… struggling to escape the crevices within. Speak, speak; words. Words come crashing.
Waves. Words come crashing.. cradling the abyss he created for her…
Sometimes she was so anxious and depressed. Any little symptom was of major concern. She was sure she it was all in her mind but nevertheless it was a continuous struggle to keep on top of her emotions.
My scalp aches for your grasp,
And my body longs for your domination.
My mouth waters for your intrusion,
And my skin crawls to feel your sensation
to spill onto in like lava from an
exploding force known like no other,
The whole of me craves
that celestial feeling of pleasure
that can only be found in the soul of a lover.
Over me,
Under me,
and buried deep within…
Satiate my need to feed, I beg of you
My Master,
Place on my face a devious,
Cheshire grin.
With your skin so smooth,
Fitted over muscle so hard,
You make it quite impossible to stop you from
breaking down my guards.
But break them down, you may.
I, Queen, grant you that power…
By spreading my thighs and gifting to you
the pleasure of my precious flower.
Everyone in this world are going through struggle. Some struggle for food and some for shelter, some for wealth and some for health.
It’s a daily struggle, sometimes, to even just get out of bed in the morning. So she lies upon her wrinkled sheets like a layer of dust, waiting for something to come along and stir her into a frenzy once more.
They fought.
With words, their passion unbound itself,
as they became tangled up in their lust
a knot of dialogue
swarming each other
like bees
or moths to a flame
destructive and insignificant.
And when their conversation was over,
There was nothing left in either of them,
but empty dust
and each calmly walked away.
omg i’ve started to hate this word. i don’t think i can even take it seriously enough to write about it in a real way. instead i’ll say:
words become meaningless if you do not measure them out like gold dust. Like the cure to disease. They are precious for their specificity and uniqueness. If you overuse them…they’re just so many rocks in a riverbed.
It was an epic struggle; one that no one could have imagined
People are stupid. We hurt others, because we are hurt or we do not like them but we never think of each other. The day you’ll find a bloodbath in your house, not my fault.
what to do where to go?
trapped and you’re on my mind
but things are great for you, in time
maybe they’ll be good for me too
but why do I go where I do not belong
pushing towards an answer, wrong, all along
whoa..struggle…struggle is hard, …after all, it’s struggle…but struggle can be in growth, change transformation….and it also can teach us about perception, as what we see as struggle could be reframed to something different….maybe not struggle, but freedom, flow, let go, let god
My entire life is a struggle. But hey I guess that’s how it’s supposed to go. And hey, struggle is such a magnificent word that I don’t mind adopting it into my life. Struggle. The word itself sounds like a struggle. Struggle struggle struggle. I’m obviously struggling at writing this.
This internal struggle, this rigorous blockade of emotions, shutting out life and sound and any external movements you can perceive.
Your heart thunders its way up through your chest, sears pain and blood into your throat, renders you incapable of comprehensible speech, thought–precise, staggering, glitching fragments pieces of puzzles connected to your brain.
It’s no fun when they don’t struggle. Just the thought of a victim that excepts their fate takes all the fun and enjoyment out of it. It’s like their last act of defiance is to ruin my glorious, beautiful moment. Fuck them. I’ll make them struggle. They always do.
to press the correct buttons
is it 911 or 119?
the person that answers seems to know
more about what’s going on than me.
i babble around, waving my arms
conversationally.
How’s the weather there?
Here there’s plenty of blood on the ground.
I had to bring an umbrella.
“Dahlia and…three, no, four others. There was a struggle,” she said, eyes still trained on the ground. “She fought them here…and then here,” she took another half dozen steps, to where the dirt was upturned a thousand times over. Even I could tell there’d been action here.
“Then what?” I asked.
She frowned. “They split off. One after the other. I’m not sure if she followed them or if it was the other way around,” she dropped into a crouch, fingers trailing over the soil. “Either way, they matched footprints,”
I struggle everyday. With money, especially. I like to eat out a lot but I should just buy groceries and cook at home. Healthy stuff, you know. But instead it’s coffee and cookies and cupcakes and things that aren’t really good for me. Struggle to survive. Struggle to maintain the balance. I guess I’m doing okay. I guess everyone struggles in this way. Food is a doozie.
The meanings fall out of his mouth and the soup garbles on the floor. I mean literally, he can look at what has come out of his mouth pooling around his feet. it’s gross, but also beautiful. Letters hit their mark in words, and then they start to shift around. It’s a lazy puzzle of wordless mush. You really can’t get better than this, he think. You really can’t live life and see all it has to offer the moments.
Bananas spring to his mind. He wants one. He is not hallucinating. He knows this is for real.
I have struggled a lot today.
You don’t know how it is, the struggle with insanity. It is as if I was frozen, on a bridge, while a man in dark clothing conjured large stones from thin air with a flourish of his hand and placed them slowly into my pockets, with a heavy set half man pushing me inch by inch to the edge.