his eyes are red and his dominant hand is his left; corsica had plenty of reasons to be self-conscious of every inch of himself aside from his inability to cast any magic whatsoever. even as a child, a frail and pale and pretty thing, he felt awkward and out of place and unapproachable. everyone else in his class wrote with their right hands, but apparently it was traditional that people like him write with their left, and so his mother had him practice every day, her own left hand guiding him, her red eyes twinkling with pride.
It wasn’t being caged that left me rotting with fear. It was this small freedom that I would have to live with, this hungry, desperate child I’m no longer mother to.
It has to come to this, where I stopped lingering on what we were. Photos of us come in passing as I scroll through my old files — and I could have sworn I forgot the feeling of you beside me, of your hand on my arm, and the kind words you gave my way. Yes, I still get up in the morning with a weight on my chest, but who said old habits die down quickly? But I sleep better now.
I guess I never understood that with a struggle to accept that you weren’t going to be around the whole time, it was your way of telling me that this was the best for the both of us. Asking for a reason would be a deed gone moot probably, or you’d come around and finally tell me the truth (or no truth). In me there was still a yearning to know what kept you around for so long, and a little bit of “I-wish-we-worked-out,” but maybe we weren’t good in the long run.
So we leave it like this, the remnants of what could have been. I know almost is never a good thing, but for once, I’ll settle. I have no choice but to.
Vague memories of cornstalks glinting in moonlight. Was this a dream? No, it’s reality. The sky is dark, the land unfamiliar and, by God, the damned woman left us out here!
I left the walkway to come into the room. I left the conversation to enter something new. I left the distance and clinging sensation of two people attached on a need basis to enter the frustrated loneliness for having not talked for so long and spent so long together. I left the comforting nothingness to find numbness in not having an identity. I left the outside to come inside and why? What is there inside that is not outside? I left something I had and something I wanted to find something lonely and dark and I am all the happier and all the angrier. I left what I needed to become happier with the anger I found inside. I left the constant silence and empty whistle of the trees for a filled ampitheatre of “Einstein on the Beach,” track one. I left to leave. And I’ll leave to go back to what I left.1. 2. 3. 4. 5. 6 2. 3. 4. 5. 6. 7. 8. It’s about remembering that what you left, you needed to leave, not because there wasn’t happiness allowed there, but because you weren’t creating it for yourself or for anyone else and you weren’t letting anyone create it for you. I left to control. We live for finding control and we live to leave.
Claustrophobia. Arachnophobia. Hydrophobia. Fears borrowed but never felt. But the only true phobia I have, the feeling of absolute dread, the hollow chest cavity after having the bloody wind knocked from you, and that’s the fear having been left behind.
To the left to the left, everything you owe me the box to the left. In my closet, that’s my stuff. Yes if I bought it, please don’t touch! Don’t touch.
In all his days as King, listening to the seers, they had never mentioned names. It wasn’t the way prophecy worked; it wasn’t supposed to give everything away, only to give warning. So the one time they did, everyone took notice. Voullurn couldn’t help but wonder what would be left of his kingdom after their “hero” was done with a name like Om’ryn, Fire Rain.
It always hurts my heart to see her cry, but I now it was worse since I was the reason for those tears. She looked betrayed. Angry. Devastated by my words. God, I’m so stupid.
I should’ve just left when she told me to…then none of this would’ve happened.
Sweat pooled from his brow and dripped on the floor below. Slowly, painstakingly he inches across the room. His strength had been husbanded, but now all that was left was his willpower. His fate was all taht wa
A step to the left, twenty steps to the right, five steps to the center, three more straight, left three hundred sighs and I finally reaches to your heart. To the left of you soul….
Then you walk 300 steps to me and we are in the same soul, the same world.
“Get on my left!” roared Sandler as she leapt across the fallen brick, her boots kicking up loose rust and dirt as I heard the rolling tumble of gunfire. As I followed her, I thought I felt shrapnel embed itself into my side, like violent glass burying itself into my skin in deep, dark shards.
“Are you hurt?” my superior demanded. I checked my aching flank. No damage. Just emotional injury.
“I have a friend who sleeps with strangers. I had a friend who could make anything she drew come to life. I had friends who could do so much more than anyone else alive would ever imagine, only they all seem to have died away when I left. When I went off to find my new home in a new place, looking for new scenes to replace these sour ones and to inspire me in ways so much more beautiful than the pain that ate me when i was part of them. Only I never had the power they did.” Sara explained to the police in the tiny conference room as they interrogated her about a murder she knew nothing about.
She sat waiting at the bus stop. There wind pierced through her. She gasped. No one was there. Nothing beside her. The cars had gone, their doors flung wide open never to be closed again. Was she the only one who hadn’t left?
wise wishes and worst case scenarios
laughter liked lingered
throughout lost loves
left behind and ahead of time
the future’s good as sold
a cash crop commodity
to pray upon the poor
push press past
as we are
gone goodbye to us all.
What was left on the table? What more could have been done? What was left behind, what position for the far right to exploit, leaving nothing left for the 99%.
As soon as I had left I felt better. I felt in charge of my own life. He was no longer occupying my every thought and I started to think about what my writing was becoming.
“All things he never did were left behind…” he sang, his voice as crisp and sweet as a fresh apple. He couldn’t help how good he was – usually it ended up with him apologizing for being talented. But Sierra always came to him after his performances to say that he didn’t need to apologize for being good at something. Peter realized just how good of a piece of advice this was.
‘it was left up to me to get right on down.’ that’s a phrase i hold onto to help me remember the proper way to hold hands in a circle: everyone’s left hands are palm UP, everyone’s right hands are palm DOWN.
Desolate. The landscape was desolate. Acres of barren, empty land stretched out before her; generations of cultivation and hard work and love put into the earth beneath her feet wiped away within an hour. All that was left was rock and rubble.
oh my oh my, i left that open heart at the end of the road. i looked at the right side, but all i was used to seeing was my left. it broke my expectations that i could no longer feel my left. bye left. you left me a memory. a memory i’ll never forget.
My mom left my dad when I was three years old. She was very brave as she took my brothers and me back to New Jersey where she was born. It was not easy for her but she managed to raise us all on her own. She taught me how to be brave and independent.
The first thing I think about is left being used as a direction. It is the opposite or possible acronym of right. I also think about left being used as an adjective for myself. For example, my left hand, left foot or left side of my body. Left, an adjective.
his eyes are red and his dominant hand is his left; corsica had plenty of reasons to be self-conscious of every inch of himself aside from his inability to cast any magic whatsoever. even as a child, a frail and pale and pretty thing, he felt awkward and out of place and unapproachable. everyone else in his class wrote with their right hands, but apparently it was traditional that people like him write with their left, and so his mother had him practice every day, her own left hand guiding him, her red eyes twinkling with pride.
It wasn’t being caged that left me rotting with fear. It was this small freedom that I would have to live with, this hungry, desperate child I’m no longer mother to.
It has to come to this, where I stopped lingering on what we were. Photos of us come in passing as I scroll through my old files — and I could have sworn I forgot the feeling of you beside me, of your hand on my arm, and the kind words you gave my way. Yes, I still get up in the morning with a weight on my chest, but who said old habits die down quickly? But I sleep better now.
I guess I never understood that with a struggle to accept that you weren’t going to be around the whole time, it was your way of telling me that this was the best for the both of us. Asking for a reason would be a deed gone moot probably, or you’d come around and finally tell me the truth (or no truth). In me there was still a yearning to know what kept you around for so long, and a little bit of “I-wish-we-worked-out,” but maybe we weren’t good in the long run.
So we leave it like this, the remnants of what could have been. I know almost is never a good thing, but for once, I’ll settle. I have no choice but to.
leg
bottom
dead
prosthetic
direction
oblivion
Hazel
Isaac
Augustus
lost
gone
passed
behind
Vague memories of cornstalks glinting in moonlight. Was this a dream? No, it’s reality. The sky is dark, the land unfamiliar and, by God, the damned woman left us out here!
I left the walkway to come into the room. I left the conversation to enter something new. I left the distance and clinging sensation of two people attached on a need basis to enter the frustrated loneliness for having not talked for so long and spent so long together. I left the comforting nothingness to find numbness in not having an identity. I left the outside to come inside and why? What is there inside that is not outside? I left something I had and something I wanted to find something lonely and dark and I am all the happier and all the angrier. I left what I needed to become happier with the anger I found inside. I left the constant silence and empty whistle of the trees for a filled ampitheatre of “Einstein on the Beach,” track one. I left to leave. And I’ll leave to go back to what I left.1. 2. 3. 4. 5. 6 2. 3. 4. 5. 6. 7. 8. It’s about remembering that what you left, you needed to leave, not because there wasn’t happiness allowed there, but because you weren’t creating it for yourself or for anyone else and you weren’t letting anyone create it for you. I left to control. We live for finding control and we live to leave.
Claustrophobia. Arachnophobia. Hydrophobia. Fears borrowed but never felt. But the only true phobia I have, the feeling of absolute dread, the hollow chest cavity after having the bloody wind knocked from you, and that’s the fear having been left behind.
To the left to the left, everything you owe me the box to the left. In my closet, that’s my stuff. Yes if I bought it, please don’t touch! Don’t touch.
In all his days as King, listening to the seers, they had never mentioned names. It wasn’t the way prophecy worked; it wasn’t supposed to give everything away, only to give warning. So the one time they did, everyone took notice. Voullurn couldn’t help but wonder what would be left of his kingdom after their “hero” was done with a name like Om’ryn, Fire Rain.
Fast minute
When she left, stepping off the porch, her flat heeled cloth shoues barely broke the snow crust. It was as if hwe departue was tentative but
It always hurts my heart to see her cry, but I now it was worse since I was the reason for those tears. She looked betrayed. Angry. Devastated by my words. God, I’m so stupid.
I should’ve just left when she told me to…then none of this would’ve happened.
I left behind a world of my own today
and entered the new one
full of people outside my head
and god, it’s wonderful.
Sweat pooled from his brow and dripped on the floor below. Slowly, painstakingly he inches across the room. His strength had been husbanded, but now all that was left was his willpower. His fate was all taht wa
A step to the left, twenty steps to the right, five steps to the center, three more straight, left three hundred sighs and I finally reaches to your heart. To the left of you soul….
Then you walk 300 steps to me and we are in the same soul, the same world.
“Get on my left!” roared Sandler as she leapt across the fallen brick, her boots kicking up loose rust and dirt as I heard the rolling tumble of gunfire. As I followed her, I thought I felt shrapnel embed itself into my side, like violent glass burying itself into my skin in deep, dark shards.
“Are you hurt?” my superior demanded. I checked my aching flank. No damage. Just emotional injury.
“I have a friend who sleeps with strangers. I had a friend who could make anything she drew come to life. I had friends who could do so much more than anyone else alive would ever imagine, only they all seem to have died away when I left. When I went off to find my new home in a new place, looking for new scenes to replace these sour ones and to inspire me in ways so much more beautiful than the pain that ate me when i was part of them. Only I never had the power they did.” Sara explained to the police in the tiny conference room as they interrogated her about a murder she knew nothing about.
She sat waiting at the bus stop. There wind pierced through her. She gasped. No one was there. Nothing beside her. The cars had gone, their doors flung wide open never to be closed again. Was she the only one who hadn’t left?
I won’t relieve you–not if you’re leaving us. Not if you’re leaving me here. A bitter pit of what you chewed away.
wise wishes and worst case scenarios
laughter liked lingered
throughout lost loves
left behind and ahead of time
the future’s good as sold
a cash crop commodity
to pray upon the poor
push press past
as we are
gone goodbye to us all.
“Oh, you’re left handed.”
He raised an eyebrow. The corner of his mouth pulled flatter, and Janie wasn’t sure if that was his version of a smile or just displeasure.
“I mean, I guess you knew that. I just noticed is all.”
He nodded his head once and then returned to writing.
She said, “You know, they used to say it was unlucky–“
He couldn’t stop his right foot from colliding with the left. Knew what it meant to ‘dance with two left feet’.
What was left on the table? What more could have been done? What was left behind, what position for the far right to exploit, leaving nothing left for the 99%.
As soon as I had left I felt better. I felt in charge of my own life. He was no longer occupying my every thought and I started to think about what my writing was becoming.
To the left, to the left. Everything you own in a box to the left. Seriously.
“All things he never did were left behind…” he sang, his voice as crisp and sweet as a fresh apple. He couldn’t help how good he was – usually it ended up with him apologizing for being talented. But Sierra always came to him after his performances to say that he didn’t need to apologize for being good at something. Peter realized just how good of a piece of advice this was.
how many are er
She as all that I had left.
After everyone in my life had disappeared, she was the only one remained; the only one who remembered me for who I was.
That’s what made it so hard to kill her.
Left behind by the race, the short, wheezing boys pulled to a halt looking around themselves, red-faced.
“Quick,” one panted. “There’s no teachers looking. Let’s duck into the bushes and have a quick cigarette. We can catch them on the way back.”
Left, I left. I left. I can’t believe it. I left. My stomach turns. Oh god, why did I leave? What was I thinking?
My vision blurs. I want to go back. I can’t. I have to keep going now, keep walking, don’t look back. Tears run down my face. I’m free.
Someday I’ll look back and I’ll be glad I left. I promise.
‘it was left up to me to get right on down.’ that’s a phrase i hold onto to help me remember the proper way to hold hands in a circle: everyone’s left hands are palm UP, everyone’s right hands are palm DOWN.
Desolate. The landscape was desolate. Acres of barren, empty land stretched out before her; generations of cultivation and hard work and love put into the earth beneath her feet wiped away within an hour. All that was left was rock and rubble.
oh my oh my, i left that open heart at the end of the road. i looked at the right side, but all i was used to seeing was my left. it broke my expectations that i could no longer feel my left. bye left. you left me a memory. a memory i’ll never forget.
“You’re supposed to go left! Left!” I hissed.
But it was too late, she’d seen us.
I’m not left-handed. In England they drive on the left. Some politicians are said to lean to the left. I was once left at a gas station on a vacation.
Hiya I obviously am a deep thinker.
My mom left my dad when I was three years old. She was very brave as she took my brothers and me back to New Jersey where she was born. It was not easy for her but she managed to raise us all on her own. She taught me how to be brave and independent.
We drive in the left side of the car. Left is opposite of right. I do not write with my left hand. Most objects do not favor left handed people.
dsinsdhfiosdhf;oisdhfsdiohfasdiofhasdiofhasdiofhasdoihsdoi
The first thing I think about is left being used as a direction. It is the opposite or possible acronym of right. I also think about left being used as an adjective for myself. For example, my left hand, left foot or left side of my body. Left, an adjective.