motherfucker, what the fuck, you fuckers fucked me for the last time, fuck i’m not even supposed to be in the fucking place, fuck you and everything you stand for, and for dragging me to this fucking place… Fucking fuck and beloved fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck fuckingmootherfuckeryoufuck
This word hurts, as I struggle to understand. I struggle to understand that I am irrevocably beloved, even when it doesnt feel that way, even when i don’t have tangible valentines to remind me of this fact. It is faith that is required to see and understand, and i struggle with that, too. Sometimes people say it back to me – do the reminding for me – “You are beloved.” and this often makes me cry.
My beloved doesn’t exist. There is a void in my life that can’t be filled by anything but my wishful thinking. Pure love is a fallacy, an idealistic dream that no human person can possibly fulfill. But I have my dream, and that is enough to fill in the cracks.
i love my children, i love my wife. i just wish that they all felt the same way. my wifes family has been better to me than my own. i think that i have burnt my bridges with them. they suck.
there was a beloved woman sitting on a rocking chair one morning, mildew fill the air. she was african, waiting for her husband. her husband had died opposing the racism of the 1940’s, but she hoped that one day he might return in whatever form. she knew that he might not look the same, or be the same, but when she saw him, she would know.
In song of songs beloved is used. I love that word, to lay down among the lilies with my beloved, so beautiful. Is it God calling his people, a lover calling his beloved? or both the mystery makes it wonderful.
the beloved trinket had no beloved, it was lonely and lonesome. The concept of conception was what it focused on. Why not, it had nothing better to do and no way of consummating it.
I think that was a movie. I never saw it but now I kind of want to. Beloved. To be LOVED. I wonder if that’s how the word evolved. I have many people who are beloved to me. I hope they feel the same way and I hope that I am held dear to their hearts. Because I don’t know if I could
Jason walked down to the barren shore. Gentle waves lapped at his bare feet. A few hundred feet away, a laser sailboat broke through the glass-like surface. Jason thought of a girl he knew long ago.
“I’ve met someone”, she told him.
He tried to smile; tried to be happy for her. But deep inside, in his secret place, he had felt the tang of pain for his beloved.
Today, as he watched the sailboat wind across the pond, he was reminded of that pain.
To my dear beloved, I think that you are the raddest hardcore girl in the whole freaking whole world. I wish that you could know that I would do anything for you. Habbi is beloved in arabic. It was in a movie called the vistor. Which was good and about imigration in America.
zoo was my name for the place my mother would take me. She liked to bird, I mean bird watch. So she would take me with her into the orchard. I could hear them but I would never see them.
i have nothing much to say about my beloved… thay are the strangest, most annoying, vexing and irritationg people i know… yet there is still love between us… younger sibilings
ohhh my beloved, i find thee so hard to seek. I try but fail. I Love thee so, but why do you avoid me?
I swear i will always looooooooooooooooove you if you come to me. So my beloved come thee.
Gestern ging ich mit meinem Hund spazieren. Es war regnerisch. Ein Mann rempelte mich an. Er entschuldigte sich nicht. Ich ging auch weiter. Als ich wieder Zuhause war, fragte ich mich wieso.
Dann kam mein Hund zu mir und küsste mich mit seinem Schleckermaul. Es war wie ein kleines “Beloved”, dass ich geschenkt bekam. Im Gegensatz zum Rempler des Mannes.
beloved are the times when I could just feel and not have any sort of re precautions to it. and so are the times when i could simply sit and think and write.
beloved, schon wieder, das hatten wir doch gestern erst? Und ich hab doch nicht im Wörterbuch nachgeguckt, wie ich es ursprünglich vorhatte. Das mache ch gleich, nachdem diese Minute vorbei ist. He, kann ich schön schnell schreiben. Bin ich beloved, weil ich so schön schnell schreiben kann? Es wird rot, geich darf ich nur noch diesen einen Satz zuende schreiben, aber es hat ja keiner gesagt, wie lang dieser Satz höchstens sein darf, ich kann das ja unendlich ausdehnen, aber nein, jetzt mach ich Schuss, ähm, Schluss, weil ich los muss.
Und du und ich, wir gehlören zusammen.
warum verstehst du das nicht? Ich liebe dich, aber du willst mich nicht. Ist das nicht verrückt? Nein, du bist verrückt. Ich hasse dich mit allem Hass, den ich empfinde. Und das ist viel. Ich hasse die Welt. Ich hasse dich. Aber ich liebe dich auch. Jetzt komm schon, zeige dich mir.
Oder hast du Angst? Hast du Angst vor mir?
Dann geh, aber ich werde dich finden. Wohin du auch gehst, ich werde dich finden.
She wore a shawl made of lace, tenderly stroking the face before her. A face of laughter in the face of death. A mortality–she touches it and shivers; it plays on her like drunkenness, like irony, like faith.
so many are not beloved, so many are not even aware that they are unloved. why do so many take for granted the fact that they are automaticially loved. So many are dull, ugly, and otherwise unequipped for love.
my beloved has red hair and eyes sometimes the colour of a cat’s, a beautiful gold rimmed with green or sometimes blue. he has ginger stubble mostly, and smells slightly sour, yet still strangely sweet. i love him dearly.
sweet harmony – the song pops automatically into my head whenever someone says that word. Damn it’s difficult to think straight when you’re so hungover from your last broken relationship…
Time passes and you barely notice and then it stops.
Why do I do this? All of the things that I do? I think I just want to make people proud of me, to make them love me. They’ve always told me that they do, but it’s never been enough. I feel like I always have to strive harder, higher, to be someone worthwhile, to be someone loveable, to be someone that people want as a friend.
The air was of daffodils
moving gently in the wind.
Your hair,
filled with daffodils
was moving gently in the wind.
You smile
and take my hand.
The sweetness of today
will remain, beloved.
I am beloved. Not by you, not by myself, but by someone, somewhere. Maybe they know it, maybe they don’t. Someday, we’ll see. We’ll all see. And it will work out, maybe. Maybe I will love them back. Maybe not. Who knows? I sure don’t. Love is strange, as am I.
so many beloveds. I miss them and wondering if they know that they are be loved by me.
motherfucker, what the fuck, you fuckers fucked me for the last time, fuck i’m not even supposed to be in the fucking place, fuck you and everything you stand for, and for dragging me to this fucking place… Fucking fuck and beloved fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck fuckingmootherfuckeryoufuck
This word hurts, as I struggle to understand. I struggle to understand that I am irrevocably beloved, even when it doesnt feel that way, even when i don’t have tangible valentines to remind me of this fact. It is faith that is required to see and understand, and i struggle with that, too. Sometimes people say it back to me – do the reminding for me – “You are beloved.” and this often makes me cry.
My beloved doesn’t exist. There is a void in my life that can’t be filled by anything but my wishful thinking. Pure love is a fallacy, an idealistic dream that no human person can possibly fulfill. But I have my dream, and that is enough to fill in the cracks.
i love my children, i love my wife. i just wish that they all felt the same way. my wifes family has been better to me than my own. i think that i have burnt my bridges with them. they suck.
me , and nothing, or maybe everything.
there was a beloved woman sitting on a rocking chair one morning, mildew fill the air. she was african, waiting for her husband. her husband had died opposing the racism of the 1940’s, but she hoped that one day he might return in whatever form. she knew that he might not look the same, or be the same, but when she saw him, she would know.
In song of songs beloved is used. I love that word, to lay down among the lilies with my beloved, so beautiful. Is it God calling his people, a lover calling his beloved? or both the mystery makes it wonderful.
the beloved trinket had no beloved, it was lonely and lonesome. The concept of conception was what it focused on. Why not, it had nothing better to do and no way of consummating it.
I think that was a movie. I never saw it but now I kind of want to. Beloved. To be LOVED. I wonder if that’s how the word evolved. I have many people who are beloved to me. I hope they feel the same way and I hope that I am held dear to their hearts. Because I don’t know if I could
Jason walked down to the barren shore. Gentle waves lapped at his bare feet. A few hundred feet away, a laser sailboat broke through the glass-like surface. Jason thought of a girl he knew long ago.
“I’ve met someone”, she told him.
He tried to smile; tried to be happy for her. But deep inside, in his secret place, he had felt the tang of pain for his beloved.
Today, as he watched the sailboat wind across the pond, he was reminded of that pain.
Beloved.such a simple yet perfect thing to say.
such a word expresses so many emotions to one person,that i do not think one can explain how it feels.
To my dear beloved, I think that you are the raddest hardcore girl in the whole freaking whole world. I wish that you could know that I would do anything for you. Habbi is beloved in arabic. It was in a movie called the vistor. Which was good and about imigration in America.
My dear beloved, how can I explain with words how much you truly mean in my heart?
Words have not yet been invented to express the way you are beloved by me.
It was raining cats and dogs ….. my sister just told me my beloved father had just passed away …..
zoo was my name for the place my mother would take me. She liked to bird, I mean bird watch. So she would take me with her into the orchard. I could hear them but I would never see them.
Who is beloved. how is it different from loved. I be loved? Your beloved. refers to spouse. This thing lets you type as longas you want!!!!
beloved people are your family. there the most precious people you have.They care for you and look out for you
i have nothing much to say about my beloved… thay are the strangest, most annoying, vexing and irritationg people i know… yet there is still love between us… younger sibilings
My beloved wore purple clothing. Not just one shade mind you, but all shades of purple. Deep purple, and lilac. My beloved is purple.
ohhh my beloved, i find thee so hard to seek. I try but fail. I Love thee so, but why do you avoid me?
I swear i will always looooooooooooooooove you if you come to me. So my beloved come thee.
Gestern ging ich mit meinem Hund spazieren. Es war regnerisch. Ein Mann rempelte mich an. Er entschuldigte sich nicht. Ich ging auch weiter. Als ich wieder Zuhause war, fragte ich mich wieso.
Dann kam mein Hund zu mir und küsste mich mit seinem Schleckermaul. Es war wie ein kleines “Beloved”, dass ich geschenkt bekam. Im Gegensatz zum Rempler des Mannes.
Did you know that the name Sukki is Japanese for “beloved”?
Also, Sokka means “artist” and Haru means “born in the spring”!
My beloved is carried in my heart and mind every second I breathe. Life-giving lover who heals and nourishes my soul. Forever together
My beloved is carried in my heart and mind every second I breathe. Life-giving lover who heals and nourishes my soul. Forever together
beloved are the times when I could just feel and not have any sort of re precautions to it. and so are the times when i could simply sit and think and write.
beloved, schon wieder, das hatten wir doch gestern erst? Und ich hab doch nicht im Wörterbuch nachgeguckt, wie ich es ursprünglich vorhatte. Das mache ch gleich, nachdem diese Minute vorbei ist. He, kann ich schön schnell schreiben. Bin ich beloved, weil ich so schön schnell schreiben kann? Es wird rot, geich darf ich nur noch diesen einen Satz zuende schreiben, aber es hat ja keiner gesagt, wie lang dieser Satz höchstens sein darf, ich kann das ja unendlich ausdehnen, aber nein, jetzt mach ich Schuss, ähm, Schluss, weil ich los muss.
love life let loose lust sex sign share life kiss destiny lost smile happy sex live and all that in one box.
“i am my beloved and he is mine.” love between a master and his servants.
Und du und ich, wir gehlören zusammen.
warum verstehst du das nicht? Ich liebe dich, aber du willst mich nicht. Ist das nicht verrückt? Nein, du bist verrückt. Ich hasse dich mit allem Hass, den ich empfinde. Und das ist viel. Ich hasse die Welt. Ich hasse dich. Aber ich liebe dich auch. Jetzt komm schon, zeige dich mir.
Oder hast du Angst? Hast du Angst vor mir?
Dann geh, aber ich werde dich finden. Wohin du auch gehst, ich werde dich finden.
She wore a shawl made of lace, tenderly stroking the face before her. A face of laughter in the face of death. A mortality–she touches it and shivers; it plays on her like drunkenness, like irony, like faith.
so many are not beloved, so many are not even aware that they are unloved. why do so many take for granted the fact that they are automaticially loved. So many are dull, ugly, and otherwise unequipped for love.
my beloved has red hair and eyes sometimes the colour of a cat’s, a beautiful gold rimmed with green or sometimes blue. he has ginger stubble mostly, and smells slightly sour, yet still strangely sweet. i love him dearly.
I have a beloved, he is mine and I am his. I love my beloved, though I haven’t found him yet.
sweet harmony – the song pops automatically into my head whenever someone says that word. Damn it’s difficult to think straight when you’re so hungover from your last broken relationship…
Time passes and you barely notice and then it stops.
someone close to you, dear to you…someone totally precious to you and probably won’t ever hurt you. they just can’t, not without losing that crown.
me beloved you beloved she beloved who beloved love or beloved true beloved? see love be loved
no more loved
Why do I do this? All of the things that I do? I think I just want to make people proud of me, to make them love me. They’ve always told me that they do, but it’s never been enough. I feel like I always have to strive harder, higher, to be someone worthwhile, to be someone loveable, to be someone that people want as a friend.
The air was of daffodils
moving gently in the wind.
Your hair,
filled with daffodils
was moving gently in the wind.
You smile
and take my hand.
The sweetness of today
will remain, beloved.
I am beloved. Not by you, not by myself, but by someone, somewhere. Maybe they know it, maybe they don’t. Someday, we’ll see. We’ll all see. And it will work out, maybe. Maybe I will love them back. Maybe not. Who knows? I sure don’t. Love is strange, as am I.