MY fear of life is built by the people who taught me how to live, and made me fear the unknown. I am not who you think I am. I am not what you want me to become.
I fabricated this new invention that stands to reason I am a professional inventor. I’m awesome at fabricating things. The most awesome in the entire world.
It was a long time ago. I didn’t realize I would fabricate such an enormous lie but in fact it came about. I think it all starts when a little white lie is told and then it leads to another. The first fabrication was a tad deceiving, even to the creator of such untruth.
I have fabricated a lie. I do not wish to tell you how I came about this lie, however the lie itself is a very important tale. I was thinking I should trick my mother into believing my husband and I were going to have another baby. We fabricated a lie about just that. We wrote “Baby Richard” on an Easter egg.
it’s something made, made up, not always real, sometimes it’s just a lie or a story, sometimes it’s just something simple, like a handmade bow on a present. it’s a quilt, a story, and long story with short thoughts. it’s not much, but it’s everything, because it’s made of little pieces of fabric.
I have falsified my life
Fabricated the identity I claim
Showcasing everything that isn’t me to protect what is.
I don’t know what I’m hiding.
I only know it’s hidden and stuffed far enough away that I can’t find it now.
It aches at the core of who I am.
Pulling and depressing a spirit meant only to fly with the best.
I deny my own success because I willingly fabricate my life.
The reality was fabricated; not real. It didn’t even look real, everything was plastic, fake, unmoving and emotionless. It was dull. We wanted out.
So out we went.
We lived in a small house by a beautiful hill, where you can see the adoring view and feel the fresh hair caressing your face. Our small house consists of me, you, our 4 dogs, and our loving parents. Every morning we’d go outside and play; we’d pretend to be explorers in a vast mission to discover hidden temples and artifacts. We’d enjoy ourselves without worries of any kind.
The footprints were fabricated, or so some people thought. There wasn’t enough evidence to support the theories of something half-human in the woods, but there were plenty of tales by the local townsfolk to make it seem that there was a legendary creature amongst them, prowling the local forests and making the dogs of the town howl with exasperation.
The law was fabricated to make it seem that the people had done something wrong, that the town itself was of a guilty gut feeling and to take the blame away from those that only passed through it. There was no time for drama or exasperation, but only anger at those who were seen as the offending party.
i fabricated a lie about the how the industrial revolution was the pinnacle of the 18th century. thats because it wasn’t. she believed me anyway because she is rather ignorant of such matters and has no clue about the affairs of history unless it regards what happened in “The Hills” last night.
Things are fabricated out of thin air sometimes. It’s when something did not exist and then it just does, so it’s fabricated. It’s a real life, 3-d thing. Or you make something up. Fabricated.
The tailor just didn’t get it. Half the material was to be used as a skirt, and the other half to be used as a blouse. Instead, he was going around in circles with the fabricated drape, confused at such a simple request.
she fabricated a story so they would accept her into their club. she had never assembled a model dinosaur before, but how would they know? to her, it involved nothing more than connecting the pieces listed in the instruction book. there *is* an instruction book, isn’t there?!?
The story she fabricated was full of bright words used perfectly. The way she writes makes you feel filled with hope that this life is worth living. The encouragement she gives is unending.
The officer slammed his fist on the table in frustration. How could he have trusted that crook? He mixed his emotions with business and got his just desserts.
That bastard fabricated his statement and fled the country.
The truth is fabricated all too often. Why can’t we just be truthful? Yes, the truth may hurt, but I would much rather deal with that than some bullshit story to make myself feel better, even though it’s not the reality of it all.
Fabricated a life
Caught in plasti wrapping
A safe guard for wounded parts
Fabricated lives and lies
Telltale signs
Machinery and body parts
Slung over rails
Is this the making of a heavy
Human soul
“Oh stop it!” The younger girl stomped her foot as her sister yelled. “We know you’ve just fabricated it all!”
“I did not!” She replied, fists at her side. “There really was oranges the side of my head, and apples as small as a pea! And cats had wings, and horses had unicorn horns and everything was bright and colorful!”
It was a web of lies that I built up. I felt like a spider, carefully sculpting a structure around me to trap others. The only problem was, it was trapping me too. I felt like that spider in the hands of an arachnophobe, being flushed down the plughole and I couldn’t escape.
The design was complicated, and took much care to be made. She’d mulled it over a hundred times before recounting how she’d come to be Mrs. Beverly Jacobs. Every graceful handshake, and bat of the eye was carefully executed. Her elaborate lie was fool-proof.
i fabricated the truth a bit. i said i loved a little harder than i did–but you needed that. you needed to feel like you mattered more—like there was a realm that existed beyond flattery. that there was something solid and tried and true and infinite in the world. that truth gave you hope.
A fabricated sense of happiness can eventually lead to the real thing. Studies show that even pretending to be in a good mood can lead to real feelings of contentment and pleasure – so next time you are in a bad mood, just try and smile and be grateful for what’s good in your life.
The lives of everyone, and i mean EVERYONE around me, seem so fabricated. maybe its just the fact that they have WAYYY too many parties to seem legit, or maybe that they are way more focused on what happened just to recount it as a tale, but I cannot fathom their lives as anything other than fabrications of their mind, deluding them with their own worldliness, all in a race to be the one with the craziest tale. when will they learn to just live in every moment?
“How the fuck would you like it? You fabricate me acting like a princess, but it’s bullshit! I’m the bottom of the heap. I’m not even a warrior. All I am is a fucking slag!”
“This world is a fabrication,” she said. We stood in the snow and stared at the sky from the lakes edge, we couldn’t see anything in front of us and that’s how we loved it. “It’s a fabrication intended to keep us sane. A fabrication to cover up what we really are, because we’re all players in a drama. All masked. A severe game of peek-a-boo and no one’s got a clue.”
When we thought that all was well with the criminal situation in our community, we have now to weigh in on the report that the evidence that was laid against the two most wanted criminals were not only fabricated, but that the victims might be also involve in the matter as well.
He had fabricated every lie in the book to cover for him. On Tuesday, he had been riding. On Wednesday, he was at friend’s. On Thursday, he was ill from overexerting himself. If he was not dead already, the elf swore he would kill him.
Jonas had fabricated some amazing tools. He was however deeply disapointed by them, as if a new chair wasn’t enough or if his desk was going to bite him immediatly. That wasn’t his favorite sport. At all. That’s why he started to feel dizzy.
Lies and truth, weaving out in a paradox of color. A life being fabricated. Pieces of apathy and love sewn together into a harmonious flowing texture of thought and being.
It was all fake. Nothing of his was real. Just created to the finest of qualities, in the hopes he wouldn’t catch on. His friends, his family, his ideas, his memory. They were all just lies. What kept him up at night, was wondering if he was one too.
MY fear of life is built by the people who taught me how to live, and made me fear the unknown. I am not who you think I am. I am not what you want me to become.
just gotsome new soap. Fabricated it all my laundry to be nice and soft. real fun to feel it right out of the dryer
Fabricated means an object created out the thing you wil use
If reality is fabricated, is reality considered real?
I fabricated this new invention that stands to reason I am a professional inventor. I’m awesome at fabricating things. The most awesome in the entire world.
It was a long time ago. I didn’t realize I would fabricate such an enormous lie but in fact it came about. I think it all starts when a little white lie is told and then it leads to another. The first fabrication was a tad deceiving, even to the creator of such untruth.
I have fabricated a lie. I do not wish to tell you how I came about this lie, however the lie itself is a very important tale. I was thinking I should trick my mother into believing my husband and I were going to have another baby. We fabricated a lie about just that. We wrote “Baby Richard” on an Easter egg.
it’s something made, made up, not always real, sometimes it’s just a lie or a story, sometimes it’s just something simple, like a handmade bow on a present. it’s a quilt, a story, and long story with short thoughts. it’s not much, but it’s everything, because it’s made of little pieces of fabric.
I have falsified my life
Fabricated the identity I claim
Showcasing everything that isn’t me to protect what is.
I don’t know what I’m hiding.
I only know it’s hidden and stuffed far enough away that I can’t find it now.
It aches at the core of who I am.
Pulling and depressing a spirit meant only to fly with the best.
I deny my own success because I willingly fabricate my life.
The reality was fabricated; not real. It didn’t even look real, everything was plastic, fake, unmoving and emotionless. It was dull. We wanted out.
So out we went.
We lived in a small house by a beautiful hill, where you can see the adoring view and feel the fresh hair caressing your face. Our small house consists of me, you, our 4 dogs, and our loving parents. Every morning we’d go outside and play; we’d pretend to be explorers in a vast mission to discover hidden temples and artifacts. We’d enjoy ourselves without worries of any kind.
This was the world I fabricated for us.
The footprints were fabricated, or so some people thought. There wasn’t enough evidence to support the theories of something half-human in the woods, but there were plenty of tales by the local townsfolk to make it seem that there was a legendary creature amongst them, prowling the local forests and making the dogs of the town howl with exasperation.
The law was fabricated to make it seem that the people had done something wrong, that the town itself was of a guilty gut feeling and to take the blame away from those that only passed through it. There was no time for drama or exasperation, but only anger at those who were seen as the offending party.
I have no idea whatsoever what this word means. I need to go get a dictionary.
i fabricated a lie about the how the industrial revolution was the pinnacle of the 18th century. thats because it wasn’t. she believed me anyway because she is rather ignorant of such matters and has no clue about the affairs of history unless it regards what happened in “The Hills” last night.
Things are fabricated out of thin air sometimes. It’s when something did not exist and then it just does, so it’s fabricated. It’s a real life, 3-d thing. Or you make something up. Fabricated.
I fabricated the story to make it seem more alive. No not fabricate just added to it. Melanie would be pleased.
The tailor just didn’t get it. Half the material was to be used as a skirt, and the other half to be used as a blouse. Instead, he was going around in circles with the fabricated drape, confused at such a simple request.
she fabricated a story so they would accept her into their club. she had never assembled a model dinosaur before, but how would they know? to her, it involved nothing more than connecting the pieces listed in the instruction book. there *is* an instruction book, isn’t there?!?
The story she fabricated was full of bright words used perfectly. The way she writes makes you feel filled with hope that this life is worth living. The encouragement she gives is unending.
The officer slammed his fist on the table in frustration. How could he have trusted that crook? He mixed his emotions with business and got his just desserts.
That bastard fabricated his statement and fled the country.
The truth is fabricated all too often. Why can’t we just be truthful? Yes, the truth may hurt, but I would much rather deal with that than some bullshit story to make myself feel better, even though it’s not the reality of it all.
Fabricated a life
Caught in plasti wrapping
A safe guard for wounded parts
Fabricated lives and lies
Telltale signs
Machinery and body parts
Slung over rails
Is this the making of a heavy
Human soul
“Oh stop it!” The younger girl stomped her foot as her sister yelled. “We know you’ve just fabricated it all!”
“I did not!” She replied, fists at her side. “There really was oranges the side of my head, and apples as small as a pea! And cats had wings, and horses had unicorn horns and everything was bright and colorful!”
Basically reminds me of dubstep. Like the song “Fabrication” by Emalkay. Also Fabric London and Fabriclive mixes done by techno artists.
It was a web of lies that I built up. I felt like a spider, carefully sculpting a structure around me to trap others. The only problem was, it was trapping me too. I felt like that spider in the hands of an arachnophobe, being flushed down the plughole and I couldn’t escape.
The design was complicated, and took much care to be made. She’d mulled it over a hundred times before recounting how she’d come to be Mrs. Beverly Jacobs. Every graceful handshake, and bat of the eye was carefully executed. Her elaborate lie was fool-proof.
Fabricated, made up,
A spiral of lies.
Falling deeper,
Never-ending.
Clothing?
No. Not ever.
A different perspective.
It’s just made up.
Upside down
i fabricated the truth a bit. i said i loved a little harder than i did–but you needed that. you needed to feel like you mattered more—like there was a realm that existed beyond flattery. that there was something solid and tried and true and infinite in the world. that truth gave you hope.
A fabricated sense of happiness can eventually lead to the real thing. Studies show that even pretending to be in a good mood can lead to real feelings of contentment and pleasure – so next time you are in a bad mood, just try and smile and be grateful for what’s good in your life.
The lives of everyone, and i mean EVERYONE around me, seem so fabricated. maybe its just the fact that they have WAYYY too many parties to seem legit, or maybe that they are way more focused on what happened just to recount it as a tale, but I cannot fathom their lives as anything other than fabrications of their mind, deluding them with their own worldliness, all in a race to be the one with the craziest tale. when will they learn to just live in every moment?
“How the fuck would you like it? You fabricate me acting like a princess, but it’s bullshit! I’m the bottom of the heap. I’m not even a warrior. All I am is a fucking slag!”
“Got that right,” muttered Orion.
i’m so restless right now. i want to escape these fabricated faces, this fabricated way, that seems to have been made on the conveyor
Evil Mr. Finortent fabricated a powerful draught for mixing in his mother’s medicine.
“This world is a fabrication,” she said. We stood in the snow and stared at the sky from the lakes edge, we couldn’t see anything in front of us and that’s how we loved it. “It’s a fabrication intended to keep us sane. A fabrication to cover up what we really are, because we’re all players in a drama. All masked. A severe game of peek-a-boo and no one’s got a clue.”
When we thought that all was well with the criminal situation in our community, we have now to weigh in on the report that the evidence that was laid against the two most wanted criminals were not only fabricated, but that the victims might be also involve in the matter as well.
He had fabricated every lie in the book to cover for him. On Tuesday, he had been riding. On Wednesday, he was at friend’s. On Thursday, he was ill from overexerting himself. If he was not dead already, the elf swore he would kill him.
Jonas had fabricated some amazing tools. He was however deeply disapointed by them, as if a new chair wasn’t enough or if his desk was going to bite him immediatly. That wasn’t his favorite sport. At all. That’s why he started to feel dizzy.
Lies and truth, weaving out in a paradox of color. A life being fabricated. Pieces of apathy and love sewn together into a harmonious flowing texture of thought and being.
It was all fake. Nothing of his was real. Just created to the finest of qualities, in the hopes he wouldn’t catch on. His friends, his family, his ideas, his memory. They were all just lies. What kept him up at night, was wondering if he was one too.