Beforehand, I was in love. Now i’m just a fucked up little shithead. Beforehand, I believed in forever. Now I realize that no one truly knows what forever means. Beforehand, I wish I could go back to then. I hate what I am and what I am without now.
It’sfinallyfuckingChristmasandyou’retextinganyoneotherthanmeoryourfamily?You’retextingyourex?That’ssomefuckingbullshit.Haven’twantedtotouchintimatelyinbedallweek? Whatthefuckisthatabout?
Ifuckinglovetakingcareofyouevenwhenyoudon’tneedit.Idon’ttreatyoulikeanuiscance?Wanttoknowwhy
IjokinglySaidanythingaboutyourlifewithoutahome?BecauseSamcalledyouahoboandyourdogbobo.
IdidntwanttotellyoubecauseIdidntseeitthatwayatall.Ineverhave.Butyoubroughtupallyourthingsinvading
myspace.IexpecteditnoOtherway.Idon’tseeyoulivingwithmeoutofnecessity.Ihopethatyoudon’t.Idon’twant
youtohavetolivewithmebeforeyoucanevenmanagetotellmethatyouloveme.MakesshitTough.Everyoneis
secondtoMe.firstpersonthatyoutext.firstpersonyoutalkto.firstpersonyouthinkof.ThentherestAreSecondary
IthinkitShowsaninsaneamountoftrusttonotTouchyourSelfphone.Butifyouwanttokeeptextingandtalkingto
otherpeople.Mefirst.MemeMemememememememememememememememememememememememeallme.
Andyou,you,you,you,you,heart,heart,heart,heart, starts restarts. Turnkey. Ignite. Take one word. Turn it into
one phrase. Take one phrase, and you turn it into a paragraph. Restart. Take this idea and turn into
an outline, no, a dream, no a city, you think and think, but what if you can’t. Well, that’s something for
you to consider when you complete your dream. But what if you can’t dream. Well, that’s something for
you to consider when you complete your outline. But what if you can’t outline, then you. Restart.
Repeat and repeat, seive out the nuances, the differences, the wrongs. This is your idea, this is what you
pine on and on until you transform it into a pinetree that branches into your brain’s lower echelon of thought:
it’s a base idea. The better, you think. Of course, it’s only natural, natural that this should be the stump of your
idea, right about where your cerebellum should be. Since your ideas branch out, like the tendrils of a kraken
trapped in the grey sea around your brain material
beforehand was a concept i was familiar with, but still unable to fully understand its magnitude. of course, it was simple, beforehand referred to what you had just mentioned, written, talked about and all.
Shit. Time was running. I didn’t know this was to be timed beforehand. All I wanted was to write. But I have trouble getting the words out. I have trouble creating them, weaving them into phrases and sentences that actually make sense.
When you want to say something rash, think beforehand, of what the effects might do to those people. Chances are, they will be disgusted and choose to stop talking with you.
The game began, and both teams played like tigers, fighting for glory. Killen watched from high in the stands, impressed by their spirit, but feeling slightly sorry for them, knowing as he did that the result had been decided beforehand.
Okay, people, listen up. Christmas comes EVERY DECEMBER 25, m’kay? So do your shopping beforehand. Don’t wait until the night before. Let the people who work retail for minimum wage get some rest, okay? Cheers.
I never ever thought about that word until today’s funeral. Beforehand. What the fuck is that anyway? The opposite of backhand? My father gave me one one of those every night at dinner.
There was an afterhand and a beforehand…each doing what they do…one ahead of the other…the other always tagging alone, behind. She hardly would have known what to do with either of them, had it not been for …
It wasn’t just any other word. It was the word. The one that I have seen in my dreams. It is such a weird thing to visualise as well – beforehand. But somehow I know I am “seeing” the word in my dream. And… not only that. I am seeing it, even hearing it while awake. A mystery if nothing else. Surely a testament to my brain cells rebelling against the effects of age.
All ramblings aside though, I think it’s prime time for some tea and biscuit.
You said that you cannot recall what it was like. She said that she had prepared for that beforehand. But you would not be appeased, your eyes vacant like the bare attic windows the collected nothing but dust and cobwebs over the years.
We didn’t think to ask beforehand. The snow was thick, slicing through the air at an angle that was painfully aligned with our eyes. We grimly found our tattered coats and mittens and took one last, long look before we disappeared into the night.
Before hands, there were feet. About three cubic feet of practical dirt and other nonsense. Why? Still we build around this creative principle.
how?
As I said before: hand.
Violence came naturally to them. So it was obvious that they wouldn’t think of the consequences, that they wouldn’t parcel out the blame beforehand. Of course not. Hindsight is 20/20. They run in guns blazing and at the end of the day (it’s only then) that they look back and see exactly what they’ve done. Someone always ends up dead. Usually young, small, unprotected. It starts out as an accident. It becomes a way of life.
If I only knew you would be such a prick beforehand, I would have smacked you in the face first. Why cant we rewind the moment and see what can be redone beforehand so that it doesn’t have to happen again.
BEfore my hand reaches around ans smacked her in the face, I had a sudden moment of clarity. I was really doing this. I was about to physically and visiously smack Great Aunt Catherine in the face.
Having readied my bags beforehand, it was only a matter of moments before I’d vacated our house. As I slid into the front seat of my car, the engine revving to life, I supposed that wasn’t true anymore. It wasn’t our house; it was hers now. Only hers.
I should of let my neice know that I wasnt going to be there on her birthday beforehand. She may have been less aggravated if she would of had the comfort that she had already expected my absence. Birthdays are a big deal in my family, we all come together for everyones special day. She was so disturbed by my absence that she called my ten times that day, but I was on a plane. Going to Korea, so sad how I have no forseight.
i thought she was going to do it, beforehand, and i was scared, she pulled the trigger and that’s all i remember, now i’m here, lost, but, who was she? will i ever meet her again, i know she killed me but i think i love her.
I never thought about what would happen beforehand, I just performed. I didn’t care what other would think, I didn’t even care what Master would think. I just did.
The excitement while performing was vast, and the relief afterwards was such a good feeling.
I never regretted my decision. I stuck with it til the end.
I wish I hadn’t done the afterhand to create a “before” in its stead. Before I was comfortable, before I knew the task by heart, before…before…I know now how I loved what was before.
Beforehand is an overly long word that means something about doing something before which could be said just as easily as that. I don’t know the actual meaning but I think that the existence of such a word is to make life easier but is that really what we need? Life is to easy and needs to be more of a challenge, don’t you agree?
Bobby totally blindsided Kathy with the surprise marriage proposal. She hadn’t seen it coming in the slightest. Not that she would refuse him, she loved Bobby with all her heart. But it would have been nice for someone to warn her beforehand so she could have showered and changed before she showed up to the “quiet dinner”. But… love is love and he’d seen her in worse shape.
there was no before with you and I, this is the beginning, there is no way this could go any different. the moment—no, the way I saw you—the light maybe, no other explanation. it’s a genetic thing i guess. i read those books once. Free will is not real, and energy never dies. Am I to be a ghost of evolution? The weaker mind, tricked into thinking he has say in every choice. If this day ends with a train ride, than I’ll know that there is no such thing as free will. Let’s try not think about it, okay?
Beforehand, he never thought that he could commit murder, but after, as he held the bloody knife in his hand, he knew that anything were possible. It was only one murder; there wouldn’t be any more, would there?
Sinking unto a darkness most profound and desolate, the old gun fighter lay across the front seat of his faded pickup, reaching for the glove compartment for his letter. The luminarias glowed with a certain solitude that blew with the sandy wind, undisturbed and was the only source of light for this disappearing man. Just a second, he murmured. He needed to write one last scribble beforehand.
The ship sank before his eyes as he floated on the the fire extinguisher in the water and remembered the time that he almost drowned in the lake behind his house. Beforehand, he would always check the water with his toes for the right temperature. The water always felt like a frost. His whole body lurched, convulsed, and finally remained tightly motionless as he sank deeper and deeper until he touched a sandy bottom.
After the fact I will toss the rowboat into the waves
right now I will kiss your ear
but in the past
oh lordy, in the past
I will take ten pieces of chocolate from that time
melt them down and huck them at crows
There was a time when I believed everything I did led to a distinct purpose. I felt as though my life was being guided by some supreme force who was watching over me… a kind of referee who would blow the whistle if something unfair happened. That was beforehand. Before I lost my love, lost my purpose and lost my god. Now I know the rules are not governed and I can no longer live by them. I have no need for them anymore. They are to be broken like hearts, promises and dreams.
It was simple: I didn’t know what I was doing, but I knew it didn’t matter, at least for a while. After, though, I realized I should’ve put more thought into it.
I’m sort of wishing she’d let me know beforehand. I mean honestly, I’m just so unprepared and exhausted and hungry lately, so a little bit of preparation would’ve been nice. Or at least a chance. This, I feel like, is going nowhere. I just need some time to think.
Her eyes widened. What she saw shocked every fiber of her being. The green haired man had plunged an axe into her father’s head and was now dragging his bloody body around the living room, the wooden handle of the heavy ax firmly held in his blood soaked hands. She retched.
She shouldn’t have left….She shouldn’t have left daddy alone in this shady apartment, unguarded, to defend himself with his bony limbs.
But how could she have known beforehand?
Her eyes rolled and she fell to the floor.
I crossed the river that cut short out of no where, there was no place for me to jump and I knew I should have become prepared beforehand. This was all too hard to do in a matter of time, I needed to move faster though, or they were going to catch up. I pasted myself, quickly jumping over the river, falling onto my back. Alive.
There was no tension beforehand, but now, there was no going back. He was awake, and she had to find a way to sneak out before he noticed. She turned the corner, the key she had come for in hand. He promised he would give it to her, but hearing that he promised the same to someone who wanted her dead, well, she had to take it.
I didn’t know what the outcome would be. I just wanted us to be together. That’s all I knew, I didn’t know beforehand that all of this would come about. I just wish I could go back. Back to before. Back to when you used to look at me like I was your world. I was your one and only. Back to us. Back to love.
Beforehand, I was in love. Now i’m just a fucked up little shithead. Beforehand, I believed in forever. Now I realize that no one truly knows what forever means. Beforehand, I wish I could go back to then. I hate what I am and what I am without now.
It’sfinallyfuckingChristmasandyou’retextinganyoneotherthanmeoryourfamily?You’retextingyourex?That’ssomefuckingbullshit.Haven’twantedtotouchintimatelyinbedallweek? Whatthefuckisthatabout?
Ifuckinglovetakingcareofyouevenwhenyoudon’tneedit.Idon’ttreatyoulikeanuiscance?Wanttoknowwhy
IjokinglySaidanythingaboutyourlifewithoutahome?BecauseSamcalledyouahoboandyourdogbobo.
IdidntwanttotellyoubecauseIdidntseeitthatwayatall.Ineverhave.Butyoubroughtupallyourthingsinvading
myspace.IexpecteditnoOtherway.Idon’tseeyoulivingwithmeoutofnecessity.Ihopethatyoudon’t.Idon’twant
youtohavetolivewithmebeforeyoucanevenmanagetotellmethatyouloveme.MakesshitTough.Everyoneis
secondtoMe.firstpersonthatyoutext.firstpersonyoutalkto.firstpersonyouthinkof.ThentherestAreSecondary
IthinkitShowsaninsaneamountoftrusttonotTouchyourSelfphone.Butifyouwanttokeeptextingandtalkingto
otherpeople.Mefirst.MemeMemememememememememememememememememememememememeallme.
Andyou,you,you,you,you,heart,heart,heart,heart, starts restarts. Turnkey. Ignite. Take one word. Turn it into
one phrase. Take one phrase, and you turn it into a paragraph. Restart. Take this idea and turn into
an outline, no, a dream, no a city, you think and think, but what if you can’t. Well, that’s something for
you to consider when you complete your dream. But what if you can’t dream. Well, that’s something for
you to consider when you complete your outline. But what if you can’t outline, then you. Restart.
Repeat and repeat, seive out the nuances, the differences, the wrongs. This is your idea, this is what you
pine on and on until you transform it into a pinetree that branches into your brain’s lower echelon of thought:
it’s a base idea. The better, you think. Of course, it’s only natural, natural that this should be the stump of your
idea, right about where your cerebellum should be. Since your ideas branch out, like the tendrils of a kraken
trapped in the grey sea around your brain material
beforehand was a concept i was familiar with, but still unable to fully understand its magnitude. of course, it was simple, beforehand referred to what you had just mentioned, written, talked about and all.
Prepare me for the fall.
Shit. Time was running. I didn’t know this was to be timed beforehand. All I wanted was to write. But I have trouble getting the words out. I have trouble creating them, weaving them into phrases and sentences that actually make sense.
When you want to say something rash, think beforehand, of what the effects might do to those people. Chances are, they will be disgusted and choose to stop talking with you.
Beforehand, I had this feeling. Beforehand seems so far away. Beforehand doesn’t sound right.
The game began, and both teams played like tigers, fighting for glory. Killen watched from high in the stands, impressed by their spirit, but feeling slightly sorry for them, knowing as he did that the result had been decided beforehand.
Okay, people, listen up. Christmas comes EVERY DECEMBER 25, m’kay? So do your shopping beforehand. Don’t wait until the night before. Let the people who work retail for minimum wage get some rest, okay? Cheers.
I never ever thought about that word until today’s funeral. Beforehand. What the fuck is that anyway? The opposite of backhand? My father gave me one one of those every night at dinner.
There was an afterhand and a beforehand…each doing what they do…one ahead of the other…the other always tagging alone, behind. She hardly would have known what to do with either of them, had it not been for …
It wasn’t just any other word. It was the word. The one that I have seen in my dreams. It is such a weird thing to visualise as well – beforehand. But somehow I know I am “seeing” the word in my dream. And… not only that. I am seeing it, even hearing it while awake. A mystery if nothing else. Surely a testament to my brain cells rebelling against the effects of age.
All ramblings aside though, I think it’s prime time for some tea and biscuit.
You said that you cannot recall what it was like. She said that she had prepared for that beforehand. But you would not be appeased, your eyes vacant like the bare attic windows the collected nothing but dust and cobwebs over the years.
We didn’t think to ask beforehand. The snow was thick, slicing through the air at an angle that was painfully aligned with our eyes. We grimly found our tattered coats and mittens and took one last, long look before we disappeared into the night.
Before hands, there were feet. About three cubic feet of practical dirt and other nonsense. Why? Still we build around this creative principle.
how?
As I said before: hand.
Before hands, there were feet. About three cubic feet of practical dirt and other nonsense. Why? Still we build around this creative principle.
how
Violence came naturally to them. So it was obvious that they wouldn’t think of the consequences, that they wouldn’t parcel out the blame beforehand. Of course not. Hindsight is 20/20. They run in guns blazing and at the end of the day (it’s only then) that they look back and see exactly what they’ve done. Someone always ends up dead. Usually young, small, unprotected. It starts out as an accident. It becomes a way of life.
If I only knew you would be such a prick beforehand, I would have smacked you in the face first. Why cant we rewind the moment and see what can be redone beforehand so that it doesn’t have to happen again.
BEfore my hand reaches around ans smacked her in the face, I had a sudden moment of clarity. I was really doing this. I was about to physically and visiously smack Great Aunt Catherine in the face.
Having readied my bags beforehand, it was only a matter of moments before I’d vacated our house. As I slid into the front seat of my car, the engine revving to life, I supposed that wasn’t true anymore. It wasn’t our house; it was hers now. Only hers.
I should of let my neice know that I wasnt going to be there on her birthday beforehand. She may have been less aggravated if she would of had the comfort that she had already expected my absence. Birthdays are a big deal in my family, we all come together for everyones special day. She was so disturbed by my absence that she called my ten times that day, but I was on a plane. Going to Korea, so sad how I have no forseight.
i thought she was going to do it, beforehand, and i was scared, she pulled the trigger and that’s all i remember, now i’m here, lost, but, who was she? will i ever meet her again, i know she killed me but i think i love her.
I never thought about what would happen beforehand, I just performed. I didn’t care what other would think, I didn’t even care what Master would think. I just did.
The excitement while performing was vast, and the relief afterwards was such a good feeling.
I never regretted my decision. I stuck with it til the end.
I wish I hadn’t done the afterhand to create a “before” in its stead. Before I was comfortable, before I knew the task by heart, before…before…I know now how I loved what was before.
Beforehand is an overly long word that means something about doing something before which could be said just as easily as that. I don’t know the actual meaning but I think that the existence of such a word is to make life easier but is that really what we need? Life is to easy and needs to be more of a challenge, don’t you agree?
Bobby totally blindsided Kathy with the surprise marriage proposal. She hadn’t seen it coming in the slightest. Not that she would refuse him, she loved Bobby with all her heart. But it would have been nice for someone to warn her beforehand so she could have showered and changed before she showed up to the “quiet dinner”. But… love is love and he’d seen her in worse shape.
there was no before with you and I, this is the beginning, there is no way this could go any different. the moment—no, the way I saw you—the light maybe, no other explanation. it’s a genetic thing i guess. i read those books once. Free will is not real, and energy never dies. Am I to be a ghost of evolution? The weaker mind, tricked into thinking he has say in every choice. If this day ends with a train ride, than I’ll know that there is no such thing as free will. Let’s try not think about it, okay?
Beforehand, he never thought that he could commit murder, but after, as he held the bloody knife in his hand, he knew that anything were possible. It was only one murder; there wouldn’t be any more, would there?
“I’m going to the concert, but I have to do some shopping beforehand.”
“For what?”
“Oh, you know.” She waved her hand dismissively. “Bare essentials for the refrigerator. Milk, eggs, bread, butter…”
“Get the Irish butter,” I encouraged her. “It’s perfect for the holidays.”
“And smell like a leprechaun for the Gay Men’s Choir? Beautiful.”
“Hey,” I said with a smile, “means there’s a pot of gold at the end of their rainbow.”
Sinking unto a darkness most profound and desolate, the old gun fighter lay across the front seat of his faded pickup, reaching for the glove compartment for his letter. The luminarias glowed with a certain solitude that blew with the sandy wind, undisturbed and was the only source of light for this disappearing man. Just a second, he murmured. He needed to write one last scribble beforehand.
The ship sank before his eyes as he floated on the the fire extinguisher in the water and remembered the time that he almost drowned in the lake behind his house. Beforehand, he would always check the water with his toes for the right temperature. The water always felt like a frost. His whole body lurched, convulsed, and finally remained tightly motionless as he sank deeper and deeper until he touched a sandy bottom.
After the fact I will toss the rowboat into the waves
right now I will kiss your ear
but in the past
oh lordy, in the past
I will take ten pieces of chocolate from that time
melt them down and huck them at crows
There was a time when I believed everything I did led to a distinct purpose. I felt as though my life was being guided by some supreme force who was watching over me… a kind of referee who would blow the whistle if something unfair happened. That was beforehand. Before I lost my love, lost my purpose and lost my god. Now I know the rules are not governed and I can no longer live by them. I have no need for them anymore. They are to be broken like hearts, promises and dreams.
It was simple: I didn’t know what I was doing, but I knew it didn’t matter, at least for a while. After, though, I realized I should’ve put more thought into it.
I’m sort of wishing she’d let me know beforehand. I mean honestly, I’m just so unprepared and exhausted and hungry lately, so a little bit of preparation would’ve been nice. Or at least a chance. This, I feel like, is going nowhere. I just need some time to think.
Her eyes widened. What she saw shocked every fiber of her being. The green haired man had plunged an axe into her father’s head and was now dragging his bloody body around the living room, the wooden handle of the heavy ax firmly held in his blood soaked hands. She retched.
She shouldn’t have left….She shouldn’t have left daddy alone in this shady apartment, unguarded, to defend himself with his bony limbs.
But how could she have known beforehand?
Her eyes rolled and she fell to the floor.
I crossed the river that cut short out of no where, there was no place for me to jump and I knew I should have become prepared beforehand. This was all too hard to do in a matter of time, I needed to move faster though, or they were going to catch up. I pasted myself, quickly jumping over the river, falling onto my back. Alive.
There was no tension beforehand, but now, there was no going back. He was awake, and she had to find a way to sneak out before he noticed. She turned the corner, the key she had come for in hand. He promised he would give it to her, but hearing that he promised the same to someone who wanted her dead, well, she had to take it.
I didn’t know what the outcome would be. I just wanted us to be together. That’s all I knew, I didn’t know beforehand that all of this would come about. I just wish I could go back. Back to before. Back to when you used to look at me like I was your world. I was your one and only. Back to us. Back to love.
There was lot’s of things to do. to many things to do. before this baby comes. we need to hurry. there is not much time and were still not ready