my biggest fear
i feel forgotten
i am rejected
i dont want to feel like that
i want to be remembered
i have spent a lot of tears feeling forgotten
i dont want to cry no more
i want her back
not usually a verb, but a title given to someone who is more than just not on your mind, but lost, wayward, marginalized, and alone. but, not really forgotten. the really Forgotten have ceased to exist and cannot garner notice. no, these are the underdogs who have our sympathy and who are soon to be widely remembered. the exiles must come home.
I left it somewhere, where i don’t know. Left behind something. A fridge, a flower pot. I’d forgotten but i’d not lost. It was somewhere. It was around. I just didn’t know where.
She leaned into the window watching the little patch of fog growing and receding near her open mouth. “Goodbye,” she breathed, watching the soft edge of her sorrow spread and beg for just one more drawn and forgotten heart.
I’d forgotten my keys. Again. I just stood there, staring impotently at the front door. Then, after briefly musing on the possiblity of surgically attaching my house keys to my hip, I rolled up my sleeves and began climbing to the second story window.
I had forgotten that i ever lived in a place like this. it was forgotten, like i had forgotten. Everything was forgotten here, all traces of everything was gone; forgotten. Would anything mean ANYTHING anymore? What had happened to this forgotten place called Earth?
In the end, Jack agreed to leave. But before he left, he was sure to leave a parting gift. Once Alex returned to his home and found the bloody message, Jack knew that it would shake the older man to his very core. Jack may have agreed to leave, but there was no way he’d ever be forgotten.
i forgot to do a lot of things, well rather than forget i choose not to. like the past couple nights i decided not to brush my teeth nasty i know but im drunk and tired and ready to just ptfo. well thats a pretty lame excuse, and sure doesnt hold up the morning after,
what is happening. so much time is lost and in that time so much is forgotten. if we were to remember what we have lost, life would be simpler and easier, more colourful and bright. however more terrifying at the same time
its like when you cant remember something anymore, its gone but still there, but it could actually be gone but you dont know because thats it, its finished.
vegemite is a new thing i would like to call a thing of the past. new and improved i believe it does not have to catch your attention yet enhance it. other than that its great. and i approve.
One time at band camp. That had nothing to do with being forgotten. I have forgotten why I typed that. See what I did there? Yeah. You probably didn’t. I’m not gonna explain that. Also mexicans forget stuff but
i had forgotten everything and anything, my mind as a wooden box emptied just a few seconds before, i had been stolen, stolen somethimng i would never get back.
There was a boy and a girl, one day the boy moved away and the girl stayed behind. Wondering if she would be forgotten. A few days later the boy came back, he had forgotten the reason for his existence.
i was walking down the hall and i saw someone and said hey wats up and they asked who i was and i was all like im your best friend?? your dont remember me im bdawg? ”nope not a clue who you are please go away.” i made a new bbbbbff
We were friends for eleven years. You got a boyfriend. Now I’m forgotten. One day he’ll forget you and you’ll feel forgotten. Then you’ll see how I feel right now. I miss being your best friend, I hope you know. I miss you so much.
what does it mean to be forgotten? When all is said and done should what you do have an impact on the world and will anyone even care if you vanished tomorrow? Maybe.
yesterday i went to work and forgot my dentures in my car. It was a formidable challenge to finish my day with those around me laughing and smiling at my lack of enamel in my silly looking mouth.
She rummaged around, with a crooked walk, tripping over her own two feet. Her curly hair bounced back and fourth and her face was marked with pure confusion. I knew I was going to love her for the rest of my life.
“David…David, have you see my pen?”
I smiled from ear to ear.
“I looked everywhere, and I really like THIS particular pen.”
She had looked everywhere. The desk, the book shelf, the drawers…
“Venus, look,” I reached gently behind her ear and pulled out her PILOT G-2 07, “It evades you like an escape artist.”
Her cheeks flushed.
“Thanks. I’d forgotten that I’d…I’d….Thank you.”
i am forgotten. invisible. unknown. the part of me that you see isnt here. i am all alone. who am i? where am i? who knows. the endless memories are just gone. nothing there. forgotten.
I had forgotten everything he ever told me. Of the future he promised and the past that i wasn’t suppose to remember. Yet he left me here and alone, on the marble of our home. The thirst of blood consumed me and I let out a strangled cry.
Die vergess’nen Kinder. Sind wir selbst das nicht vielleicht? Wer fragt uns denn heute, wie wir hätten sein können, wenn die damals Großen nicht lauter solchen Mist mit uns gemacht hätten? Suggestive Sprüche, “wie oft habe ich dir schon gesagt, du sollst nicht …” …
I stare down at the faded photograph, at that young girl with the care free smile and the wind whipping her hair around her face, me. I am smiling at the boy sitting on the wall next to me. I look so happy, I look like I wouldn’t give him up for the world.
Why can’t I remember him?
It lay forgotten. The little stuffed animal in the road with it’s button eyes and soft fur. He was well-loved, it was obvious to anybody who took notice, but today was different. The soft rain fell gently, causing the air to change. The sirens were blaring, people rushing towards the road median. And in that moment, the bear knew that the limp little girl in the crushed car would never hug him again.
I’ve never forgotten anyone’s birthday. Actually that’s not true at all. I’m sure I must have forgotten someone, but that person must not have been very important to me in the first place. I guess the lesson here is, if someone forgets my birthday then I guess I’m not very important to them either.
As she sat staring at her feet, wondering how she would stave off the newest round of starvation, twenty bucks sat muffled at the bottom of her knapsack. It wasn’t money justly earned, but given freely by another beggar who knew he was better off. She hadn’t forgotten about it. She was merely unaware of its existence.
He looked at the old photos and wondered how much he had forgotten. The memories seemed so clear, but were they just stories he built around these images, or did he actually remember them? What happened right before, what happened right after?
my biggest fear
i feel forgotten
i am rejected
i dont want to feel like that
i want to be remembered
i have spent a lot of tears feeling forgotten
i dont want to cry no more
i want her back
my biggest fear
i feel forgotten by her
i feel rejected
i dont want to feel like that
not usually a verb, but a title given to someone who is more than just not on your mind, but lost, wayward, marginalized, and alone. but, not really forgotten. the really Forgotten have ceased to exist and cannot garner notice. no, these are the underdogs who have our sympathy and who are soon to be widely remembered. the exiles must come home.
I left it somewhere, where i don’t know. Left behind something. A fridge, a flower pot. I’d forgotten but i’d not lost. It was somewhere. It was around. I just didn’t know where.
She leaned into the window watching the little patch of fog growing and receding near her open mouth. “Goodbye,” she breathed, watching the soft edge of her sorrow spread and beg for just one more drawn and forgotten heart.
I’d forgotten my keys. Again. I just stood there, staring impotently at the front door. Then, after briefly musing on the possiblity of surgically attaching my house keys to my hip, I rolled up my sleeves and began climbing to the second story window.
I had forgotten that i ever lived in a place like this. it was forgotten, like i had forgotten. Everything was forgotten here, all traces of everything was gone; forgotten. Would anything mean ANYTHING anymore? What had happened to this forgotten place called Earth?
In the end, Jack agreed to leave. But before he left, he was sure to leave a parting gift. Once Alex returned to his home and found the bloody message, Jack knew that it would shake the older man to his very core. Jack may have agreed to leave, but there was no way he’d ever be forgotten.
The forgotten roads wind over themselves.
i forgot to do a lot of things, well rather than forget i choose not to. like the past couple nights i decided not to brush my teeth nasty i know but im drunk and tired and ready to just ptfo. well thats a pretty lame excuse, and sure doesnt hold up the morning after,
what is happening. so much time is lost and in that time so much is forgotten. if we were to remember what we have lost, life would be simpler and easier, more colourful and bright. however more terrifying at the same time
its like when you cant remember something anymore, its gone but still there, but it could actually be gone but you dont know because thats it, its finished.
vegemite is a new thing i would like to call a thing of the past. new and improved i believe it does not have to catch your attention yet enhance it. other than that its great. and i approve.
forgotten love. forgotten shoes, misplaced items lying on the ground, abandoned. toys in toy story 3, sitting under a dusty bed, unplayed with
One time at band camp. That had nothing to do with being forgotten. I have forgotten why I typed that. See what I did there? Yeah. You probably didn’t. I’m not gonna explain that. Also mexicans forget stuff but
I’d forgotten her name. Typical, I thought. Not just of me, but of her too. She was, after all, just as forgettable as the others…
i had forgotten everything and anything, my mind as a wooden box emptied just a few seconds before, i had been stolen, stolen somethimng i would never get back.
There was a boy and a girl, one day the boy moved away and the girl stayed behind. Wondering if she would be forgotten. A few days later the boy came back, he had forgotten the reason for his existence.
i was walking down the hall and i saw someone and said hey wats up and they asked who i was and i was all like im your best friend?? your dont remember me im bdawg? ”nope not a clue who you are please go away.” i made a new bbbbbff
forgotten. lonely. useless. it seems that all i am are pointless words. meaningless to society.
I can’t do this word because I’ve already…what was it again? It’s right on the tip of my tongue…
forgotten so soon. like the day you left me waiting in the rain
We were friends for eleven years. You got a boyfriend. Now I’m forgotten. One day he’ll forget you and you’ll feel forgotten. Then you’ll see how I feel right now. I miss being your best friend, I hope you know. I miss you so much.
what does it mean to be forgotten? When all is said and done should what you do have an impact on the world and will anyone even care if you vanished tomorrow? Maybe.
yesterday i went to work and forgot my dentures in my car. It was a formidable challenge to finish my day with those around me laughing and smiling at my lack of enamel in my silly looking mouth.
She rummaged around, with a crooked walk, tripping over her own two feet. Her curly hair bounced back and fourth and her face was marked with pure confusion. I knew I was going to love her for the rest of my life.
“David…David, have you see my pen?”
I smiled from ear to ear.
“I looked everywhere, and I really like THIS particular pen.”
She had looked everywhere. The desk, the book shelf, the drawers…
“Venus, look,” I reached gently behind her ear and pulled out her PILOT G-2 07, “It evades you like an escape artist.”
Her cheeks flushed.
“Thanks. I’d forgotten that I’d…I’d….Thank you.”
ways forgotten. paths forgotten. history, memory. all gone. never to be seen. bulldozed over, covered in dust and vines and the like.
our long lost friends… our parents… are they forgotten because they are away or long gone? I believe not.
sad past loneliness old age illness left behind move on peace of mind serenity barren scorched dark tears
i am forgotten. invisible. unknown. the part of me that you see isnt here. i am all alone. who am i? where am i? who knows. the endless memories are just gone. nothing there. forgotten.
I had forgotten everything he ever told me. Of the future he promised and the past that i wasn’t suppose to remember. Yet he left me here and alone, on the marble of our home. The thirst of blood consumed me and I let out a strangled cry.
Die vergess’nen Kinder. Sind wir selbst das nicht vielleicht? Wer fragt uns denn heute, wie wir hätten sein können, wenn die damals Großen nicht lauter solchen Mist mit uns gemacht hätten? Suggestive Sprüche, “wie oft habe ich dir schon gesagt, du sollst nicht …” …
I stare down at the faded photograph, at that young girl with the care free smile and the wind whipping her hair around her face, me. I am smiling at the boy sitting on the wall next to me. I look so happy, I look like I wouldn’t give him up for the world.
Why can’t I remember him?
You looked at me like you had forgotten all the time we spent together. You meant everything to me. I guess I didn’t mean anything to you.
the piece was forgotten…swept up with the candy wrappers and orange peels that littered the tile floor.
It lay forgotten. The little stuffed animal in the road with it’s button eyes and soft fur. He was well-loved, it was obvious to anybody who took notice, but today was different. The soft rain fell gently, causing the air to change. The sirens were blaring, people rushing towards the road median. And in that moment, the bear knew that the limp little girl in the crushed car would never hug him again.
I’ve never forgotten anyone’s birthday. Actually that’s not true at all. I’m sure I must have forgotten someone, but that person must not have been very important to me in the first place. I guess the lesson here is, if someone forgets my birthday then I guess I’m not very important to them either.
As she sat staring at her feet, wondering how she would stave off the newest round of starvation, twenty bucks sat muffled at the bottom of her knapsack. It wasn’t money justly earned, but given freely by another beggar who knew he was better off. She hadn’t forgotten about it. She was merely unaware of its existence.
i forget a shitload of thing but the keys are in the past, need to think back more and remember, to unlock the future.
He looked at the old photos and wondered how much he had forgotten. The memories seemed so clear, but were they just stories he built around these images, or did he actually remember them? What happened right before, what happened right after?