I have a single card, a single set of keys, and a single woman. I have a single goal and a single method. As one it is nothing but when paired with another is becomes an incredible creation.
While a single being is destructive to ones self, it takes two people to share the weight so only then it becomes bearable.
Single. That word is just a blow to the heart. It reminds me me of just how a pathetic person I am. Single forever and always, that was my motto. And I was still waiting for my knight in shining armor when
Not a single one of them looked up at me. They hung their heads avoiding my pleading gaze. None of them spoke out on my behalf. None moved to stop what was happening. They stared at the liquor slick floor and let me take the blame.
I’ve always been single. Like even when I’m with others I’ve always been single, a singular being. Some days I wonder if I ever did learn how to blend myself in with others. Sometimes I wonder what I’ll do the day I meet the person I want to spend the rest of my life with. Will I know how to put myself inside of that person and become two when I’m so used to being one?
When I was a little girl, I always wore my wedding gown to the grocery store. Like a little Mrs. Havisham, I was afraid of being alone. Then one day, near the produce, I said to my mother, “Mama, it’s a shame there aren’t more princes in the world.”
She smiled at me and said, “Maybe, but he’s worth waiting for.”
It was a silly little exchange, but since then I’ve realized something: being single is a lot more fun than being with the wrong man.
So I wait for my prince and enjoy my life, whether or not he decides to show up.
A single girl is an oddity our culture hasn’t quite gotten its head around.
When I was young, I would not go to the grocery store without my wedding gown and high heels. One day while near the produce I looked dramatically toward my mother and said, “It’s a shame there aren’t more princes in the world.” Although I’m sure she enjoyed my melodrama she gave me advice I’ve held on to ever since: he’s worth waiting for – until then, being single is more fun than being with the wrong man.
A single rose lay across the vanity. Somehow the sight of that rose–the the act of picking the lock, not the delicate lacy clothing draped here and there like ghosts, not the squeak of the drawers he slid open–made him feel guilty. What kind of singer only receives one rose? And it still lay across the table, all by itself, as if atop a shrine.
I feel single, even though I AM in a relationship right now. Depressing, right? Well, not really…because he fell for me so fast, and I am still figuring out what I want to do with my life. I am genuinely drawn to him, because he inspires me constantly to become a better version of myself….and if I’m going to be spending my time with anyone I want it to be that kind of person, (even if I have a bit more soul-searching to do).
Yusei, clean and clothed, was waiting patiently when Ushio returned. The officer didn’t have a single excuse to utter for his inconsiderate behavior, no matter how excited he had been.
Yusei just shrugged when the man tried to speak. “It’s not a problem. Was I able to help?”
“Yeah, a lot. The precinct apologizes for inconveniencing you.”
I never liked being single. I always wanted to be with someone. I like the cuddling, the going out together, the kissing, every aspect of being with someone. But here I am. Single again. How am I supposed to go on? Especially since I don’t know how to forget him.
It was the single most incredible of my whole life up until that point. I couldn’t believe it. The sights before my eyes. The beauty surrounding me. Nature, filled with the leaves and the stones etched from the constant flow of the river, the sun sinking its way to the other side of the planet.
Valentine’s Day is considered the worst day to be single. But I always wonder on Mother’s Day how many people try not to think about it, but find their mind constantly winding back to it, to her, and they can’t shake the sorrow lying across their shoulders. Their sorrow goes much deeper than being alone, to loving and losing. On Father’s Day how many men sit huddled on their bed, weeping, because there is nothing left to do? Don’t cry to me about being single on Valentine’s Day. Be glad you don’t have anything to lose yet.
Alone, free, no obligation, no commitment, no responsibility only to self. Foot loose and fancy free. Going and coming as you please, with no concern with what anyone else thinks, of it.
a single tear.
yes.
just one.
it leaks very realistically out of her eye.
her eye.
yes, it’s always her eye.
whichever one.
it depends on whichever side is her good side.
women always have good sides.
it’s always good vs. bad.
Falling from the tree we used to climb.
We’d sit there for hours.
Staring at the stars.
I’m underneath it now.
In the shade.
The sun beside me.
I can breathe.
I can see.
I can heal.
moving target down the way
who knew that there would be only one of them.
not two.
just one.
sluicing down the dogrun, snow stinging my eyes.
saw it all.
didn’t see any of it.
leaving out the crowd, there was only me.
and them.
i didn’t know it would be like this.
but here it was.
never before, never since.
As a single drop of rain there’s a lot I could tell you. Like how it is so very uncomfortable to fall as snow and land directly on the point of the Effile Tower. Or that I have been all around the world doing nothing but seeing everything and how bugs tried to drink me and things crushed me, they broke me, they made me splatter other things. And there’s nothing more painful than that. I could tell you that each fall is an attempt at suicide and that only 0.0001% of us will ever actually succeed. And even after telling you all of this you hate your life right now so much that you would rather have my job and have me go to school for you, right? Well I’m sorry, this isn’t very pretty either.
Someday it’ll get better thought. That’s the promise Life makes each of us for living.
Every single time I have to tell you. Don’t put trash or food in the sink! But every single time you put that stuff in the sink. I don’t put my muddy boots in the laundry hamper because they don’t belong there. Same applies here.
All he had to do was take a single step: not even a long step that might need a bit of a run up or a jump, but a small step either left or right. Casey hesitated at the painted line on the ground between his two friends.
“This is silly. I don’t want to choose,” he cried, shifting abjectedly from foot to foot. “I want us all to stay friends, can’t we?”
She was sitting there staring placidly through the window that wasn’t quite clear, but faded with age and impressions of passers-by. Her mind singled in on a seething though, “Is it this I am looking for?”
maybe alone isn’t the right word to associate this with. single is about the self, but it’s not a bad thing. maybe more people should spend time being single and appreciating themselves and their own company. it’s not easy in this society, but it’s necessary.
“Of course I am.” The Baron raised an eyebrow in smug amusement. “You are the governess to a young witch. It is a part of the job — risks must be taken.”
Aggie sighed and turned to face him. “You do understand that I am not a cat, I presume?”
“Naturally,” came the reply. The Baron sniffed delicately and gave her a pointed look. “Though I shall never understand how you humans have ever managed to survive this long with only a single life at your disposal; hardly sensible, in my opinion.”
By midnight the southerly gale bought sweet relief. I lay underneath the window where the curtains billowed in the wind and the cool breeze came to meet me. I listened to the chorus of cicadas outside and to the sounds of the house creaking and moaning with the change in the weather. A single dog barked in the distance.
Broken promises are what she admonishes
And I guess I haven’t really learned what to be honest is
But this cold river flow is what allows my soul to grow
And I am on my way to becoming quite the experienced scuba diver
I’ll be back one day to pull that pearl from the depths
And present it to her, shining with the strength of a thousand suns
He should have had a double, in fact he really had needed it. He swilled the remains of the straw coloured spirit around in his tumbler. The ice cubes still clinked.
Single. We are born as single individuals and we die as single individuals. Maybe this is why we spend our living existence trying to find love and companionship. We are born and die alone. Maybe this is the reason why we search throughout our lives to find that other single individual whole will fill the empty place in our hearts. Maybe this explains why we are the social beings that we are. We are born single indiciduals and we die that way. This must invoke in us a fear of being single. Of being alone. See we do all we can to keep this from being who we are during our living days.
Single-minded. Driven. Determined. Not a spaz. Sometimes a spaz. But not detracted from the end game. The goal. For the intrepid, detours and deviations are not the same mires that bog down the uncommitted.
“I just don’t understand why I’m still single!” griped the overly enthusiastic Anaheim Angels fan, as he guzzled a full pitcher of beer and made a lewd gesture at the closest girl sitting in the bleachers with her arms folded and her lips drawn in a very thin line.
His friend rolled his eyes as she turned back to the game. Somehow, she was seriously considering converting to Dodgers loyalty.
“A dollar?” His daughter Keri whined, looking up at him with a pouty frown once he handed her a single bill. “Daddy, I can’t buy candy with just a dollar…”
“Yeah Dad, this isn’t the stone age, like when you and Mom were kids. Candy costs money!” His ten year old son chimed in, agreeing with his sister for probably the first and last time.
Mark grumbled under his breath, pulling a $10 out of his pocket and handing…what was his name again? Jeremy? Or was it Joe? God, how he wished he could just scream and tell these impossible pests that he wasn’t their father, and how if he could he’d kill them in two seconds.
“Go knock yourselves out, kids. Mommy and I are going to sit over there.”
The kids screamed in delight and ran off, leaving Mark to stare after them and wonder why in God’s name he let himself get roped into this in the first place.
we love the hardest after loss, only see what’s left behind
a work of art has much more value when its artist is resigned.
my words have no worth now; maybe they will once I’m dead
maybe if you carve them on my tombstone, they will finally be read.
a pill to fall asleep, morning coffee to wake up
a drink to numb the heart inside a bright red solo cup
when I get tired of indifference, a smoke to make me feel
when I fade into existence, a shot of you to make me real.
single… status, the amount of scoops on your ice cream cone … it ,might even be the single scoop of ice ream you get when your’e tired of being single.
I have a group of friends, its not very big but I have company. I have a family, I have company at home. I am almost always accompanied by a creature of flesh and bone with a mouth they can talk with but still – still – I am a single entity, a pair of eyes, a camera viewing the world and observing the interactions, only observing.
There was only one time that sitting at this couch didn’t feel like a single wicked act. That was the time I fell out of love. It was okay to soil whatever I felt like parking my ass on for once. For once, I didn’t mind showing the colour of my skin. I didn’t mind showing the lack of smile on my face. That was the one single time I didn’t feel so alone, because I was able to be with my self entirely. And what a wonderful feeling it was.
concentrate
listen to my voice
listen to the one
tiny fragment
that you
clung to days ago
concentrate
grab onto my words
grab the one
unimportant detail i
spewed at
you months ago
concentrate
listen to the wind
listen to its soft
crying and tell me
you don’t
remember a single
word i
told you
concentrate
remember how you said
you are worthless
and alone
remember to look
in the water
and try to
tell yourself you
were lying
I have a single card, a single set of keys, and a single woman. I have a single goal and a single method. As one it is nothing but when paired with another is becomes an incredible creation.
While a single being is destructive to ones self, it takes two people to share the weight so only then it becomes bearable.
Single. That word is just a blow to the heart. It reminds me me of just how a pathetic person I am. Single forever and always, that was my motto. And I was still waiting for my knight in shining armor when
Not a single one of them looked up at me. They hung their heads avoiding my pleading gaze. None of them spoke out on my behalf. None moved to stop what was happening. They stared at the liquor slick floor and let me take the blame.
What I am. Alone. No one else. By yourself. Freedom. sadness, heart break, pain, happiness
I’ve always been single. Like even when I’m with others I’ve always been single, a singular being. Some days I wonder if I ever did learn how to blend myself in with others. Sometimes I wonder what I’ll do the day I meet the person I want to spend the rest of my life with. Will I know how to put myself inside of that person and become two when I’m so used to being one?
When I was a little girl, I always wore my wedding gown to the grocery store. Like a little Mrs. Havisham, I was afraid of being alone. Then one day, near the produce, I said to my mother, “Mama, it’s a shame there aren’t more princes in the world.”
She smiled at me and said, “Maybe, but he’s worth waiting for.”
It was a silly little exchange, but since then I’ve realized something: being single is a lot more fun than being with the wrong man.
So I wait for my prince and enjoy my life, whether or not he decides to show up.
A single girl is an oddity our culture hasn’t quite gotten its head around.
When I was young, I would not go to the grocery store without my wedding gown and high heels. One day while near the produce I looked dramatically toward my mother and said, “It’s a shame there aren’t more princes in the world.” Although I’m sure she enjoyed my melodrama she gave me advice I’ve held on to ever since: he’s worth waiting for – until then, being single is more fun than being with the wrong man.
Awww. OneWord, stop it.
A single rose lay across the vanity. Somehow the sight of that rose–the the act of picking the lock, not the delicate lacy clothing draped here and there like ghosts, not the squeak of the drawers he slid open–made him feel guilty. What kind of singer only receives one rose? And it still lay across the table, all by itself, as if atop a shrine.
I feel single, even though I AM in a relationship right now. Depressing, right? Well, not really…because he fell for me so fast, and I am still figuring out what I want to do with my life. I am genuinely drawn to him, because he inspires me constantly to become a better version of myself….and if I’m going to be spending my time with anyone I want it to be that kind of person, (even if I have a bit more soul-searching to do).
Yusei, clean and clothed, was waiting patiently when Ushio returned. The officer didn’t have a single excuse to utter for his inconsiderate behavior, no matter how excited he had been.
Yusei just shrugged when the man tried to speak. “It’s not a problem. Was I able to help?”
“Yeah, a lot. The precinct apologizes for inconveniencing you.”
There was a single red rose left on the newly disturbed soil. Though she had died alone, there was, it seemed, someone who cared about her.
“Yes.” The word was long, drawn-out. Careful. “I am single. Why is it that you ask?”
I never liked being single. I always wanted to be with someone. I like the cuddling, the going out together, the kissing, every aspect of being with someone. But here I am. Single again. How am I supposed to go on? Especially since I don’t know how to forget him.
It was the single most incredible of my whole life up until that point. I couldn’t believe it. The sights before my eyes. The beauty surrounding me. Nature, filled with the leaves and the stones etched from the constant flow of the river, the sun sinking its way to the other side of the planet.
Valentine’s Day is considered the worst day to be single. But I always wonder on Mother’s Day how many people try not to think about it, but find their mind constantly winding back to it, to her, and they can’t shake the sorrow lying across their shoulders. Their sorrow goes much deeper than being alone, to loving and losing. On Father’s Day how many men sit huddled on their bed, weeping, because there is nothing left to do? Don’t cry to me about being single on Valentine’s Day. Be glad you don’t have anything to lose yet.
Alone, free, no obligation, no commitment, no responsibility only to self. Foot loose and fancy free. Going and coming as you please, with no concern with what anyone else thinks, of it.
a single tear.
yes.
just one.
it leaks very realistically out of her eye.
her eye.
yes, it’s always her eye.
whichever one.
it depends on whichever side is her good side.
women always have good sides.
it’s always good vs. bad.
Falling from the tree we used to climb.
We’d sit there for hours.
Staring at the stars.
I’m underneath it now.
In the shade.
The sun beside me.
I can breathe.
I can see.
I can heal.
moving target down the way
who knew that there would be only one of them.
not two.
just one.
sluicing down the dogrun, snow stinging my eyes.
saw it all.
didn’t see any of it.
leaving out the crowd, there was only me.
and them.
i didn’t know it would be like this.
but here it was.
never before, never since.
.
As a single drop of rain there’s a lot I could tell you. Like how it is so very uncomfortable to fall as snow and land directly on the point of the Effile Tower. Or that I have been all around the world doing nothing but seeing everything and how bugs tried to drink me and things crushed me, they broke me, they made me splatter other things. And there’s nothing more painful than that. I could tell you that each fall is an attempt at suicide and that only 0.0001% of us will ever actually succeed. And even after telling you all of this you hate your life right now so much that you would rather have my job and have me go to school for you, right? Well I’m sorry, this isn’t very pretty either.
Someday it’ll get better thought. That’s the promise Life makes each of us for living.
Every single time I have to tell you. Don’t put trash or food in the sink! But every single time you put that stuff in the sink. I don’t put my muddy boots in the laundry hamper because they don’t belong there. Same applies here.
All he had to do was take a single step: not even a long step that might need a bit of a run up or a jump, but a small step either left or right. Casey hesitated at the painted line on the ground between his two friends.
“This is silly. I don’t want to choose,” he cried, shifting abjectedly from foot to foot. “I want us all to stay friends, can’t we?”
She was sitting there staring placidly through the window that wasn’t quite clear, but faded with age and impressions of passers-by. Her mind singled in on a seething though, “Is it this I am looking for?”
maybe alone isn’t the right word to associate this with. single is about the self, but it’s not a bad thing. maybe more people should spend time being single and appreciating themselves and their own company. it’s not easy in this society, but it’s necessary.
“You can’t be serious.”
“Of course I am.” The Baron raised an eyebrow in smug amusement. “You are the governess to a young witch. It is a part of the job — risks must be taken.”
Aggie sighed and turned to face him. “You do understand that I am not a cat, I presume?”
“Naturally,” came the reply. The Baron sniffed delicately and gave her a pointed look. “Though I shall never understand how you humans have ever managed to survive this long with only a single life at your disposal; hardly sensible, in my opinion.”
By midnight the southerly gale bought sweet relief. I lay underneath the window where the curtains billowed in the wind and the cool breeze came to meet me. I listened to the chorus of cicadas outside and to the sounds of the house creaking and moaning with the change in the weather. A single dog barked in the distance.
I wondered whether he’d come.
Broken promises are what she admonishes
And I guess I haven’t really learned what to be honest is
But this cold river flow is what allows my soul to grow
And I am on my way to becoming quite the experienced scuba diver
I’ll be back one day to pull that pearl from the depths
And present it to her, shining with the strength of a thousand suns
He should have had a double, in fact he really had needed it. He swilled the remains of the straw coloured spirit around in his tumbler. The ice cubes still clinked.
Single. We are born as single individuals and we die as single individuals. Maybe this is why we spend our living existence trying to find love and companionship. We are born and die alone. Maybe this is the reason why we search throughout our lives to find that other single individual whole will fill the empty place in our hearts. Maybe this explains why we are the social beings that we are. We are born single indiciduals and we die that way. This must invoke in us a fear of being single. Of being alone. See we do all we can to keep this from being who we are during our living days.
Single-minded. Driven. Determined. Not a spaz. Sometimes a spaz. But not detracted from the end game. The goal. For the intrepid, detours and deviations are not the same mires that bog down the uncommitted.
“I just don’t understand why I’m still single!” griped the overly enthusiastic Anaheim Angels fan, as he guzzled a full pitcher of beer and made a lewd gesture at the closest girl sitting in the bleachers with her arms folded and her lips drawn in a very thin line.
His friend rolled his eyes as she turned back to the game. Somehow, she was seriously considering converting to Dodgers loyalty.
“A dollar?” His daughter Keri whined, looking up at him with a pouty frown once he handed her a single bill. “Daddy, I can’t buy candy with just a dollar…”
“Yeah Dad, this isn’t the stone age, like when you and Mom were kids. Candy costs money!” His ten year old son chimed in, agreeing with his sister for probably the first and last time.
Mark grumbled under his breath, pulling a $10 out of his pocket and handing…what was his name again? Jeremy? Or was it Joe? God, how he wished he could just scream and tell these impossible pests that he wasn’t their father, and how if he could he’d kill them in two seconds.
“Go knock yourselves out, kids. Mommy and I are going to sit over there.”
The kids screamed in delight and ran off, leaving Mark to stare after them and wonder why in God’s name he let himself get roped into this in the first place.
we love the hardest after loss, only see what’s left behind
a work of art has much more value when its artist is resigned.
my words have no worth now; maybe they will once I’m dead
maybe if you carve them on my tombstone, they will finally be read.
a pill to fall asleep, morning coffee to wake up
a drink to numb the heart inside a bright red solo cup
when I get tired of indifference, a smoke to make me feel
when I fade into existence, a shot of you to make me real.
this is awesome
single… status, the amount of scoops on your ice cream cone … it ,might even be the single scoop of ice ream you get when your’e tired of being single.
I have a group of friends, its not very big but I have company. I have a family, I have company at home. I am almost always accompanied by a creature of flesh and bone with a mouth they can talk with but still – still – I am a single entity, a pair of eyes, a camera viewing the world and observing the interactions, only observing.
There was only one time that sitting at this couch didn’t feel like a single wicked act. That was the time I fell out of love. It was okay to soil whatever I felt like parking my ass on for once. For once, I didn’t mind showing the colour of my skin. I didn’t mind showing the lack of smile on my face. That was the one single time I didn’t feel so alone, because I was able to be with my self entirely. And what a wonderful feeling it was.