if you’re close to falling off the edge, take a few steps back and look forward. look off the edge. what’s down there? will you survive? will it be an adventure? it could be worth it. you could lose everything or gain what you need for a lifetime.
living on the edge, a typical saying in our society. is living on the edge a good or bad mantra to live by? should every decision or experience come down with no planning or thought? is it useful or destructive? what does living on the edge really mean and why is it said so often in our society.
The edge of the cliff is looming to my vision. I walk precariously towards it and glance down, the fall looks to be far. Definitely a deathly fall. I take a deep breath and fall forward closing my eyes to embrace the fall.
Edge. That’s what they say cool people have. But an edge is the side of the paper, or anything. So…what? Are cool people the sides of things? Hm…Cool people are sharp people. So they’re smart?
She stepped close to the edge and looked over. It didn’t really look that far down. She thought she might be able to survive the fall, if she positioned herself so as to land on the hood of the parked car below. Saying a small prayer, she backed up 14 steps, and ran as fast as she could.
It feels like I’m on the edge of the world. It feels like I’m about to fall. No one’s there to save me. It’s like no ones with me anymore. Everything’s fading away. Everyone’s turned against me. I wish you were there to save me…
the edge is a very good cd from the band named pearl jam it has nothing to do with nothing about me but i havo to say i am a bit slow in this keyboard i dont care about you man sorry to hear about it men dont hesitate in calling me right its a matter of life and death like being on the edge, which it is also the nickname of the u2 guitarist i cant remember his name, though he plays quite well
I stepped to the edge of the platform. I looked below at the drop I would soon be making. The edge is what kept me safe, what kept me from descending nearly one hundred feet in just moments, but it is also what I would soon have to cross to face my fears.
The car was parked a few feet back from the fence. I sat on the top of it, holding her hand and looking out. The bright orange sun faded beyond the ocean’s horizon, as a tree next to us cast a long shadow back past the car. I gave her hand one last squeeze, willing all my feeling into that touch, before I let go and jumped.
of a cliff
a long way down
to a dark
unseen
future
hard
cold
dry
edge
the end
the fall
the bottom
the beginning
rising up
the climb
the trial
the error
the start
fuck the edge man! said tom delange to his fat-assed sombitch wife terry. she always was lick the dirt off of the playground like some sort of over manipulative shit cow. no biggie
here i am on the edge thinking of everything that went right.. everything that went wrong.. everything i want so badly to change and everything i’m so glad i can’t change.. and just then.. while i was sitting on the edge i began to realize that what i want to change is indeed in fact what has made what i never want to change unchangeable therefore i have to like it all.
On the edge I see myself floating. All I see are stars. All I hear are the calls around me, the heavy breathing emitting from his beautiful face. I see it, hear it, love it. All around me. “I love you” I breath.
I was walking to the edge of the mountain, with the wind blowing my hair off my shoulder. I breathed in the air, and soaked in every second. This was bliss. This was perfection. His arms around me, holding me so tight as we looked out on the horizon, from this mountain.
I’ve been on the edge of it all since the day I was born. Never completely on one side, never siding with a group or affiliation, just on the edge. I couldn’t be a normal human being, I’m too much of an anomaly to even try, but I’m too normal to have an excuse to be abnormal. I don’t need the pity those people’s eyes turn to those who can’t do it. I could never be one of them, but I could never be with the normals either.
It’s so frustrating, when you’re hanging on a cliff’s edge all my life. Can’t I have some security?
What is it? Its something I’m feeling. I’m on edge.
It’s a sharp keen feeling in the middle of my chest.
Is it crying I’m going to do?
Is it rage I’m going to enact?
I’m on the edge of my life, I’m at the peak of it, a little more time and then it’ll be all gone. This is when my mind will be the sharpest, and yet, knowing that, do I really want to spend my time on it? As ignorant as that sounds, sometimes I don’t want to. I don’t want to be as sharp as the blade, or cut through the cheese that easily. Sometimes I just wanna lay there and do nothing, and just enjoy life. But anxiety makes its way towards me and then in the end, I find myself waiting for something, anguishing over something that isn’t affecting me at the moment, merely in the future.
I think about razors. the edge is something that can be dangerous. i used to cut so that sentence can hold a lot. The edge, nearly everyone is on it or close to it. I like the word. It says excitement. I’m always on the edge . Of what i don’t know.
On the edge he pleaded. For his life. For forgiveness, for her to give him any chance of survival. “funny,” she said condesindenly “how you beg for your life as if it means something. When we both know what you are. A simple waist of oxygen. A simple meaningless organism that only caused pain with your worthless life. Don’t you dare think you don’t deserve this.” “don’t you have a heart!”he began again with his lies” a conscious,a belief that this will come back to you in some…” and she raised her only faithful friend, her gun and pulled that trigger straight faced. Kicked him over the edge of the canyon just to watch him fall. And as soon as she heard him go “splat” she muttered “no, no I do not.”
I’m on the edge. I look down. I see everything. The city, all the lights, cars. I see the humans; happy and innocent. Not so innocent. Look at them. Why do they deserve to be happy? What the fuck am I doing up here? Too late now. I take a step forward. Just. Jump. Just fucking jump.
There’s the edge. It is your choice. I won’t save you. Living is better than dying. You can always improve life but you can’t improve death. Nothing makes death better.
I’m on the edge of glory… but what does that really mean? the woman writing the song is already famous. Isn’t that glory enough? Or does she really think herself so great that she’s about to become a God? what’s up with that? the edge of a cliff more like. She’ll drive herself crazy and jump before long, just like all the other “greats” before her.
the edge of the cliff was too far. i don’t think i could make it all the way down to the bottom if i tried. not that i would. well not anymore. it’s too far down. nope. i changed my mind. i’m going home. home. home. home.
The edge of the cliff is near, and I don’t know whether to jump or not. All the stresses of life are holding me back but I don’t understand what you need from me, and I can’t choose now! I can’t choose now!
The edge of the paper slid lightly across my finger, caressing and cutting all in the same moment. Such a sharp edge, for something so light and powerless. The thin cut begins to turn red as the freed blood races to the surface.
In the beginning, I was somewhere in the middle of the forest. People were everywhere. They littered my thoughts, and I watched my step around them. But in the end, I stood at the edge of the treeline. I looked down upon a great abyss where no one else stood. I was past the point of caring. Nothing mattered, but I made the most of every moment. And that’s when I decided to jump.
The edge of the landing looked over the city and there was nothing more spectacular. The view was enough to make you believe in God. Yet it was God that was going to destroy it all.
I was sitting on the edge of my life waiting for what was to happen next. I realized that was life in itself. The edge. All we ever have is the edge. We just have to decide what happens next. The edge and on…
All my life I have been encouraged to live away from the cliff. Safely, in hiding. Sit behind a desk and look at the edge in old National Geographics and staticy TV channels. Later I decided to go near the edge, to walk along it and laugh at the fall. Then I jumped into glorious free fall and my life has not been the same since.
“‘Cause I’m on the edge of glory!” Lady Gaga belted out on the radio. I, however, wasn’t interested in her nearness to perfection. More distracting was the person sitting in the car next to me, who seemed to be attempting to eat her own foot.
I’m living on the edge. The edge of old age, the edge of good health, the edge of intelligence and the edge of the rest of my live. I want off this edge. I want change.
Living on the edge is dangerous if you don’t know what you’re doing. You should be able to compensate for whichever way you’re going to tip, and also you should be able to keep an eye on what’s on each side. Who knows what’ll happen if you fall? What if there’s a safety net? Or a pit of snakes? Or just emptiness…?
cliff afraid sharp blade sketchy new age racey on razor mountain mad drugs hedge
if you’re close to falling off the edge, take a few steps back and look forward. look off the edge. what’s down there? will you survive? will it be an adventure? it could be worth it. you could lose everything or gain what you need for a lifetime.
living on the edge, a typical saying in our society. is living on the edge a good or bad mantra to live by? should every decision or experience come down with no planning or thought? is it useful or destructive? what does living on the edge really mean and why is it said so often in our society.
The edge of the cliff is looming to my vision. I walk precariously towards it and glance down, the fall looks to be far. Definitely a deathly fall. I take a deep breath and fall forward closing my eyes to embrace the fall.
Edge. That’s what they say cool people have. But an edge is the side of the paper, or anything. So…what? Are cool people the sides of things? Hm…Cool people are sharp people. So they’re smart?
She stepped close to the edge and looked over. It didn’t really look that far down. She thought she might be able to survive the fall, if she positioned herself so as to land on the hood of the parked car below. Saying a small prayer, she backed up 14 steps, and ran as fast as she could.
It feels like I’m on the edge of the world. It feels like I’m about to fall. No one’s there to save me. It’s like no ones with me anymore. Everything’s fading away. Everyone’s turned against me. I wish you were there to save me…
the edge is a very good cd from the band named pearl jam it has nothing to do with nothing about me but i havo to say i am a bit slow in this keyboard i dont care about you man sorry to hear about it men dont hesitate in calling me right its a matter of life and death like being on the edge, which it is also the nickname of the u2 guitarist i cant remember his name, though he plays quite well
I am on the edge of sanity.
I stepped to the edge of the platform. I looked below at the drop I would soon be making. The edge is what kept me safe, what kept me from descending nearly one hundred feet in just moments, but it is also what I would soon have to cross to face my fears.
The car was parked a few feet back from the fence. I sat on the top of it, holding her hand and looking out. The bright orange sun faded beyond the ocean’s horizon, as a tree next to us cast a long shadow back past the car. I gave her hand one last squeeze, willing all my feeling into that touch, before I let go and jumped.
And there he was—
thirty stories high
His hands trembling
His toes gripping the edge
She reached for him—
a moment too late
He fell forward
Floated downward
She told herself,
“This is what he wanted.”
On the edge is where I travel, always have. It’s mystery is comfortable.
of a cliff
a long way down
to a dark
unseen
future
hard
cold
dry
edge
the end
the fall
the bottom
the beginning
rising up
the climb
the trial
the error
the start
I think that I’m not at the “Edge of glory” as Gaga says. Edge is my mom’s van. I don’t want to be at edge of anything specially in my career.
fuck the edge man! said tom delange to his fat-assed sombitch wife terry. she always was lick the dirt off of the playground like some sort of over manipulative shit cow. no biggie
here i am on the edge thinking of everything that went right.. everything that went wrong.. everything i want so badly to change and everything i’m so glad i can’t change.. and just then.. while i was sitting on the edge i began to realize that what i want to change is indeed in fact what has made what i never want to change unchangeable therefore i have to like it all.
On the edge I see myself floating. All I see are stars. All I hear are the calls around me, the heavy breathing emitting from his beautiful face. I see it, hear it, love it. All around me. “I love you” I breath.
There is an edge in the dark. I wince, careful not to cry out. When will he come out? Is Josh going to help me?
I was walking to the edge of the mountain, with the wind blowing my hair off my shoulder. I breathed in the air, and soaked in every second. This was bliss. This was perfection. His arms around me, holding me so tight as we looked out on the horizon, from this mountain.
I’ve been on the edge of it all since the day I was born. Never completely on one side, never siding with a group or affiliation, just on the edge. I couldn’t be a normal human being, I’m too much of an anomaly to even try, but I’m too normal to have an excuse to be abnormal. I don’t need the pity those people’s eyes turn to those who can’t do it. I could never be one of them, but I could never be with the normals either.
It’s so frustrating, when you’re hanging on a cliff’s edge all my life. Can’t I have some security?
I’m close to it.
i’m on the edge of glory and i’m hanging on a moment of truth. out on the edge of glory and i’m hanging on a moment with you.
What is it? Its something I’m feeling. I’m on edge.
It’s a sharp keen feeling in the middle of my chest.
Is it crying I’m going to do?
Is it rage I’m going to enact?
I’m on the edge of my life, I’m at the peak of it, a little more time and then it’ll be all gone. This is when my mind will be the sharpest, and yet, knowing that, do I really want to spend my time on it? As ignorant as that sounds, sometimes I don’t want to. I don’t want to be as sharp as the blade, or cut through the cheese that easily. Sometimes I just wanna lay there and do nothing, and just enjoy life. But anxiety makes its way towards me and then in the end, I find myself waiting for something, anguishing over something that isn’t affecting me at the moment, merely in the future.
I think about razors. the edge is something that can be dangerous. i used to cut so that sentence can hold a lot. The edge, nearly everyone is on it or close to it. I like the word. It says excitement. I’m always on the edge . Of what i don’t know.
On the edge he pleaded. For his life. For forgiveness, for her to give him any chance of survival. “funny,” she said condesindenly “how you beg for your life as if it means something. When we both know what you are. A simple waist of oxygen. A simple meaningless organism that only caused pain with your worthless life. Don’t you dare think you don’t deserve this.” “don’t you have a heart!”he began again with his lies” a conscious,a belief that this will come back to you in some…” and she raised her only faithful friend, her gun and pulled that trigger straight faced. Kicked him over the edge of the canyon just to watch him fall. And as soon as she heard him go “splat” she muttered “no, no I do not.”
I’m on the edge. I look down. I see everything. The city, all the lights, cars. I see the humans; happy and innocent. Not so innocent. Look at them. Why do they deserve to be happy? What the fuck am I doing up here? Too late now. I take a step forward. Just. Jump. Just fucking jump.
There’s the edge. It is your choice. I won’t save you. Living is better than dying. You can always improve life but you can’t improve death. Nothing makes death better.
I’m on the edge of glory… but what does that really mean? the woman writing the song is already famous. Isn’t that glory enough? Or does she really think herself so great that she’s about to become a God? what’s up with that? the edge of a cliff more like. She’ll drive herself crazy and jump before long, just like all the other “greats” before her.
the edge of the cliff was too far. i don’t think i could make it all the way down to the bottom if i tried. not that i would. well not anymore. it’s too far down. nope. i changed my mind. i’m going home. home. home. home.
The edge of the cliff is near, and I don’t know whether to jump or not. All the stresses of life are holding me back but I don’t understand what you need from me, and I can’t choose now! I can’t choose now!
The edge of the paper slid lightly across my finger, caressing and cutting all in the same moment. Such a sharp edge, for something so light and powerless. The thin cut begins to turn red as the freed blood races to the surface.
In the beginning, I was somewhere in the middle of the forest. People were everywhere. They littered my thoughts, and I watched my step around them. But in the end, I stood at the edge of the treeline. I looked down upon a great abyss where no one else stood. I was past the point of caring. Nothing mattered, but I made the most of every moment. And that’s when I decided to jump.
The edge of the landing looked over the city and there was nothing more spectacular. The view was enough to make you believe in God. Yet it was God that was going to destroy it all.
I was sitting on the edge of my life waiting for what was to happen next. I realized that was life in itself. The edge. All we ever have is the edge. We just have to decide what happens next. The edge and on…
All my life I have been encouraged to live away from the cliff. Safely, in hiding. Sit behind a desk and look at the edge in old National Geographics and staticy TV channels. Later I decided to go near the edge, to walk along it and laugh at the fall. Then I jumped into glorious free fall and my life has not been the same since.
“‘Cause I’m on the edge of glory!” Lady Gaga belted out on the radio. I, however, wasn’t interested in her nearness to perfection. More distracting was the person sitting in the car next to me, who seemed to be attempting to eat her own foot.
I’m living on the edge. The edge of old age, the edge of good health, the edge of intelligence and the edge of the rest of my live. I want off this edge. I want change.
Living on the edge is dangerous if you don’t know what you’re doing. You should be able to compensate for whichever way you’re going to tip, and also you should be able to keep an eye on what’s on each side. Who knows what’ll happen if you fall? What if there’s a safety net? Or a pit of snakes? Or just emptiness…?