Life is terminal. Living is terminal. That’s what’s all about. Drop off your mobile devices and seize the day. Live for the moment. The best ones are those we never get to photograph. We save them in our memories for eternity. Or just for as long as we shall remain on this earth anyway.
Garota
The songs in her ear were stale, and her burrito tasted like cardboard. She’d seen all the movies on her iPad at least twice, and read every magazine at the terminal news stand. So when Mr. New and Interesting approached to request a seat beside her, she practically jumped to oblige him.
Terminal, like curable, only the cure is cessation, is ending, is ceasing. That’s a cure. A cure is the ending of a disease state, so death is like a cure. That’s a nice way of thinking about it. Comforting. Somehow. Life is kind of a disease, it’s filled with suffering, and I guess death is the cure for life?
I’m terminal and you are the opposite. What does terminal even mean? Probably something negative, I am negative. You are the only thing positive in my life, which is terminal. Unhealthy. Deadly. Because when you are gone, I will be nothing but an empty shell, waiting to be done. I am terminal, please don’t try to help me, there is nothing more to help, to save. I am nothing and you are everything. I don’t want to be terminal. I want to exist outside of you. I guess we just don’t get everything we want in life, because if we did, we’d all be terminal. That is not healthy, that is deadly. Being terminal is deadly. Beware of the terminal girl, she is deadly.
emily blanton
i’ll go to the terminal tomorrow, but i don’t now how to get there. i’m gona aks to my father, maybe nows
Michele
the sound of pitter-patter
echoes.
the only thing that drowns it out
is the offbeat rhythm
of the accompanying heartbeat,
the sweat beading on the brow,
and the dream slowly dying
that although he thought he could make it,
there was no way he was going to
make his connecting flight.
I waited for him. The plane was close. The excitement was too much to bare. We have waited months, days…years for this. I stood at the terminal, my heart beating out of my chest….the crowd flowed endlessly. I stood on my toes, looking for a familiar face….He never showed.
Ariel
It was the last night. The last sight. The last breath. She couldn’t imagine the end, and yet she was so close to it. Goodbyes were never enough. Memories seemed to fill her mind. Tears were flowing. IT is time
Andrea
Hello, My friends are very nice, i like them, they are very fun. We have alot of parties together and listen to music. I like my friends. Alot of them like cats. Meow. My friends like to be together and do stuff like just chill out, go eating or shopping.
Mannu
my grandma is terminal. i found her laying in her hospital bed last saturday and knew that was the last time i was going to see her. I walked into the room, surprised to see her eyes light up as I approached her. I wasn’t even sure if she would be awake.
A few hours later, after I had held her hand and told her that I loved her my aunt asked her, “Do you know who this is?” she was pointing at me.
My grandma’s eyes were filled with tears, the oxygen in her nose was clicking on and off. She looked at me, then looked back at my aunt and said, “no.”
Ashley
She stood at the tube and started for the entrance. Home was only 3 hours away and she could feel it. The excitement was electric.
Morgan gordy
The man looked around the rails, then waited quietly in the corner of the station. Thirty more seconds, then it would be over.
It occurred as expected and he threw himself under the rails as the train was just about to come whooshing into the terminal station except, of course, that it was the wrong set of tracks and instead he fell into Narnia.
The terminal was a buzz of sound. I didn’t even know where to go, it was so crowded. Then I saw where I needed to be, and if I didn’t hurry I would miss my flight!
I looked down the hallway and all I could see were the vibrant colors and details all over the walls. They looked a bit disturbing, I was a bit freaked out by it all. To airport terminals always look this wild?
to be honest im not to sure i know what terminal means. i think it has something to do with air planes. ive only ever been on a plane once that was fun, i was up for about 24 hours. it wasnt a very long flight but i didnt sleep. not because i was scared but because i was exited. hights dont scare me, i find them exhilarating. teminal
Summer
I couldn’t tell where I was at. I went though the door and noticed all these wild crazy looking paintings. These paintings were almost occult like in nature. I would of never expected to see this at a terminal. I was spooked!
kevin
when someone has an incurable disease that can not be cured.
A part of a bus station or airport where people gather to get on the veichal
Cristian Audi
We’re still together in the crowd, breathing grease and coffee. Concentrate on the moment. We’ve got another half hour, twenty minutes, ten. Time to go. Don’t think past this moment. I only start crying after we hug.
theladygeneral
It was on its last legs: outdated operating system, a flickering monitor, and inexplicably sticky keys. Not the sort of thing one could really come back from. There was no cure for old. Oh, it had a good run; lots of important data had been displayed, and plenty of valuable information had been gathered from its once-vibrant screen, but no more. Soon, they’d pull the plug and probably move on to something newer. Something slimmer. Something that didn’t run DOS.
It wasn’t the kind of place that she’d expected to find herself in. Not this early anyway. It was a cold, dark place. She was lonely, and even tho people passed by her, they only proffered tight fake smiles, the kind you give when you have nothing else better to offer. She hated LAX.
julie
i don’t know how this could have happened. i dedicated every second of my life, every waking hour, to taking care of myself. i never wanted to end up frail and weak and breaking like he was, but now here i am. i’m at the beginning of the same path he just finished.
amber
Tremor in the hand when the realization sinks in that you’re terminal, good gravy, wet navy, you’re going to the bottom of the hurt locker someday. A crater on the dark side of the moon, or maybe it’s not as black as that. Maybe it’s a pearl on a near empty canvas. A shell of an idea lost on a sea that never was, or is no longer.
Undine is the name of a suit that was worn. She got up and went to bed, went to work, clip-clopped up and down stairs, very routine. But when the suit came off, that’s where I stepped in, and with my eyes I deduced how the scene changed in topography. The lay of the land as it were.
“I know,” said the doctor. “I’ll tell you the diagnosis after my trip on the train this week. I’ll see you later!”
The Skeleton King came into the room with their paperwork to show them to the checkout desk. They had already hit the deductible so they wouldn’t have to worry about getting their heads cut off.
i just told my brother today that he needs to finesse the “i’m dying” conversation should it come to that. hopefully he’s not, because that would be really bad timing on my part for a joke of that kind. hm…. i should probably text him and make sure he’s not dying. yikes
It’s 7:30pm at the bus terminal. Here we meet again. This time, your unruly hair are tucked into a burgundy beanie. You are wearing a navy coat with a white button down and black ripped jeans. Your sling bag is pinned with the same DC Comics’ characters’ buttons. Your head is slightly swaying with the music that is played through your headphones. I always wonder what you’re listening to.
Hi, I have been noticing you for weeks. I just wanted to let you know that you seem like a cool guy.
Will that sound too creepy? Oh well, until we meet again. See you tomorrow.
abigail rae
This means the end. It is terminal. It reminds me of a term paper. I don’t know what else to say about it. Formal rhymes with Terminal. It probably also means final. I guess this is my last sentence haha.
Jess
She paced the long row of windows, staring alternately at the planes (nosing up to the terminal and then wheeling away, one by one, in a slow parade) and her reflection on the glass. She pulled her phone out of her pocket (another hour had somehow passed), though she knew it was impossible for him to have messaged her. He didn’t have an American phone, and (maybe) he was still on the plane anyway.
It was terminal. The cancer was, I mean. He told me, of course, but he played it off as though it was okay. And sometimes I’m okay- I ignore it, forget that he’s terminal. But sometimes I don’t. It’s all I can think about. The fact that he won’t be there to meet my children, he can’t be there at me wedding, won’t get to do any of the things he wanted to, kills me. He especially wanted to see me become famous- and I would play his song as a tribute to him, my best friend. He will never see that.
grace
Finally we reached the end of the line. I’d been in London 13 years, but never been to this end of the Northern Line. The problem with the end of the line is you have to decide where to go next. Luckily there are two ends to every track.
I looked around the crowed terminal that would be empty in a matter of minutes if it wasn’t for the excessive security checks and stamping of passports. Things would go a lot smoother if we just trusted one another. I scanned the large room again. All I could see were rows and rows of people, not one a familiar face. Maybe I had past some of these people on the street and I just didn’t recognize them or maybe I really didn’t know anyone. “Hey you ready to go?” I turned to my right. Ah! A familiar face. My wife and our two children were standing eagerly by myself. I picked up my daughter and swung her around so that she was hanging on my hip. “I got my luggage, I’m ready” her squeals of glee were muffled by the sounds of the other vacationers and businessmen.
They walked in the cold room, tears falling down soft cheeks, holding hands and not talking. They looked in each other’s eyes with only one thought in mind. That painful terminal thought driving them to jump.
Like at the airport. I enjoy terminals, l;ong walks lots of shopping. Very expennsive though. Last time I was in a terminal I was on my way home from North Carolina. I broke my han. Oh man how painful. Anyways the fact that I thought about airport terminal first shows im not very knowledgable. There a technical term for terminal as well, as in where you plug in a cable. A terminal, or something you
Daniel Covarrubias
I think of long lines at an airport terminal. I think of masses of people who pour in and out and the ones that get stuck in the terminals due to cancellations. I think of how spoiled we are as Americans to have such things – so many countries aren’t so blessed.
Annette
Terminal was red and not really huge
She hold it in hand like it was the most precious thing ever. I’ve never really understood it but anyway – I still loved her. The terminal was like another big mistery that winds up our relationship, a sacred object – sacred and red and not so big.
Evu
Every illness is terminal here. Every breath you struggle to obtain curtails your life second by second, hour by hour, day by day. The Order of the Clocks keep each member’s pockets filled to the brim with broken minute hands. Their mustaches flick and swish as capably as a time bomb scraping away the last moments of the dying stars.
Belinda Roddie
il ricordo degli aeroporti, che sono i miei (non) luoghi preferiti. Ecco, stare in un aeroporto, in attesa di una ereo, quelle ore/minuti sono tra i momenti più belli perché la mia mente trova pace, in quelli spazi e osservando tutto quel traffico di persone. Spero che avvenga presto!
eu
The terminal was packed with people trying to get out of the country. The announcement of the possibility of imminent death was enough for most people to abandon life entirely. And just like all the others, I was no different. I sat solemnly, hoping for some type of good news.
Life is terminal. Living is terminal. That’s what’s all about. Drop off your mobile devices and seize the day. Live for the moment. The best ones are those we never get to photograph. We save them in our memories for eternity. Or just for as long as we shall remain on this earth anyway.
The songs in her ear were stale, and her burrito tasted like cardboard. She’d seen all the movies on her iPad at least twice, and read every magazine at the terminal news stand. So when Mr. New and Interesting approached to request a seat beside her, she practically jumped to oblige him.
Terminal, like curable, only the cure is cessation, is ending, is ceasing. That’s a cure. A cure is the ending of a disease state, so death is like a cure. That’s a nice way of thinking about it. Comforting. Somehow. Life is kind of a disease, it’s filled with suffering, and I guess death is the cure for life?
I’m terminal and you are the opposite. What does terminal even mean? Probably something negative, I am negative. You are the only thing positive in my life, which is terminal. Unhealthy. Deadly. Because when you are gone, I will be nothing but an empty shell, waiting to be done. I am terminal, please don’t try to help me, there is nothing more to help, to save. I am nothing and you are everything. I don’t want to be terminal. I want to exist outside of you. I guess we just don’t get everything we want in life, because if we did, we’d all be terminal. That is not healthy, that is deadly. Being terminal is deadly. Beware of the terminal girl, she is deadly.
i’ll go to the terminal tomorrow, but i don’t now how to get there. i’m gona aks to my father, maybe nows
the sound of pitter-patter
echoes.
the only thing that drowns it out
is the offbeat rhythm
of the accompanying heartbeat,
the sweat beading on the brow,
and the dream slowly dying
that although he thought he could make it,
there was no way he was going to
make his connecting flight.
I waited for him. The plane was close. The excitement was too much to bare. We have waited months, days…years for this. I stood at the terminal, my heart beating out of my chest….the crowd flowed endlessly. I stood on my toes, looking for a familiar face….He never showed.
It was the last night. The last sight. The last breath. She couldn’t imagine the end, and yet she was so close to it. Goodbyes were never enough. Memories seemed to fill her mind. Tears were flowing. IT is time
Hello, My friends are very nice, i like them, they are very fun. We have alot of parties together and listen to music. I like my friends. Alot of them like cats. Meow. My friends like to be together and do stuff like just chill out, go eating or shopping.
my grandma is terminal. i found her laying in her hospital bed last saturday and knew that was the last time i was going to see her. I walked into the room, surprised to see her eyes light up as I approached her. I wasn’t even sure if she would be awake.
A few hours later, after I had held her hand and told her that I loved her my aunt asked her, “Do you know who this is?” she was pointing at me.
My grandma’s eyes were filled with tears, the oxygen in her nose was clicking on and off. She looked at me, then looked back at my aunt and said, “no.”
She stood at the tube and started for the entrance. Home was only 3 hours away and she could feel it. The excitement was electric.
The man looked around the rails, then waited quietly in the corner of the station. Thirty more seconds, then it would be over.
It occurred as expected and he threw himself under the rails as the train was just about to come whooshing into the terminal station except, of course, that it was the wrong set of tracks and instead he fell into Narnia.
The terminal was a buzz of sound. I didn’t even know where to go, it was so crowded. Then I saw where I needed to be, and if I didn’t hurry I would miss my flight!
at the bus terminal, a girl waited. she was going to see her grama at joburg. she would have tea and a sleepover at her grama’s house.
I looked down the hallway and all I could see were the vibrant colors and details all over the walls. They looked a bit disturbing, I was a bit freaked out by it all. To airport terminals always look this wild?
to be honest im not to sure i know what terminal means. i think it has something to do with air planes. ive only ever been on a plane once that was fun, i was up for about 24 hours. it wasnt a very long flight but i didnt sleep. not because i was scared but because i was exited. hights dont scare me, i find them exhilarating. teminal
I couldn’t tell where I was at. I went though the door and noticed all these wild crazy looking paintings. These paintings were almost occult like in nature. I would of never expected to see this at a terminal. I was spooked!
when someone has an incurable disease that can not be cured.
A part of a bus station or airport where people gather to get on the veichal
We’re still together in the crowd, breathing grease and coffee. Concentrate on the moment. We’ve got another half hour, twenty minutes, ten. Time to go. Don’t think past this moment. I only start crying after we hug.
It was on its last legs: outdated operating system, a flickering monitor, and inexplicably sticky keys. Not the sort of thing one could really come back from. There was no cure for old. Oh, it had a good run; lots of important data had been displayed, and plenty of valuable information had been gathered from its once-vibrant screen, but no more. Soon, they’d pull the plug and probably move on to something newer. Something slimmer. Something that didn’t run DOS.
It wasn’t the kind of place that she’d expected to find herself in. Not this early anyway. It was a cold, dark place. She was lonely, and even tho people passed by her, they only proffered tight fake smiles, the kind you give when you have nothing else better to offer. She hated LAX.
i don’t know how this could have happened. i dedicated every second of my life, every waking hour, to taking care of myself. i never wanted to end up frail and weak and breaking like he was, but now here i am. i’m at the beginning of the same path he just finished.
Tremor in the hand when the realization sinks in that you’re terminal, good gravy, wet navy, you’re going to the bottom of the hurt locker someday. A crater on the dark side of the moon, or maybe it’s not as black as that. Maybe it’s a pearl on a near empty canvas. A shell of an idea lost on a sea that never was, or is no longer.
Undine is the name of a suit that was worn. She got up and went to bed, went to work, clip-clopped up and down stairs, very routine. But when the suit came off, that’s where I stepped in, and with my eyes I deduced how the scene changed in topography. The lay of the land as it were.
“It’s terminal.”
“Oh no!” Everyone cried.
“I know,” said the doctor. “I’ll tell you the diagnosis after my trip on the train this week. I’ll see you later!”
The Skeleton King came into the room with their paperwork to show them to the checkout desk. They had already hit the deductible so they wouldn’t have to worry about getting their heads cut off.
i just told my brother today that he needs to finesse the “i’m dying” conversation should it come to that. hopefully he’s not, because that would be really bad timing on my part for a joke of that kind. hm…. i should probably text him and make sure he’s not dying. yikes
It’s 7:30pm at the bus terminal. Here we meet again. This time, your unruly hair are tucked into a burgundy beanie. You are wearing a navy coat with a white button down and black ripped jeans. Your sling bag is pinned with the same DC Comics’ characters’ buttons. Your head is slightly swaying with the music that is played through your headphones. I always wonder what you’re listening to.
Hi, I have been noticing you for weeks. I just wanted to let you know that you seem like a cool guy.
Will that sound too creepy? Oh well, until we meet again. See you tomorrow.
This means the end. It is terminal. It reminds me of a term paper. I don’t know what else to say about it. Formal rhymes with Terminal. It probably also means final. I guess this is my last sentence haha.
She paced the long row of windows, staring alternately at the planes (nosing up to the terminal and then wheeling away, one by one, in a slow parade) and her reflection on the glass. She pulled her phone out of her pocket (another hour had somehow passed), though she knew it was impossible for him to have messaged her. He didn’t have an American phone, and (maybe) he was still on the plane anyway.
It was terminal. The cancer was, I mean. He told me, of course, but he played it off as though it was okay. And sometimes I’m okay- I ignore it, forget that he’s terminal. But sometimes I don’t. It’s all I can think about. The fact that he won’t be there to meet my children, he can’t be there at me wedding, won’t get to do any of the things he wanted to, kills me. He especially wanted to see me become famous- and I would play his song as a tribute to him, my best friend. He will never see that.
Finally we reached the end of the line. I’d been in London 13 years, but never been to this end of the Northern Line. The problem with the end of the line is you have to decide where to go next. Luckily there are two ends to every track.
I looked around the crowed terminal that would be empty in a matter of minutes if it wasn’t for the excessive security checks and stamping of passports. Things would go a lot smoother if we just trusted one another. I scanned the large room again. All I could see were rows and rows of people, not one a familiar face. Maybe I had past some of these people on the street and I just didn’t recognize them or maybe I really didn’t know anyone. “Hey you ready to go?” I turned to my right. Ah! A familiar face. My wife and our two children were standing eagerly by myself. I picked up my daughter and swung her around so that she was hanging on my hip. “I got my luggage, I’m ready” her squeals of glee were muffled by the sounds of the other vacationers and businessmen.
They walked in the cold room, tears falling down soft cheeks, holding hands and not talking. They looked in each other’s eyes with only one thought in mind. That painful terminal thought driving them to jump.
Like at the airport. I enjoy terminals, l;ong walks lots of shopping. Very expennsive though. Last time I was in a terminal I was on my way home from North Carolina. I broke my han. Oh man how painful. Anyways the fact that I thought about airport terminal first shows im not very knowledgable. There a technical term for terminal as well, as in where you plug in a cable. A terminal, or something you
I think of long lines at an airport terminal. I think of masses of people who pour in and out and the ones that get stuck in the terminals due to cancellations. I think of how spoiled we are as Americans to have such things – so many countries aren’t so blessed.
Terminal was red and not really huge
She hold it in hand like it was the most precious thing ever. I’ve never really understood it but anyway – I still loved her. The terminal was like another big mistery that winds up our relationship, a sacred object – sacred and red and not so big.
Every illness is terminal here. Every breath you struggle to obtain curtails your life second by second, hour by hour, day by day. The Order of the Clocks keep each member’s pockets filled to the brim with broken minute hands. Their mustaches flick and swish as capably as a time bomb scraping away the last moments of the dying stars.
il ricordo degli aeroporti, che sono i miei (non) luoghi preferiti. Ecco, stare in un aeroporto, in attesa di una ereo, quelle ore/minuti sono tra i momenti più belli perché la mia mente trova pace, in quelli spazi e osservando tutto quel traffico di persone. Spero che avvenga presto!
The terminal was packed with people trying to get out of the country. The announcement of the possibility of imminent death was enough for most people to abandon life entirely. And just like all the others, I was no different. I sat solemnly, hoping for some type of good news.
Hopped aboard at the terminal, station to station, coast to coast, transatlantic, perhaps global. The gypsy itnerary recognized no boundaries.