It’s automatic that as soon as I get here I start singing, “One World Is Enough For All of Us.” It’s true. It’s totally automatic. I prefer a car with automatic transmission instead of standard!
The car was automatic. The train automatically flew across the tracks as the engineer rode it harder and harder. But alas, there was a cow in the middle of the tracks. Meat went flying everywhere and rained down upon poor bystander cars waiting at the stop for the train to pass. It was quite a spectacle for the kids.
last night i drank two bottles of wine
my body feels like one of those flattened pennies you get at the beach
flabby, flustered and forgotten
each night is the same
i punching punish myself
it’s automatic idiotic incendiary
i wish i treated myself better
it was amazing how i did everything straight away, almost automatically, like i was a machine and not a human being with thoughts and feelings and opinions and impulses of my own. instead, i saw the word and i just started typing. words spilling out of my head into my hands and onto the keyboard, aut
They dont want us to think, just write. it automatically makes you wonder if there is a more sinister plot behind it… :P but, since we cant think, WHO KNOWS?????
Peep peep the automatic blender peep. mom call out and said can some one get that. I was going to go get but my sister was as swift as a deer .she beat me to.l told her “one day I will beat you to the blender “. She laughed. I told her “I will and victory will be mine”.
I dont know of what i do is auto matic and what i do is decidd by myself. my therapist has told me that the main way to curem y self of my anxiety and depression is to recognize automatic thoughts and work against them. but at what point
When I started this I automatically assumed it was meant to be written on paper, with a pen. Automatic is much like assumption. It makes an ass of you and I. I think it is a thoughtless word. There isn’t any intention to it. But it can also save lives, like when a mother automatically saves her child from falling off a counter. It’s instinctual.
Automatic. We go through our day automatically. We don’t think about what we are doing most of the time we just go through the motions. Almost as if were just robots programmed to do a task automatically.
It moved without being told to and that was what scared people. Robots were meant to follow commands like computers. They could do nothing that they weren’t told to do, but that wasn’t the truth anymore.
it echoes around in my head all day. I put on my lipstick with shaky hands and look in the mirror. I don’t look any different. I washed all the blood off hours ago. But something has changed, something essential inside of me.
He was on autopilot, everything he did was automatic, he no longer had to think about anything, it just happened. He had become lazy and slow in his life and at work, he achieved nothing.
Automatic is something that many objects are considered to be. They do things for you instead of you doing them yourself. Sometimes this is a good thing and sometimes not, because you should be doing some things on your own instead of having a machine do it for you.
It was an automatic response. She swung at me and I swung back. I didn’t think when I did it but, boy, do I have a lot of time to think now. Like 90 days in county. Damn.
The future is full of automatics. Automatic cars, doors are here. What’s next? Automatic refrigerators, where you only have to order? This all must stop before it’s to late.
there is so much tension in the air that i feel like i could faint. there’s words traveling through the room, but all of them pointless, and meaningless in a ridiculous way. she perches as a lady should on the edge of her chair, all grace and poise, and he stands there by the clock, eyes grappling to find somewhere to focus on without embarrassment. “five years next september,” he says automatically when she touches on how long they haven’t met. i almost lunge across the room to strangle hiim, because what happened to the self conscious man that would so easily call me “old sport”? when she talked, all five years of being jay gatsby unraveled until only the young boy remained.
This love was in the making for two years and finally, we’ve made it.
We made it this far and now I can’t shake the feeling that I will never love the way like I used to, the first time around. It’s by far over, thank god, but while it lasted it was… quite different.
I had the breath-taking, knees-shaking kind of experience. The one where your face flushes when you think about him almost every hour or when you wake up from that dream where you almost kissed and are too giddy to go back to sleep again. Our first and only kiss had been short-lived, but dear god it had almost killed me, because my organs had jumped around inside me.
The second time is very different. We do much more together. We’ve known each other for two years after we finally hit it off because we were both too shy for our own good.
And now when we kiss, there are no butterflies or dancing organs. There is your smell, your protective arm around me and your breath against my neck. It seems we move automatic, no matter what we do. In a way, I quite enjoy it. Our relationship seems effortless.
But this dull and distant voice keeps calling out to me.
Was that really it?
She, by route, turned left before she remembered she didn’t have to go left anymore. She tried to sureptitiously turn around, but Sarah caught her eye and waved her down. “Shoot.”
“What are you doing in this neck of the woods?”
“Oh, you know, I was just going for a walk.”
My automatic reaction was to freak out. I started shouting and roaring but nobody was listening. My voice was drowned out by laughter. “Fire!” I screamed. Nobody moved.
i automatially assumed that I woldn”t find her attractive because she was butch. And i wwas into feminine women. but later on at that dinner i found myself looking at her furtively now and then between bites. her face and her over-all look was making me feel that desire that i had previously felt towards pretty, feminine women.
everytime i heard that word i cant help but hear missy starting that 1,2 song with ciara. never fail…automatic, supersonic. Beside the song being 10+ years old, i dont even particularly like missy elliot either. That song must have been created in a lab using math equations and sonar technology to perfectly master the catchy factor.
automatic door is stuck.
phone is running out of battery.
get help.
only banana in my bag.
i am starving.
the glass is mocking me
i can see outside but noway out.
Once Roger started screaming at me, my response was practically automatic. I didn’t run; I didn’t flinch or pull away as if burned by an invisible flame. I didn’t freeze and let my body stiffen as if I had been dipped into amber and fossilized for future alien archaeologists. No, I was the person who reacted with…well, action. I chose “fight.”
So I hit him. And hard, too. He toppled over, the blood gushing from his nose as if it were a broken faucet, his words torn from his throat as he was too stunned to respond verbally.
I started to look for something small and insignificant, and accidentally came across your baby photos. The tears that fell onto the paper were an automatic response; I didn’t expect to see your smile and small hands, and when my memories came flooding back, there the sadness and joy returned.
The urge to run automatically kicked her heart into racing gear. Bailey shifted her sights to the skyline. Looking above the building and into the orange of the rising sun. It had been so long since she had felt warmth. Down the hatch she went. Hair whipping around in the harsh winds. Sand stinging her skin as it raced through the city streets, jumping into the tunnel below her. She wasn’t sure when she would get the chance to see the sun again. It had been 246 days until today that the opportunity arose. She ducked her head as the latch above her locked into place.
“That’s what I get for choosing to live through this bullshit apocalypse” she mumbled, “should’ve ran when I felt the urge.” The urge to run was always automatic, but she knew better. They always promised that she wouldn’t survive an hour.
His finger slipped into the trigger guard, and his heart went still. His blood stopped pumping. His lungs stopped moving, and every part of his body was suspended in steel and wires and conductivity.
The car stuttered and screamed before the gearbox clattered onto the highway. Skmeone had crashed earlier during peak hour, or sl he guessed because the cars weren’t moving and didnt look like they were going to move. On the map all the roads in the country had been painted red, blocked, unmoving, jambed. But like all things there was movement as some people in fourwheel drives and off road cars decided to make a run for the forrest or into the grass. He eased his foot off of the break and let the csr fall into gear.
It’s automatic that as soon as I get here I start singing, “One World Is Enough For All of Us.” It’s true. It’s totally automatic. I prefer a car with automatic transmission instead of standard!
Instinctively, I grab my brush. I know those eyes so well. I dip into each color, and fill the canvas with your light. You are alive here.
The car was automatic. The train automatically flew across the tracks as the engineer rode it harder and harder. But alas, there was a cow in the middle of the tracks. Meat went flying everywhere and rained down upon poor bystander cars waiting at the stop for the train to pass. It was quite a spectacle for the kids.
last night i drank two bottles of wine
my body feels like one of those flattened pennies you get at the beach
flabby, flustered and forgotten
each night is the same
i punching punish myself
it’s automatic idiotic incendiary
i wish i treated myself better
it was amazing how i did everything straight away, almost automatically, like i was a machine and not a human being with thoughts and feelings and opinions and impulses of my own. instead, i saw the word and i just started typing. words spilling out of my head into my hands and onto the keyboard, aut
They dont want us to think, just write. it automatically makes you wonder if there is a more sinister plot behind it… :P but, since we cant think, WHO KNOWS?????
I would use my automatic reflexes to the fullest if cruel
winter didn’t freeze me limb by limb.
Peep peep the automatic blender peep. mom call out and said can some one get that. I was going to go get but my sister was as swift as a deer .she beat me to.l told her “one day I will beat you to the blender “. She laughed. I told her “I will and victory will be mine”.
I dont know of what i do is auto matic and what i do is decidd by myself. my therapist has told me that the main way to curem y self of my anxiety and depression is to recognize automatic thoughts and work against them. but at what point
When I started this I automatically assumed it was meant to be written on paper, with a pen. Automatic is much like assumption. It makes an ass of you and I. I think it is a thoughtless word. There isn’t any intention to it. But it can also save lives, like when a mother automatically saves her child from falling off a counter. It’s instinctual.
Just like that, so automatic
with a heartbreak graphic,
and a lame emphatic.
You gave up, so fickle
a tiny machine, you trickle.
Stuck, again, in the pickle
with you.
Automatic. We go through our day automatically. We don’t think about what we are doing most of the time we just go through the motions. Almost as if were just robots programmed to do a task automatically.
When someone goes to hit you its an automatic response to deflect them.
now we have automatic machines for help people almost every where
It moved without being told to and that was what scared people. Robots were meant to follow commands like computers. They could do nothing that they weren’t told to do, but that wasn’t the truth anymore.
it echoes around in my head all day. I put on my lipstick with shaky hands and look in the mirror. I don’t look any different. I washed all the blood off hours ago. But something has changed, something essential inside of me.
He was on autopilot, everything he did was automatic, he no longer had to think about anything, it just happened. He had become lazy and slow in his life and at work, he achieved nothing.
Automatic is something that many objects are considered to be. They do things for you instead of you doing them yourself. Sometimes this is a good thing and sometimes not, because you should be doing some things on your own instead of having a machine do it for you.
The automatic makes driving easier. The automatic makes driving faster. The automatic makes traffic more bearable. The automatic rules the road.
The manual requires attention, the manual requires practice, the manual asks for effort and planning.
The manual is more fun
It was an automatic response. She swung at me and I swung back. I didn’t think when I did it but, boy, do I have a lot of time to think now. Like 90 days in county. Damn.
The future is full of automatics. Automatic cars, doors are here. What’s next? Automatic refrigerators, where you only have to order? This all must stop before it’s to late.
there is so much tension in the air that i feel like i could faint. there’s words traveling through the room, but all of them pointless, and meaningless in a ridiculous way. she perches as a lady should on the edge of her chair, all grace and poise, and he stands there by the clock, eyes grappling to find somewhere to focus on without embarrassment. “five years next september,” he says automatically when she touches on how long they haven’t met. i almost lunge across the room to strangle hiim, because what happened to the self conscious man that would so easily call me “old sport”? when she talked, all five years of being jay gatsby unraveled until only the young boy remained.
This love was in the making for two years and finally, we’ve made it.
We made it this far and now I can’t shake the feeling that I will never love the way like I used to, the first time around. It’s by far over, thank god, but while it lasted it was… quite different.
I had the breath-taking, knees-shaking kind of experience. The one where your face flushes when you think about him almost every hour or when you wake up from that dream where you almost kissed and are too giddy to go back to sleep again. Our first and only kiss had been short-lived, but dear god it had almost killed me, because my organs had jumped around inside me.
The second time is very different. We do much more together. We’ve known each other for two years after we finally hit it off because we were both too shy for our own good.
And now when we kiss, there are no butterflies or dancing organs. There is your smell, your protective arm around me and your breath against my neck. It seems we move automatic, no matter what we do. In a way, I quite enjoy it. Our relationship seems effortless.
But this dull and distant voice keeps calling out to me.
Was that really it?
She, by route, turned left before she remembered she didn’t have to go left anymore. She tried to sureptitiously turn around, but Sarah caught her eye and waved her down. “Shoot.”
“What are you doing in this neck of the woods?”
“Oh, you know, I was just going for a walk.”
My automatic reaction was to freak out. I started shouting and roaring but nobody was listening. My voice was drowned out by laughter. “Fire!” I screamed. Nobody moved.
´´My higher self is my automatic activity´´, said Robert.
´´Write´´, it replied.
i automatially assumed that I woldn”t find her attractive because she was butch. And i wwas into feminine women. but later on at that dinner i found myself looking at her furtively now and then between bites. her face and her over-all look was making me feel that desire that i had previously felt towards pretty, feminine women.
everytime i heard that word i cant help but hear missy starting that 1,2 song with ciara. never fail…automatic, supersonic. Beside the song being 10+ years old, i dont even particularly like missy elliot either. That song must have been created in a lab using math equations and sonar technology to perfectly master the catchy factor.
automatic door is stuck.
phone is running out of battery.
get help.
only banana in my bag.
i am starving.
the glass is mocking me
i can see outside but noway out.
Once Roger started screaming at me, my response was practically automatic. I didn’t run; I didn’t flinch or pull away as if burned by an invisible flame. I didn’t freeze and let my body stiffen as if I had been dipped into amber and fossilized for future alien archaeologists. No, I was the person who reacted with…well, action. I chose “fight.”
So I hit him. And hard, too. He toppled over, the blood gushing from his nose as if it were a broken faucet, his words torn from his throat as he was too stunned to respond verbally.
I started to look for something small and insignificant, and accidentally came across your baby photos. The tears that fell onto the paper were an automatic response; I didn’t expect to see your smile and small hands, and when my memories came flooding back, there the sadness and joy returned.
The urge to run automatically kicked her heart into racing gear. Bailey shifted her sights to the skyline. Looking above the building and into the orange of the rising sun. It had been so long since she had felt warmth. Down the hatch she went. Hair whipping around in the harsh winds. Sand stinging her skin as it raced through the city streets, jumping into the tunnel below her. She wasn’t sure when she would get the chance to see the sun again. It had been 246 days until today that the opportunity arose. She ducked her head as the latch above her locked into place.
“That’s what I get for choosing to live through this bullshit apocalypse” she mumbled, “should’ve ran when I felt the urge.” The urge to run was always automatic, but she knew better. They always promised that she wouldn’t survive an hour.
His finger slipped into the trigger guard, and his heart went still. His blood stopped pumping. His lungs stopped moving, and every part of his body was suspended in steel and wires and conductivity.
The car stuttered and screamed before the gearbox clattered onto the highway. Skmeone had crashed earlier during peak hour, or sl he guessed because the cars weren’t moving and didnt look like they were going to move. On the map all the roads in the country had been painted red, blocked, unmoving, jambed. But like all things there was movement as some people in fourwheel drives and off road cars decided to make a run for the forrest or into the grass. He eased his foot off of the break and let the csr fall into gear.