The wall in my room is purple. It’s actually a specific type of purple and it is lavender. Just like the butterfly that is on the curtain of this room. Butterflies are fucking beautiful unlike walls that are inanimate and boring as fuck. I love walls sometimes because I like being alone from other people but at the same time I hate walls because I can’t see the beauty of outside.
claudia
She hit the wall. It happened every time she had a great run. Running was a high for her. It helped her to relax, to heal, and to leave behind the pain, if only for a few hours. Some people thought that hitting the wall was bad. For her, it was the best feeling in the world.
Audrey
I just ran into the wall… not a literal wall… the metaphorical one. Where it just kind of hits you at once. Everything catches up with you. Physically and emotionally too. Everything just falls apart on me all at once and when I’m all alone. I have people to call at 3 am when I could break down but I never do. Breaking down isn’t always an emotional outburst sometimes…sometimes its like being swallowed into a big black abyss and not wanting to get out.
This wall had always stood between himself and her. Every time he tried to utter a word, the wall dropped in front of him. He couldn’t get past its thick exterior. Maybe it wasn’t meant to be. Maybe he just wasn’t trying hard enough to climb the wall. Who knows?
When she came up again.
She saw the Wall. Of course, not a wall. Those were common, everyday. But she saw the Wall. Her breaths were labored as she tred the water, her lungs on fire from lack of breath. The sea had almost won. Almost. But there was the wall, rising up tall and proud from the stiff black sea. And it could only mean one thing: Brentennil was close
I hit a wall only to see
that i went all the way through
to the other side
where all was bright
and new
and waiting for me to come and explore
he was on the other side
smiling with one dimple gracing his left cheek
and i looked at him
only to find there was never a wall at all
that any wall that stood before
was nothing
in comparison to what was on the other side
the wall was an interesting thing. It had no canvas, no pictures, not a scrap of paint. And yet it was beautiful. It had faded over the time, making its features seem to burst forth . Giving it purpose. Giving it some sort of personality that I had never witnessed before in anything. And soon it
kayelee
It was made of brick. Unsurpassable, and completely unbreakable. Unless. Of course. You had a bucket of paint. Belief, and just the right amount of moxie. Greendaleen Marks had these all in spades.
A wall keeps emotions out. It protects whoever has built them up. Some walls are strong, and can last a lifetime, but other walls, can get constantly pushed down, even if they’re built over and over again.
Natasha
ah this again.
s
She ran through the mass of trees and dirt. She saw the horizon hidden behind a tall tree rising above it. The fiery red color burst into her eyesight. She ran into the horizon, eyes blazing. Her fingers clutched the sun, a smile spread across her face. “I’m almost there,” she gasped under her breath. Until she was suddenly stopped by a glass wall. She stopped in her tracks. Her eyes dulled, she looked down.
Annee
This wall is stopping me. Its keeping me from getting to where I need to be. I must find a way to get around it. To climb it, perhaps. I might need to tear it down, to destroy it. This wall wont keep me from getting to where I must go.
It stood tall, looking over the small men. It had been there for ages, either protecting them from the outside forces, or keeping them locked in. No one could remember when the wall was built, it was a enigma that no one could quite figure out. But today it was coming down, finally they would see the outside world for what it was. With their own eyes.
Atticus Snow
Surrounded. Trapped. I feel as if they’re closing in on me. Driving me insane.
James S.
The wall looked very tall and foreboding. He wasn’t sure that he was going to be able to climb it and drop into the enclosure on the other side. There had to be a way. Time was on his side at this point so he took another look at the wall to see if he could get any ideas on how to scale it.
Jacks Morrissey
A wall is what I am in front of. A wall. It does not budge, as it is not in the nature of walls to move. I must blow open a hole, destroy a part of it, jump over or dig under. But I must not turn back. For in turning back lies foregoing true realization of the true potential man carries within.
The wall was covered with confessions, secrets, unfulfilled wishes. Chicken-scratch, half-finished scribblings describing more about their writers than their most intimate friends knew. The girl trailed her fingers along the words, feeling the pulse of it all reverberating through her veins.
Meredith
she looked at the blank wall in sorrow and guilt. She saw only the worst of herself through this wall, filled with graffiti and light. Through this wall of bricks she wrote her life down but yet destroyed it. Not only could she never forget this special wall but she will never be able to even see it again.
Lily
a wall is the cosmological event horizon of my life. it traps me into one solid place. it keeps me from advancing. a wall is both my safe keeper and what holds me back.
audrey
staring at the wall is something I do often…there are pictures there, hidden dimensions you’ve never seen. Stories of people you’ve never met. Ideas you’ve never dreamed. Sometimes, it’s alright to stare.
It’s in the recesses of your thoughts, where you put up a wall. A wall between him and you, between the happy and the sad. You have to separate, you have to decide. What’s more important, the crown or the man?
There are many ways that we can run into a wall in our day-to-day lives. Sometimes you may be drunk and not paying attention, and you may just not be paying full attention to your surroundings. Other times, we may be pushed into a wall by the evil of society.
John
four surround us typically. except for in those spaces where the free live. i remember funen. a wall of windows open to the sky, the square, the rows and rows of buildings, and the docks, and then the water. The Atlantic. I embrace you.
s
The fortress is now crumbling, tumbling
So hard I’ve tried to dam this damnable welling
A curve bending between two rocky braces
Missives I should have seen
This writing on the wall
I think about cracks as it begins to seep past the weakening barrier
Am I blind to not have seen this coming…
My word —- now hushed at the precipice of lips parting
Walls are like mirrors that dont share a reflection. They see us in our past and our current. They hold memories and emotions, from screams to punches. Walls are our home, where we live, where we are comfortable.
The wall was white, and nothing was on it. No one could make the wall change. Whenever someone would write upon that white wall their inscriptions would disappear as if it were never there. No one knew why this happened; people came to see the wall whenever they could. They would put whatever they wanted to write but the next day it would disappear.
G
One of the hardest things at first was turning on my side and reaching out, and instead of finding him, it was just a hard, blank, lifeless wall.
Or fear of the oncoming uncertainty that is the future
Something has awoken me to my mortality
And it’s frightening me
T.
there is a wall in my apartment that reminds me of my old bedroom. i can’t explain what exactly it is about it, but something about this just seems familiar. it’s the same wal that when i was a child I coverd with drawings and ideas — yes, i wrote on my walls, i have one of those moms– maybe the reason i think of myself so much when i see it is because I want to fill this space up. i want to cover this wall with all of my deepest desires and just sink into it. more than anything i want to feel the satisfaction of seeimg my desires come true, one by one, like a great checklist for my life. i don’t keep lists, i’ve always seen them as a way to set yourself up to fail. it’s putting things out into the world, some place where you can’t check them off like you’re buying groceries, maybe no one else knows what these things mean: a collection of images that are a message only to you, that remind you of all the good things in your life, and all the things you want to happen. i didn’t realize that was what i had done until i was much older. i was moving away, and everything was packed except the things i’d written on that corner that not everyone noticed: it was angsty poetry and glow in the dark stars, but looking at it, i suddenly saw that i’d been marking my life in that space, i hadn’t known how to say what it was i wanted, but i’d known that i’d wanted it somehow, and so i’d stuck it in a place where i could see it everyday. then i’d know this is what i should do. i know it doesn’t make very much sense, it doesn’t really make a lot of sense to me either, but i swear, that’s exactly what happened. i wrote a love song on that wall, and drew out all the constellations that I’d always liked, and talked about my favorite places that i’d visited, listed favorite books, stuck up some postcards, everything on that was me, and so when I saw it, it was like i was looking at myself and saying hello every morning. now, I have in many ways started all over again, and so this empty wall is my new start, my clean slate. I want to etch my life story into it, the way ancient egyptians did in a language not everyone can understand. I have a feeling that once we really and truly know what all those hieroglyphics say, it won’t be what we thought: it will be personal ads and lists of places they want to see, boys they like but can never be with, and all the tiny details that make up a life. i want to take this blank overly painted big space, and tell my story. it’s a good story in my opinion, but not everyone should be able to understand it. the best things are those that are a bit mysterious, maybe the secret is in that I want to know what that wall will say more than anyone, I want to peek at the end and see everything that is carved up there: every triumph and broken heart and snub and film. i see that space and I want it to be full.
Emily
GO, go on!
Get away. I’d like to see you permeate through this shit.
Because nothing you could do, nothing at all
could wreck it or melt it or crumble it down
just because
all because
You’d be breaking yourself…
I was stuck. There was nowhere else I could go. I was cornered. They would soon be upon me. All I could do was say my final prayers, and hope they would make my end swift. And just as soon as I began to realize my impending death, it came.
James S.
There is another day hidden between the one you live and the one that will follow. We take these cracks, between the fading of the flame and the waking grasp at sentience, and tear them open, fill them with schizophrenic peregrinations, loops of hypnogogic somnambulance. The wall is two walls and between them a no mans land of nomadic distance
I stare at my reflection in the mirror on the wall. It’s disgusting, horrifying. My terrible scars, cuts. My hair. My teeth. It’s all to much to bear.
Isabel
The wall was large enough to cover most of the horizon but not tall enough to hide the stars at night. When the guards had gone to bed and the rest of the world was silent behind their own walls, Ellie would go out and sit on the roof to see what constellations she could find. She would always first search for Polaris and move on from there. the stars were the only way out of this prison.
Sometimes you just plough right into it,
can’t move an inch farther,
cannot stand one more insult or demand
You hit that wall and dig in.
There’s nothing left to do.
You build the walls so high that I can’t climb over and save you. I can’t salvage the rest of my broken heart when there is so much space between me and the one I love. It seems impossible to reach now but my god, I will try. Until the end my god, I will try.
kiley Chapman
the concrete armor that floats around me every time I speak. but. I get too attached to all these people, and it still stands. how do you explain that, dearest wall that so typically prevents the heart from getting close?
I hit a wall with St Paul Sinners, writing wise. And yet, I still think of it. A lot. I see an exit sign for Hastings and think how I can work it into the story. I see Landmark Center and think what a great setting it is.
The wall in my room is purple. It’s actually a specific type of purple and it is lavender. Just like the butterfly that is on the curtain of this room. Butterflies are fucking beautiful unlike walls that are inanimate and boring as fuck. I love walls sometimes because I like being alone from other people but at the same time I hate walls because I can’t see the beauty of outside.
She hit the wall. It happened every time she had a great run. Running was a high for her. It helped her to relax, to heal, and to leave behind the pain, if only for a few hours. Some people thought that hitting the wall was bad. For her, it was the best feeling in the world.
I just ran into the wall… not a literal wall… the metaphorical one. Where it just kind of hits you at once. Everything catches up with you. Physically and emotionally too. Everything just falls apart on me all at once and when I’m all alone. I have people to call at 3 am when I could break down but I never do. Breaking down isn’t always an emotional outburst sometimes…sometimes its like being swallowed into a big black abyss and not wanting to get out.
This wall had always stood between himself and her. Every time he tried to utter a word, the wall dropped in front of him. He couldn’t get past its thick exterior. Maybe it wasn’t meant to be. Maybe he just wasn’t trying hard enough to climb the wall. Who knows?
When she came up again.
She saw the Wall. Of course, not a wall. Those were common, everyday. But she saw the Wall. Her breaths were labored as she tred the water, her lungs on fire from lack of breath. The sea had almost won. Almost. But there was the wall, rising up tall and proud from the stiff black sea. And it could only mean one thing: Brentennil was close
Last night i watched the movie The Wall….
I hit a wall only to see
that i went all the way through
to the other side
where all was bright
and new
and waiting for me to come and explore
he was on the other side
smiling with one dimple gracing his left cheek
and i looked at him
only to find there was never a wall at all
that any wall that stood before
was nothing
in comparison to what was on the other side
the wall was an interesting thing. It had no canvas, no pictures, not a scrap of paint. And yet it was beautiful. It had faded over the time, making its features seem to burst forth . Giving it purpose. Giving it some sort of personality that I had never witnessed before in anything. And soon it
It was made of brick. Unsurpassable, and completely unbreakable. Unless. Of course. You had a bucket of paint. Belief, and just the right amount of moxie. Greendaleen Marks had these all in spades.
A wall keeps emotions out. It protects whoever has built them up. Some walls are strong, and can last a lifetime, but other walls, can get constantly pushed down, even if they’re built over and over again.
ah this again.
She ran through the mass of trees and dirt. She saw the horizon hidden behind a tall tree rising above it. The fiery red color burst into her eyesight. She ran into the horizon, eyes blazing. Her fingers clutched the sun, a smile spread across her face. “I’m almost there,” she gasped under her breath. Until she was suddenly stopped by a glass wall. She stopped in her tracks. Her eyes dulled, she looked down.
This wall is stopping me. Its keeping me from getting to where I need to be. I must find a way to get around it. To climb it, perhaps. I might need to tear it down, to destroy it. This wall wont keep me from getting to where I must go.
It stood tall, looking over the small men. It had been there for ages, either protecting them from the outside forces, or keeping them locked in. No one could remember when the wall was built, it was a enigma that no one could quite figure out. But today it was coming down, finally they would see the outside world for what it was. With their own eyes.
Surrounded. Trapped. I feel as if they’re closing in on me. Driving me insane.
The wall looked very tall and foreboding. He wasn’t sure that he was going to be able to climb it and drop into the enclosure on the other side. There had to be a way. Time was on his side at this point so he took another look at the wall to see if he could get any ideas on how to scale it.
A wall is what I am in front of. A wall. It does not budge, as it is not in the nature of walls to move. I must blow open a hole, destroy a part of it, jump over or dig under. But I must not turn back. For in turning back lies foregoing true realization of the true potential man carries within.
The wall was covered with confessions, secrets, unfulfilled wishes. Chicken-scratch, half-finished scribblings describing more about their writers than their most intimate friends knew. The girl trailed her fingers along the words, feeling the pulse of it all reverberating through her veins.
she looked at the blank wall in sorrow and guilt. She saw only the worst of herself through this wall, filled with graffiti and light. Through this wall of bricks she wrote her life down but yet destroyed it. Not only could she never forget this special wall but she will never be able to even see it again.
a wall is the cosmological event horizon of my life. it traps me into one solid place. it keeps me from advancing. a wall is both my safe keeper and what holds me back.
staring at the wall is something I do often…there are pictures there, hidden dimensions you’ve never seen. Stories of people you’ve never met. Ideas you’ve never dreamed. Sometimes, it’s alright to stare.
It’s in the recesses of your thoughts, where you put up a wall. A wall between him and you, between the happy and the sad. You have to separate, you have to decide. What’s more important, the crown or the man?
What’s better for you, what’s better for them?
Vincenzo doesn’t give you an answer.
It’s up to you.
Berlin had one. China had one too. Keeps people in. Keeps friends out.
There are many ways that we can run into a wall in our day-to-day lives. Sometimes you may be drunk and not paying attention, and you may just not be paying full attention to your surroundings. Other times, we may be pushed into a wall by the evil of society.
four surround us typically. except for in those spaces where the free live. i remember funen. a wall of windows open to the sky, the square, the rows and rows of buildings, and the docks, and then the water. The Atlantic. I embrace you.
The fortress is now crumbling, tumbling
So hard I’ve tried to dam this damnable welling
A curve bending between two rocky braces
Missives I should have seen
This writing on the wall
I think about cracks as it begins to seep past the weakening barrier
Am I blind to not have seen this coming…
My word —- now hushed at the precipice of lips parting
Walls are like mirrors that dont share a reflection. They see us in our past and our current. They hold memories and emotions, from screams to punches. Walls are our home, where we live, where we are comfortable.
The wall was white, and nothing was on it. No one could make the wall change. Whenever someone would write upon that white wall their inscriptions would disappear as if it were never there. No one knew why this happened; people came to see the wall whenever they could. They would put whatever they wanted to write but the next day it would disappear.
One of the hardest things at first was turning on my side and reaching out, and instead of finding him, it was just a hard, blank, lifeless wall.
no wall can hide me from this feeling.
I feel the inexplicable need to write
To push forward
Something in my chest
Either pangs of embarrassment of the past
Or fear of the oncoming uncertainty that is the future
Something has awoken me to my mortality
And it’s frightening me
there is a wall in my apartment that reminds me of my old bedroom. i can’t explain what exactly it is about it, but something about this just seems familiar. it’s the same wal that when i was a child I coverd with drawings and ideas — yes, i wrote on my walls, i have one of those moms– maybe the reason i think of myself so much when i see it is because I want to fill this space up. i want to cover this wall with all of my deepest desires and just sink into it. more than anything i want to feel the satisfaction of seeimg my desires come true, one by one, like a great checklist for my life. i don’t keep lists, i’ve always seen them as a way to set yourself up to fail. it’s putting things out into the world, some place where you can’t check them off like you’re buying groceries, maybe no one else knows what these things mean: a collection of images that are a message only to you, that remind you of all the good things in your life, and all the things you want to happen. i didn’t realize that was what i had done until i was much older. i was moving away, and everything was packed except the things i’d written on that corner that not everyone noticed: it was angsty poetry and glow in the dark stars, but looking at it, i suddenly saw that i’d been marking my life in that space, i hadn’t known how to say what it was i wanted, but i’d known that i’d wanted it somehow, and so i’d stuck it in a place where i could see it everyday. then i’d know this is what i should do. i know it doesn’t make very much sense, it doesn’t really make a lot of sense to me either, but i swear, that’s exactly what happened. i wrote a love song on that wall, and drew out all the constellations that I’d always liked, and talked about my favorite places that i’d visited, listed favorite books, stuck up some postcards, everything on that was me, and so when I saw it, it was like i was looking at myself and saying hello every morning. now, I have in many ways started all over again, and so this empty wall is my new start, my clean slate. I want to etch my life story into it, the way ancient egyptians did in a language not everyone can understand. I have a feeling that once we really and truly know what all those hieroglyphics say, it won’t be what we thought: it will be personal ads and lists of places they want to see, boys they like but can never be with, and all the tiny details that make up a life. i want to take this blank overly painted big space, and tell my story. it’s a good story in my opinion, but not everyone should be able to understand it. the best things are those that are a bit mysterious, maybe the secret is in that I want to know what that wall will say more than anyone, I want to peek at the end and see everything that is carved up there: every triumph and broken heart and snub and film. i see that space and I want it to be full.
GO, go on!
Get away. I’d like to see you permeate through this shit.
Because nothing you could do, nothing at all
could wreck it or melt it or crumble it down
just because
all because
You’d be breaking yourself…
I was stuck. There was nowhere else I could go. I was cornered. They would soon be upon me. All I could do was say my final prayers, and hope they would make my end swift. And just as soon as I began to realize my impending death, it came.
There is another day hidden between the one you live and the one that will follow. We take these cracks, between the fading of the flame and the waking grasp at sentience, and tear them open, fill them with schizophrenic peregrinations, loops of hypnogogic somnambulance. The wall is two walls and between them a no mans land of nomadic distance
I stare at my reflection in the mirror on the wall. It’s disgusting, horrifying. My terrible scars, cuts. My hair. My teeth. It’s all to much to bear.
The wall was large enough to cover most of the horizon but not tall enough to hide the stars at night. When the guards had gone to bed and the rest of the world was silent behind their own walls, Ellie would go out and sit on the roof to see what constellations she could find. She would always first search for Polaris and move on from there. the stars were the only way out of this prison.
Sometimes you just plough right into it,
can’t move an inch farther,
cannot stand one more insult or demand
You hit that wall and dig in.
There’s nothing left to do.
You build the walls so high that I can’t climb over and save you. I can’t salvage the rest of my broken heart when there is so much space between me and the one I love. It seems impossible to reach now but my god, I will try. Until the end my god, I will try.
the concrete armor that floats around me every time I speak. but. I get too attached to all these people, and it still stands. how do you explain that, dearest wall that so typically prevents the heart from getting close?
I hit a wall with St Paul Sinners, writing wise. And yet, I still think of it. A lot. I see an exit sign for Hastings and think how I can work it into the story. I see Landmark Center and think what a great setting it is.
Maybe if this keeps up, I’ll go back to it.