I was complete. Nothing was left to be had, when all the world was at my feet. The wind, the sunshine, the birds in the trees, totally perfect and in sink with this utter sense of completion and accomplishment that I had come to in this point and time.
Complete- a relative term or an unachievable ideal? when is anything really complete? when it is finished? when it is done like a turkey? ironically, tho the word signifies finality, it raises more questions that it answers.
I am not complete. You don’t have anything I want except for nice legs, maybe, and hands that learned on other girls. I don’t like your laugh and I don’t like the way you sing. When we sat under the statue to watch the lightning I felt happy, but I was not complete. You don’t complete me and you never will.
I have to complete this assignment because if I don’t then I will get a bad grade and if i get a bad grade then I can’t go to Brazil or maybe I can just wash the car and go to camp for the rest of my life.
My thoughts are always incomplete. What can I do to complete them? Learn to think faster? Learn to TYPE faster? I just don’t know. Maybe I just need to calm down and
I was complete until the lever broke. Then everything began to fall apart; first the legs, then the arms, and finally my head toppled from its trunk. What do all the passers-by think when they see the jumble of disassembled pieces on the ground? I shudder to think.
complete; com-plete. feeling complete. comfort. security. in this world we are in no way shape or form able to feel completel. how can we feel complete in a world full of dissatisfaction. human nature tugs on those sensitive strings of wanting what we can not have. when we can allow ourselves to be satisfied with what we already have, we will be complete.
never feeling alone. in a way we can all feel complete once pure surreal life encaptures us in a land of disbelief. we will never be complete in a world that wants more.
ive done everything there is to do! i have now finished all my work for the year which is really great and fulfilling. I fear now that i will have nothing to occupy myself with..as there is literally nothing to do! i have completed everything, however a part of me feels like it is still missing, how ironic!
complete, like “you complete me”? tide complete care. Completely pointless. Completely irreversible. Irreversible shorts being washed with Tide. So, normal shorts. Reversible shorts wouldn’t need to get cleaned after just a single stain, unless it soaked through.
You make me complete. You take all my broken bits, and fit them together so gently. You create me. You breathe life into me. You are my mother, my father, and my lover.
“You complete me,” squeaked the blonde woman in the romantic comedy I was watching, as she rested her head against the charming, muscular man’s chest. I facepalmed.
so i completed the essay. it was bad. i didn’t realise it, but my shoes had melted to the seat, and conrad was calling for a cup of flour. you know, the unbleached kind. so, i says to conrad, “what the fuck you want flour for? don’t you know i already have a loaf of bread in the refrigerator?”
“you idiot, everyone knows bread goes in the microwave! come hither, that i may slap you about for you steaming igorance!”
and i was smacked about repeatedly. oh well… nothing new.
She was going to complete the prototype in a few days. I was less than enthusiastic, I admit; while she had her flashes of brilliance, the majority of her designs were flawed.
I’ve never met a person who felt complete. Complete is something you to do a math worksheet. There are holes in everyone though, no matter how hard you try to fill them.
I am beside myself in awe. The light of him shines down on me as if to show the world I’m the one he wants. I’m center stage. i complete him. and he is the star that lights up my world. without him, my life is a colorless black mass of nothing.
I don’t need anyone else to feel complete. I am whole, and I always have been. I’m not out there searching for another half when I know I have everything I need.
In complete and utter agony he stood up, then reeled back when he looked over the edge of the cliff. It was a good three hundred foot drop to the jagged rocks among crashing waves in the tempestuous ocean, and fighting back tears, he leaned against the rock face, sliding down and hugging his knees to his cracked ribs.
Complete is not something you are.
It’s not something you become either, but it’d what we all strive for.
Nothing is ever complete, just pretty close.
You can always do better, so don’t set completion limits for yourself.
i want to be complete. you know sometimes i feel complete and sometimes I dont. I wonder if I will ever feel complete all the time. Then I wonder if I already am complete and just dont realize it. Maybe completeness involves feeling uncomplete sometimes.
You complete me. That phrase has always annoyed the hell out of me, and I think I know why. It sounds so utterly pathetic. Usually said to one’s lover, boyfriend, girlfriend, spouse, it’s supposed to be sweet and express how important the person is to you. But that doesn’t make it any less pathetic. I, honestly, would slap myself in the face if I ever thought I couldn’t go on living just because someone I love left me.
You complete me? What a weird phrase. I exist within myself, as myself, and not apart of anyone else. I love because it is mine to give away and others seem to have their roots in my heart, but I am a complete being all on my own.
If I do all the things that I dream and wish to do in this life time, and I feel that I have accomplished all i need. Then I will consider my life to be complete.
“Just one more piece,” he soothed, reaching for the thread and needle. “Just one more, and you’ll be done.”
“Complete?” his creature breathed hopefully.
“Yes. And I promise, it won’t be like that book I read you. You will be happy; we both will.”
It shall never be complete. I am missing dozens of piece, the ones I do have are warped with the heat of the ages, and I cannot make neighbors fit. I stare down at the puzzle, and to me it is the most pathetic sight in the world. I stare down at the puzzle. It will never be complete.
Something is never complete ’till it’s broken.
It’s this unspoken thought that does not
present itself to the public but is suspect
to misinterpretation.
last night, i was completely convinced i wanted to kill myself. of course, i didn’t, and i don’t want to right now. but last night i really really did. it’s not fair i have to deal with this right now. i’m fourteen and i’m supposed to decide if i want to take an anti-depressant. i’m so incomplete i don’t think it matters one way or another.
I was complete. Nothing was left to be had, when all the world was at my feet. The wind, the sunshine, the birds in the trees, totally perfect and in sink with this utter sense of completion and accomplishment that I had come to in this point and time.
That is, until that night.
Complete- a relative term or an unachievable ideal? when is anything really complete? when it is finished? when it is done like a turkey? ironically, tho the word signifies finality, it raises more questions that it answers.
I am not complete. You don’t have anything I want except for nice legs, maybe, and hands that learned on other girls. I don’t like your laugh and I don’t like the way you sing. When we sat under the statue to watch the lightning I felt happy, but I was not complete. You don’t complete me and you never will.
I have to complete this assignment because if I don’t then I will get a bad grade and if i get a bad grade then I can’t go to Brazil or maybe I can just wash the car and go to camp for the rest of my life.
My thoughts are always incomplete. What can I do to complete them? Learn to think faster? Learn to TYPE faster? I just don’t know. Maybe I just need to calm down and
I was complete until the lever broke. Then everything began to fall apart; first the legs, then the arms, and finally my head toppled from its trunk. What do all the passers-by think when they see the jumble of disassembled pieces on the ground? I shudder to think.
complete; com-plete. feeling complete. comfort. security. in this world we are in no way shape or form able to feel completel. how can we feel complete in a world full of dissatisfaction. human nature tugs on those sensitive strings of wanting what we can not have. when we can allow ourselves to be satisfied with what we already have, we will be complete.
never feeling alone. in a way we can all feel complete once pure surreal life encaptures us in a land of disbelief. we will never be complete in a world that wants more.
Complete is me and you. You complete me. You are my life and my life is now complete. Without you I am incomplete.
Complete. I never seem to feel complete. I never seem to be able to complete a story either. Hmm…
I am complete with you. You complete me and make me whole again. Without you I am incomplete. I am completely in Love with you.
ive done everything there is to do! i have now finished all my work for the year which is really great and fulfilling. I fear now that i will have nothing to occupy myself with..as there is literally nothing to do! i have completed everything, however a part of me feels like it is still missing, how ironic!
complete, like “you complete me”? tide complete care. Completely pointless. Completely irreversible. Irreversible shorts being washed with Tide. So, normal shorts. Reversible shorts wouldn’t need to get cleaned after just a single stain, unless it soaked through.
Sex, peaches, sleep, again. The summer pleasures of stone fruit, clean sheets in foreign locales. She feels heavy and light at once; somehow complete.
You make me complete. You take all my broken bits, and fit them together so gently. You create me. You breathe life into me. You are my mother, my father, and my lover.
I am complete. I am one. I have been within myself. I know my soul and I can do anything. I am my own person.
You have to compelte the goals you have in life. Don’t just keep them on your to
Nothing is finished. Nothing is complete. Nothing reaches the end. Nothing is going to start all over.
“You complete me,” squeaked the blonde woman in the romantic comedy I was watching, as she rested her head against the charming, muscular man’s chest. I facepalmed.
so i completed the essay. it was bad. i didn’t realise it, but my shoes had melted to the seat, and conrad was calling for a cup of flour. you know, the unbleached kind. so, i says to conrad, “what the fuck you want flour for? don’t you know i already have a loaf of bread in the refrigerator?”
“you idiot, everyone knows bread goes in the microwave! come hither, that i may slap you about for you steaming igorance!”
and i was smacked about repeatedly. oh well… nothing new.
Although the Web site is not yet complete, it went live last night. I’m still working out some small details.
She was going to complete the prototype in a few days. I was less than enthusiastic, I admit; while she had her flashes of brilliance, the majority of her designs were flawed.
Before we met I didn’t know who I was. But you make me complete.
I’ve never met a person who felt complete. Complete is something you to do a math worksheet. There are holes in everyone though, no matter how hard you try to fill them.
I am beside myself in awe. The light of him shines down on me as if to show the world I’m the one he wants. I’m center stage. i complete him. and he is the star that lights up my world. without him, my life is a colorless black mass of nothing.
I don’t need anyone else to feel complete. I am whole, and I always have been. I’m not out there searching for another half when I know I have everything I need.
In complete and utter agony he stood up, then reeled back when he looked over the edge of the cliff. It was a good three hundred foot drop to the jagged rocks among crashing waves in the tempestuous ocean, and fighting back tears, he leaned against the rock face, sliding down and hugging his knees to his cracked ribs.
Complete is not something you are.
It’s not something you become either, but it’d what we all strive for.
Nothing is ever complete, just pretty close.
You can always do better, so don’t set completion limits for yourself.
being whole. wholeness of oneself. being someone you love. the one that you’ve been waiting for. your one and only missing part..
i want to be complete. you know sometimes i feel complete and sometimes I dont. I wonder if I will ever feel complete all the time. Then I wonder if I already am complete and just dont realize it. Maybe completeness involves feeling uncomplete sometimes.
She did not feel complete yet in her life, and wondered if she would one day, or if she had the power to feel this on her own.
You complete me. That phrase has always annoyed the hell out of me, and I think I know why. It sounds so utterly pathetic. Usually said to one’s lover, boyfriend, girlfriend, spouse, it’s supposed to be sweet and express how important the person is to you. But that doesn’t make it any less pathetic. I, honestly, would slap myself in the face if I ever thought I couldn’t go on living just because someone I love left me.
You complete me? What a weird phrase. I exist within myself, as myself, and not apart of anyone else. I love because it is mine to give away and others seem to have their roots in my heart, but I am a complete being all on my own.
If I do all the things that I dream and wish to do in this life time, and I feel that I have accomplished all i need. Then I will consider my life to be complete.
“Just one more piece,” he soothed, reaching for the thread and needle. “Just one more, and you’ll be done.”
“Complete?” his creature breathed hopefully.
“Yes. And I promise, it won’t be like that book I read you. You will be happy; we both will.”
She stared at the collection of books she wrote. Is her opus complete? She felt she had much more to give to this wonderful world. New, something new!
I need to complete some things. Many things I am sure. Like college. That’s only one thing. Hm. I have completed things before I’m sure of it.
It shall never be complete. I am missing dozens of piece, the ones I do have are warped with the heat of the ages, and I cannot make neighbors fit. I stare down at the puzzle, and to me it is the most pathetic sight in the world. I stare down at the puzzle. It will never be complete.
Something is never complete ’till it’s broken.
It’s this unspoken thought that does not
present itself to the public but is suspect
to misinterpretation.
last night, i was completely convinced i wanted to kill myself. of course, i didn’t, and i don’t want to right now. but last night i really really did. it’s not fair i have to deal with this right now. i’m fourteen and i’m supposed to decide if i want to take an anti-depressant. i’m so incomplete i don’t think it matters one way or another.