control. it was a big thing for me.
bigger than for most people, although i dont think anybody had ever realised.
i wanted control, not the way hitler wanted control, but the way that a river wants control. not to shout orders and to have them obeyed, but rather to rush through life without pomp or grandeur and still have the river banks step smartly back from my outstretched hands.
A smirk laced its way across her lips, tugging on the corners of her mouth like an excited child. Her eyes lit up with ecstasy and in that moment she became the madwoman he remembered. In that moment, she was completely in control yet so close to spiraling off into the abyss. With blood streaking its way through her hair, dripping into her eyes– she was soaked in the life of her victim and for an instant he saw the doorways to her past life. He saw the gory trail of mangled bodies she’d left for him. He smiled fondly at the warmth her gifts had always brought him. She was his muse, and Death would follow her anywhere. In this life, the next and whatever else followed after that.
Control. All he wanted was control. It was why he was always going on about ruling the world and being a dictator. It was all Farkle Minkus ever wanted. And why? Because he could never have it. He knew this.
Farkle glanced over at the man he knew he could never have. The man who would never return his feelings. He watched as Lucas was busy reading the next chapter in the textbook. He watched as he turned to the next page and continued reading, never once glancing up and noticing the way he was staring.
She breathed in and then out through her teeth with a hiss. Okay. Composure. He was looking at her with a mixture of total surprise and disgust. “Characters are defined by how they react under pressure.” She heard the phrase in her head from her sophomore English class as she sorted out what to do next.
I hate control. I love it when I am allowed to just loose control. I mean, who actually likes control? Anyone? I really don’t believe that anyone likes control. I think that when you loose control, the possibilities are endless. If we had no control, we would have creative masterpieces helter-skelter. We could speak to the birds and fly, up in the sky. It would be beautiful, just to fly, fly, fly…
Do you think you have control over your won life? You do have control over your own life. It is a conscious decision what happens to you and for you so get up off your ass and stop feeling sorry for yourself and make life happen for you not let life happen to you.
He always liked being in control.
He never had it as a child- never had it as a lieutenant- but as captain, well, he could do what he pleased.
Being captain meant he was alone. But after everything, wasn’t loneliness just a side effect of safety for your heart?
Control used to mean me… being under it for the advantage of someone else. I never felt it, held it, understood that it could be mine. Now, I have it. And I realized I can exercise it in a million places in my life…and it gave me a more beautiful life. I’m happier, I’m me at last. I can also give up my control at times… because it’s good to do that. But now… I choose when and to whom. Win Win.
My entire life was built around control, of which I had none. But I began to perceive things. I swept and mopped, I took out the catbox, I polished the living room table on the floor where I did my homework…the couch, my bed, my cosmos sleeping bag behind me. That was my cocoon, I could think then… About why I did not have to clean the house or feed my brother. Of course, I did all of that, what I had to do for myself to score a college. Muy jodito, how fucking selfish. One day my sixth grade teacher called my mother in for a conference. She told her, your daughter is brilliant in lit, in mythology, and poetry! Did you know she won a distinct prize for description? My poor white clad mom said, “oh no I did, well, she insists upon reading the dictionary and encycloèdias my father bought us… I…I just did not think she would know, Dr.
Well Mrs. Wiggin, it seems there not much you know about this one. Keep our appointments.
She sucked in her breath and then forced it slowly out, through her nose. In. Out. In. She could get through this. She WOULD get through this, the bastard wasn’t going to control her anymore. Not if she had anything to say about it, anyway.
I can’t control my anger anymore. Everything felt so bad to me, and something was burning inside me. It wanted to get out of my chest and kick everything in sight, and I can’t control it. I was scared, but I couldn’t control everything that was happening.
control is scary but cool. when i’m in control i feel powerful. when i’m out of control even though it’s scary sometimes it feels nice, and i feel free and unburdened. whatever it is, i like it. i dunno. whatever man. what it is. this is a wild website. hmmm. i wonder who made it.
Little bird warbles, is it purposeful or is it loss of control…if only the cat didn’t chase it so, it might hang out and sing a little longer. Overlay the expenses if only a moment. No more dice. The cards are laid flat, and there’s nothing inside. There had been “going to the gallows” and there had been “going to the gallows”. The phrasing of which was the least bit confusing, because usually there is light on the other side. Sharp side of a tunnel, a hypodermic needle. They’re anesthetized. Maybe this is the dream of the pre-programmed mind. Just what does the hive mind think when thinking in fractals, in deep sleep, in tangents unnerving.
Black starts to stream out of my first, black like ink, running down the crinkles in my hand and staining the carpet– it puddles around my feet and it makes me sick, but the only thing that would’ve made me sicker would have been NOT crushing her black, black, inky heart in my hand until it ceased to beat.
Some people think I’m a control freak. They’re wrong. I just like to feel like I know what’s going on, you know? I like to be on top of things. But I can be flexible! Just because I’m not that into change doesn’t mean I can’t.
I am in control of my life. Well, I hope I am. It’s scary to think that we don’t know the future. Where on earth are we going to be in 5 years time? 10 years time? Perhaps we are not in as much control as we think we are. We don’t know if we are going to be killed tomorrow. Or in 80 years time. We could be anywhere. We are not in control.
The weight was heavy in my hands, but not overly so; there was a nice balance, a solidity to the device in my hand. I waved it; the robot waved back. I spun in a circle; the creation mimicked me. Fantastic! I thought. This is the start of something strange. Something beautiful.
She was never one prone to completely lose her senses. She was known to be composed, calm, collected. Yet, when there was no way to see what was coming for her, it was hard not to expect that she would run the other way. There she stood, exposed to her deepest buried secrets, grasping to the defense mechanism that was always her trusted refugee. “Have some control, Lex”, she said to herself. Once, she had a plethora of those, in fact, at one point in her life it was all she really had. Yet, there she stood, exposed to her deepest buried secrets.
I’m losing control of my thoughts as they flow through my mind. It seems that they are going faster than I can process. My thoughts are becoming overbearing and I can’t seem to find a way to make it stop. These thoughts are tearing me apart and I’m struggling to find peace within it all.
He was driving too fast, his wife kept telling him, but he knew he had control of the car. A tree loomed ahead but he pressed the accelerator and drove towards it, knowing that he could swerve in time. It would have worked, but there was a tiny girl with a tricycle in the road. He couldn’t swerve and instead, the car flew up into the sky. When they entered a cloud, he knew that everything would be all right.
His fingers dug into my arms and I whimpered softly. “What is it, babygirl?” he murmured, mouth on my neck. I moaned and fell into love all over again.
Shelby thought she was in control of the situation. She thought wrong. Now she was kneeling in the corner of the ramshackle room, watching helplessly as her colleagues came literally to blows. She didn’t think she would ever have to hear the crunching of cartilage under fists, or smell the metallic tang of blood on the front of white and pink collared shirts.
After a moment, she stood up shakily, walking to the desk to retrieve something sharp. She found a fountain pen, right as Tim was about to slam Alan’s frail body into the center table.
i love giving others control i dont like control well it’s weird in social situations i like to be in control or in the workplace but I love giving up control i think I want it all the time but I can’t ebcause I”m not sure if I can but I wish i was just told what to do and i love it when i am
control. it was a big thing for me.
bigger than for most people, although i dont think anybody had ever realised.
i wanted control, not the way hitler wanted control, but the way that a river wants control. not to shout orders and to have them obeyed, but rather to rush through life without pomp or grandeur and still have the river banks step smartly back from my outstretched hands.
A smirk laced its way across her lips, tugging on the corners of her mouth like an excited child. Her eyes lit up with ecstasy and in that moment she became the madwoman he remembered. In that moment, she was completely in control yet so close to spiraling off into the abyss. With blood streaking its way through her hair, dripping into her eyes– she was soaked in the life of her victim and for an instant he saw the doorways to her past life. He saw the gory trail of mangled bodies she’d left for him. He smiled fondly at the warmth her gifts had always brought him. She was his muse, and Death would follow her anywhere. In this life, the next and whatever else followed after that.
I cant control my emotions, I’m crying without knowing why. I cant control my tears anymore. save me, I feel like drowning.
I need more control. self control. I need to make the most of my time and myself and be productive and inspired. I need to do things.
Control. All he wanted was control. It was why he was always going on about ruling the world and being a dictator. It was all Farkle Minkus ever wanted. And why? Because he could never have it. He knew this.
Farkle glanced over at the man he knew he could never have. The man who would never return his feelings. He watched as Lucas was busy reading the next chapter in the textbook. He watched as he turned to the next page and continued reading, never once glancing up and noticing the way he was staring.
arrogance trumped
assumption’s vague control
led down warehouse aisles
proclaiming your mystery
mocking my history
islands apart from pulses
parting
the last word
hanging
somewhere between
clouds
of hopeful anticipation
She breathed in and then out through her teeth with a hiss. Okay. Composure. He was looking at her with a mixture of total surprise and disgust. “Characters are defined by how they react under pressure.” She heard the phrase in her head from her sophomore English class as she sorted out what to do next.
I hate control. I love it when I am allowed to just loose control. I mean, who actually likes control? Anyone? I really don’t believe that anyone likes control. I think that when you loose control, the possibilities are endless. If we had no control, we would have creative masterpieces helter-skelter. We could speak to the birds and fly, up in the sky. It would be beautiful, just to fly, fly, fly…
Do you think you have control over your won life? You do have control over your own life. It is a conscious decision what happens to you and for you so get up off your ass and stop feeling sorry for yourself and make life happen for you not let life happen to you.
He always liked being in control.
He never had it as a child- never had it as a lieutenant- but as captain, well, he could do what he pleased.
Being captain meant he was alone. But after everything, wasn’t loneliness just a side effect of safety for your heart?
Control used to mean me… being under it for the advantage of someone else. I never felt it, held it, understood that it could be mine. Now, I have it. And I realized I can exercise it in a million places in my life…and it gave me a more beautiful life. I’m happier, I’m me at last. I can also give up my control at times… because it’s good to do that. But now… I choose when and to whom. Win Win.
Chaos… CONTROL!
My entire life was built around control, of which I had none. But I began to perceive things. I swept and mopped, I took out the catbox, I polished the living room table on the floor where I did my homework…the couch, my bed, my cosmos sleeping bag behind me. That was my cocoon, I could think then… About why I did not have to clean the house or feed my brother. Of course, I did all of that, what I had to do for myself to score a college. Muy jodito, how fucking selfish. One day my sixth grade teacher called my mother in for a conference. She told her, your daughter is brilliant in lit, in mythology, and poetry! Did you know she won a distinct prize for description? My poor white clad mom said, “oh no I did, well, she insists upon reading the dictionary and encycloèdias my father bought us… I…I just did not think she would know, Dr.
Well Mrs. Wiggin, it seems there not much you know about this one. Keep our appointments.
War child
a lotus
inside the husk of me
overthrew my heart
staking out the territory
of all the things I am not
beneath feathered words
lost breath
I made myself small
in memorized actions
in the cold night
I ran my hands
across the flanks
of a bolting darkness
father left for the front
mother got by
strange names
on the list of
surrendered
of lost
I have poured you over myself
now let me unfold
She sucked in her breath and then forced it slowly out, through her nose. In. Out. In. She could get through this. She WOULD get through this, the bastard wasn’t going to control her anymore. Not if she had anything to say about it, anyway.
I can’t control my anger anymore. Everything felt so bad to me, and something was burning inside me. It wanted to get out of my chest and kick everything in sight, and I can’t control it. I was scared, but I couldn’t control everything that was happening.
control is scary but cool. when i’m in control i feel powerful. when i’m out of control even though it’s scary sometimes it feels nice, and i feel free and unburdened. whatever it is, i like it. i dunno. whatever man. what it is. this is a wild website. hmmm. i wonder who made it.
Little bird warbles, is it purposeful or is it loss of control…if only the cat didn’t chase it so, it might hang out and sing a little longer. Overlay the expenses if only a moment. No more dice. The cards are laid flat, and there’s nothing inside. There had been “going to the gallows” and there had been “going to the gallows”. The phrasing of which was the least bit confusing, because usually there is light on the other side. Sharp side of a tunnel, a hypodermic needle. They’re anesthetized. Maybe this is the dream of the pre-programmed mind. Just what does the hive mind think when thinking in fractals, in deep sleep, in tangents unnerving.
Black starts to stream out of my first, black like ink, running down the crinkles in my hand and staining the carpet– it puddles around my feet and it makes me sick, but the only thing that would’ve made me sicker would have been NOT crushing her black, black, inky heart in my hand until it ceased to beat.
Some people think I’m a control freak. They’re wrong. I just like to feel like I know what’s going on, you know? I like to be on top of things. But I can be flexible! Just because I’m not that into change doesn’t mean I can’t.
I am in control of my life. Well, I hope I am. It’s scary to think that we don’t know the future. Where on earth are we going to be in 5 years time? 10 years time? Perhaps we are not in as much control as we think we are. We don’t know if we are going to be killed tomorrow. Or in 80 years time. We could be anywhere. We are not in control.
The weight was heavy in my hands, but not overly so; there was a nice balance, a solidity to the device in my hand. I waved it; the robot waved back. I spun in a circle; the creation mimicked me. Fantastic! I thought. This is the start of something strange. Something beautiful.
She was never one prone to completely lose her senses. She was known to be composed, calm, collected. Yet, when there was no way to see what was coming for her, it was hard not to expect that she would run the other way. There she stood, exposed to her deepest buried secrets, grasping to the defense mechanism that was always her trusted refugee. “Have some control, Lex”, she said to herself. Once, she had a plethora of those, in fact, at one point in her life it was all she really had. Yet, there she stood, exposed to her deepest buried secrets.
I’m losing control of my thoughts as they flow through my mind. It seems that they are going faster than I can process. My thoughts are becoming overbearing and I can’t seem to find a way to make it stop. These thoughts are tearing me apart and I’m struggling to find peace within it all.
He was driving too fast, his wife kept telling him, but he knew he had control of the car. A tree loomed ahead but he pressed the accelerator and drove towards it, knowing that he could swerve in time. It would have worked, but there was a tiny girl with a tricycle in the road. He couldn’t swerve and instead, the car flew up into the sky. When they entered a cloud, he knew that everything would be all right.
my air must remain crisp. my bed fresh. my nails short. my brows kempt. my feet warm. my mood happy.
His fingers dug into my arms and I whimpered softly. “What is it, babygirl?” he murmured, mouth on my neck. I moaned and fell into love all over again.
“I’m yours, Daddy.”
I am in control. No God is in control. You are not in control of me and you never will be. I promise you that.
Shelby thought she was in control of the situation. She thought wrong. Now she was kneeling in the corner of the ramshackle room, watching helplessly as her colleagues came literally to blows. She didn’t think she would ever have to hear the crunching of cartilage under fists, or smell the metallic tang of blood on the front of white and pink collared shirts.
After a moment, she stood up shakily, walking to the desk to retrieve something sharp. She found a fountain pen, right as Tim was about to slam Alan’s frail body into the center table.
i love giving others control i dont like control well it’s weird in social situations i like to be in control or in the workplace but I love giving up control i think I want it all the time but I can’t ebcause I”m not sure if I can but I wish i was just told what to do and i love it when i am