well this is unexpected the floor can creak and make noises there use to be a hollow sounding floor piece so i use to think there was treasure under there. i sit on the floor a lot. i dont know how much i need to relate to the topic. im in class.
I love sad music. I love laying down and hearing these boys sing of loss and heartbreak. I love feeling seen and heard from another. Honestly I don’t want to be sad anymore but sometimes I still feel like that’s all I am. It is ingrained into my spirit. Sadness. Who am I without my depression? It’s half my personality/my jokes.
She felt a cool rush of air between the cracks. “That’s not good.”
“What?”
“There’s air coming through the floorboards.”
“Ugh, you’re joking,” he groaned, up to his elbows in soapy water.
“Nope. We’ll figure it out,” she assured him.
Floorboards. They’re funny things, you know? They’re not something you think about. You walk across them. Some are light, some dark. They support us. But you never think about the secrets they may hide beneath. Surely you were one of those kids? The one who hid those secret CDs under the loose board in your room?
Those revolutionary, fascinating things to be found in the middle of the floor. I’m serious. they just sit there, smack dab in the middle of the floor. it’s almost like it’s part of the floor of something. Weird, huh?
How much can you hear through the floorboards of the house? Could you hear me laughing when talking with other people? Can you hear my thoughts? The pedestal that propped you up seems to have fallen, and now I can think of your name without adoring you on high.
Unlike the ceiling, which was uneven and water-stained, the crowning dull with smoke and dust, crumbling in the corners, the floorboards appeared brand new. Sleek teak, brightly waxed and shining.
If these floorboards could talk, they would still just creak and crack and bounce with your movement anyway. They have spent decades underneath your feet and they are tired of all the crap that you track in and all over them. All our feet do is get bigger and heavier and the floorboards are tired of holding us up as we stomp around like apes. So, in their old age they protest each and every one of our steps, reminding us that without them there wouldn’t even be a damn floor to get dirt on.
If these floorboards could talk, they would still just creak and crack and bounce with your movement anyway. They have spent decades underneath your feet and they are tired of all the crap that you track in and across them. All our feet do is get bigger and heavier and the floorboards are tired of holding you up. So in their old age they protest each and every one of your steps, reminding you that without them there wouldn’t even be a damn floor to get dirt on.
I felt my thought move through the floorboards. They wanted to make it to my mouth my my lips couldn’t form the words. Stuck, beneath wood and nail. Shifting but staying stagnate in their truth. They want me to tell you that I love you but I can’t even get myself to tell you that I like you. Complex
i dance to the delicate song of floorboards creaking underneath my feet. hypnotic creaks and groans lead my body in a dance that is as bold as fire. join me on this floorboard slow dance. lets supernova out of existence
WE HAVE many floorboards in our house. i hope everyone has floorboards in their house. IT iks necissary to have floorboards in a house. OUr floorboards are 4×4. What size and length is your floor boards?????
I hope someday something inspires me to dismantle the floorboards beneath my feet and hide something precious down there; even better if I find something precious. There must be a lot of good bits of debris, or at least it will be peaceful.
there’s a melancholy in this hall, like all of the students that ever been here were lingering faintly like kind ghosts peering out of the shadows. a faint breeze picks up the heavy curtains and sends them swishing over the glass, and i walk slowly up to the stage. not long ago, i had been up there, mcing an event with all the nonchalance in the world; and yet now the floorboards creak under my feet and the lights are off, and i feel even the hall itself is not ready to go.
i supposed that’s what happened when things are deemed old and needing repair.
I knew that he was alive somewhere. Alive, heart still beating, intact – not in pieces like that blasted “Tell-Tale Heart” by Poe. Still, if I had to be like that denying mad protagonist, I would be. I’d rip up the floorboards myself, stretch the skin along my cuticles, rip out the nails and keratin that were my only bridges to sanity.
One of these days I will find out what exactly is the family secret that it is inside my house. For some reason my parents never allows my sisters and around the floorboards in my grandmother’s room. Ever since she left to go visit a foreign country, they don’t allow anyone to set foot in there. I don’t understand why. All that I want to do is to get the scarf that’s on her bed.
The floorboards were ancient from the 1700’s. They creaked with people’s movement across it and termites had eaten parts of the wood. However, it was the most distinct part of the home because it was unique and valuable. They were a faded black color
what will happen if we stopped spending money on a brand, the company will die and what that means are the company’s budget will starting to go down, and if is a clothes brand such as gucci, it will eventually be cloesd up, cause nobody is buying their stuff anymore. and they can’t realase the thing that they have in store, so basically at the end they’ll just lower the price and sell it.
floorboard creaks when I lurch forwards for the open doorway, it sucks upward with my feet. It will be impossible to replace.
well this is unexpected the floor can creak and make noises there use to be a hollow sounding floor piece so i use to think there was treasure under there. i sit on the floor a lot. i dont know how much i need to relate to the topic. im in class.
I love sad music. I love laying down and hearing these boys sing of loss and heartbreak. I love feeling seen and heard from another. Honestly I don’t want to be sad anymore but sometimes I still feel like that’s all I am. It is ingrained into my spirit. Sadness. Who am I without my depression? It’s half my personality/my jokes.
She felt a cool rush of air between the cracks. “That’s not good.”
“What?”
“There’s air coming through the floorboards.”
“Ugh, you’re joking,” he groaned, up to his elbows in soapy water.
“Nope. We’ll figure it out,” she assured him.
Floorboards. They’re funny things, you know? They’re not something you think about. You walk across them. Some are light, some dark. They support us. But you never think about the secrets they may hide beneath. Surely you were one of those kids? The one who hid those secret CDs under the loose board in your room?
Those revolutionary, fascinating things to be found in the middle of the floor. I’m serious. they just sit there, smack dab in the middle of the floor. it’s almost like it’s part of the floor of something. Weird, huh?
How much can you hear through the floorboards of the house? Could you hear me laughing when talking with other people? Can you hear my thoughts? The pedestal that propped you up seems to have fallen, and now I can think of your name without adoring you on high.
Floorboards are a wooden plank that hook together to make a floor.
Unlike the ceiling, which was uneven and water-stained, the crowning dull with smoke and dust, crumbling in the corners, the floorboards appeared brand new. Sleek teak, brightly waxed and shining.
If these floorboards could talk, they would still just creak and crack and bounce with your movement anyway. They have spent decades underneath your feet and they are tired of all the crap that you track in and all over them. All our feet do is get bigger and heavier and the floorboards are tired of holding us up as we stomp around like apes. So, in their old age they protest each and every one of our steps, reminding us that without them there wouldn’t even be a damn floor to get dirt on.
If these floorboards could talk, they would still just creak and crack and bounce with your movement anyway. They have spent decades underneath your feet and they are tired of all the crap that you track in and across them. All our feet do is get bigger and heavier and the floorboards are tired of holding you up. So in their old age they protest each and every one of your steps, reminding you that without them there wouldn’t even be a damn floor to get dirt on.
I felt my thought move through the floorboards. They wanted to make it to my mouth my my lips couldn’t form the words. Stuck, beneath wood and nail. Shifting but staying stagnate in their truth. They want me to tell you that I love you but I can’t even get myself to tell you that I like you. Complex
i dance to the delicate song of floorboards creaking underneath my feet. hypnotic creaks and groans lead my body in a dance that is as bold as fire. join me on this floorboard slow dance. lets supernova out of existence
the floorboards are creeky sometimes and it can be annoying to deal with but most of the boards don’t make any noise at all
WE HAVE many floorboards in our house. i hope everyone has floorboards in their house. IT iks necissary to have floorboards in a house. OUr floorboards are 4×4. What size and length is your floor boards?????
I hope someday something inspires me to dismantle the floorboards beneath my feet and hide something precious down there; even better if I find something precious. There must be a lot of good bits of debris, or at least it will be peaceful.
there’s a melancholy in this hall, like all of the students that ever been here were lingering faintly like kind ghosts peering out of the shadows. a faint breeze picks up the heavy curtains and sends them swishing over the glass, and i walk slowly up to the stage. not long ago, i had been up there, mcing an event with all the nonchalance in the world; and yet now the floorboards creak under my feet and the lights are off, and i feel even the hall itself is not ready to go.
i supposed that’s what happened when things are deemed old and needing repair.
I knew that he was alive somewhere. Alive, heart still beating, intact – not in pieces like that blasted “Tell-Tale Heart” by Poe. Still, if I had to be like that denying mad protagonist, I would be. I’d rip up the floorboards myself, stretch the skin along my cuticles, rip out the nails and keratin that were my only bridges to sanity.
One of these days I will find out what exactly is the family secret that it is inside my house. For some reason my parents never allows my sisters and around the floorboards in my grandmother’s room. Ever since she left to go visit a foreign country, they don’t allow anyone to set foot in there. I don’t understand why. All that I want to do is to get the scarf that’s on her bed.
The floorboards were ancient from the 1700’s. They creaked with people’s movement across it and termites had eaten parts of the wood. However, it was the most distinct part of the home because it was unique and valuable. They were a faded black color
We need new floorboards and walls and beds for the kids bedroom but the master bedroom only needs floorboards and a new bed so we’ll be okay.
The floorboards are coming off the ship and we cant do anything about and we need to fix it before we sink we will surely die and not make it home.
what will happen if we stopped spending money on a brand, the company will die and what that means are the company’s budget will starting to go down, and if is a clothes brand such as gucci, it will eventually be cloesd up, cause nobody is buying their stuff anymore. and they can’t realase the thing that they have in store, so basically at the end they’ll just lower the price and sell it.