I am always incomplete. I think I have found all of the pieces of my being, and that I am finished, but there is always a piece that is missing. Even if I find that piece, there is still going to be another one somewhere missing. I will never be whole.
It’s just this damn code, you know? I can’t get it right and I’ve been working on it for hours, bent over, squinting. I can’t tell where it’s broken and every time I look at it, nonfunctional, I curse and look at it again. The result’s always the same, a disaster that I stare at and change and change and change. If I keep moving it around, I might find perfection, but right now it falls apart, becoming just letters. Just numbers. Just a mess. I am broken code that can’t be fixed and all I see is a confused combination that wastes away, rearranging itself until the pieces no longer make a complete whole.
I am left here incomplete. Incomplete by the work I do, by the people I meet, and by the things I accomplish. I am left incomplete because you are no longer left in my life. I miss you everyday I live. Why did you not love me back when I need you too.
I hate then things seem incomplete. Like an incomplete sentence or thought. Sometimes it’s hard to come up with a complete thought though. I suppose that’s why some things are left incompl…
Incomplete. I feel incomplete about a lot of things. It seems like the majority of my life is spent trying to complete ideas, most of the time I don’t even feel like completing them at all. It seems like most of my thought process has an idea that starts and never finds it’s proper finish. I don’t know if I’m the only one who feels that way. I feel like a lot of people find ways to complete their thought process, their visions, and I’m stuck searching and panning for them.
She ran. Down the street, into the station, only then did she look at the map. Her life to this day had been incomplete, now she was about to finish the puzzle.
people leave a lot of things incomplete in their lives. Including their life itself. We never really “complete” our life. There is always something we didn’t do that we could have. So in a sense its incomplete.
“Can it ever be complete?” I asked.
The device rested on the table. My brother had completely taken it to pieces.
“I’m not sure,” Jack answered, “but there’s only one way to find out.”
Seems like the perfect word to describe my life. Which, I know, must be quite possibly the most cliche thing to write. But it’s absolutely, unequivocally true. I am so incomplete at this very moment, that my very being seems to seep from the holes.
Feeling incomplete was probably something that he’d get used to, in time.
Strange, how one could get used to blood-curdling fights, and then miss them. He supposed it was something in his blood. RPobably inherited from some mysterious unknown relatiev.
He took another sip of the alcohol in his glass, choked slightly, and then took another sip.
Yes, very strange. He supposed if he lived to be ninety he’d never forget her. Of course she wouldn’t come after him, and he would never go after her.
This report has to be corrected was the feedback. It is incomplete and the conclusion needs to be re-written.
At which point does the expected result influence the content is my initial thought. Why should the conclusion confirm the preferred outcome? What had not been included? Was it their opinions that were missing, obscured by the facts, or had my own personal bias influenced the outcome?
It is incomplete i did not finish the homework I’m so gonna die right now. i might lose my scholarship and my job can you believe it just because of one incomplete homework.
How you feel when something doesn’t go your way. When everything’s going wrong. When you lose a loved one. When your significant other is away. How you feel when your world’s crashing down on you and you feel that there’s nothing you can do. You’re missing something but you can’t figure out what.
My life is incomplete. You are the soul to my body, and you left. You said you would never hurt me, but now what? Im crushed, broken, incomplete. So thank you for breaking my heart.
Life never seemed to make sense, tests, routines, goals, plans, dreams the end of them never came close, they never filled , or completed . everything was left , nothing ever ended but things started and they stared alot , no one knows when or how.
Definition, the feeling of losing her. The feeling of being alone. The feeling that the life you might have been comfortable if the future were to arise, but now that will never be.
I am. You are. We are. What will we have to say about everything in the end? Incomplete means that we can still be filled. Incomplete means that the work is not yet done. Incomplete means that there is hope. Let us not be complete at this stage, because that would be the ultimate disappointment. Incomplete, I am with thanks.
the waves wash continually onto the shore
my heart can go without you no more
as empty as the barren beach
happiness is so far out of reach
I long for your touch
just so it wont hurt so much
but as the hours slowly
“I was incomplete, before I met her. It’s like…she filled a space inside me I didn’t even know was empty, ya know?”
I shook my head. “Man, you’ve got it bad.”
“Shut up.” he said, knocking into my shoulder. “You’ll be just like me one day.”
I rolled my eyes. “Yeah, sure. Whatever you’ve gotta tell yourself so you can sleep at night.” I took a long drag off my cigarette. “So, when do I get to meet this girl anyway?”
unending, disastrous concept which only envelops and further shows the imperfections that are faced on a daily basis due to self doubt, hatred and a lack of understanding and tolerance of the environment which surrounds us. The fact that society in itself is incomplete is another example as to how we are all just too human, and our imperfections are what make society incomplete, such as death, such as jealousy and such as hatred. This is what incomplete is
Sometimes I feel like people can’t piece themselves together. Like they don’t know what parts of them are real and which ones make up the masks they wear. Some people can’t see past the construction they’ve made of themselves to please other people. So these people are never truly happy because they don’t really know who they are. They are incomplete.
And who’s not? We all are. And it’s beautiful, because the search is an adventure. It leads us to places we’ve never been, gives us the courage to venture outside of ourselves, into the unknown. To be incomplete is to live a life of excitement.
i am down on the hill now and forever alone without you ang i am thinking about you and us all the time because i love you and i am incompleet without you…yes…i
my world is incomplete. i feel this way without you here. even around him i still feel like there’s so much missing. of our relationship and the way that i feel about things in general. don’t know what else there is for me to do… not much i can think of. i just want you and i can’t have you because it’s too late… way too late. i wish i could turn back time…
She screwed up her face and wrinkled her nose in a futile attempt to stop her tears forming. Why was she so unable to complete any artwork? Where had her motivation gone? The artist clenched her forearms and then relaxed as she sobbed. This piece meant so much to her, so where had her will run off to?
incomplete trial by liar, fore score and seven deadly sins, into the culinary school dwarfed the lion tamer. whipping the sausages, hissing as the onions, failsafe airplanes twirling towards the woods.
I thought for awhile that i wouldn’t be able to go on,
that without him i was nothing,
that i would be lonely and alone.
Sometimes being lonely and alone is better.
Much better.
The teacher rose up from the chair holding the stopwatch in one hand and a pen in the other. She was collecting the papers from our assignment. I had not finished.
I smashed my face onto the desk as my teacher yelled, “Time!”
I hadn’t finished my exam. And this wasn’t just any exam. It was THE exam. The final one.
I had only gotten about half of it done. Curse my short attention span, rendering me incapable of focusing.
unfinished work, not enough effort, procrastination, time wasting, putting up different things, not trying hard. Those are the words that i use to explain my bad habits. also addict able
I smashed my face onto the desk as my teacher yelled, “Time!”
I hadn’t finished my exam. And this wasn’t just any exam. It was THE exam.
The final one. I had only gotten about half of it done. Curse my short attention span, rendering me incapable of focusing.
the world was incomplete without her. she was everything that I wanted and I couldn’t live without her parfume. I was incomplete, desperatly craving someone to brought me on the surface.
I am always incomplete. I think I have found all of the pieces of my being, and that I am finished, but there is always a piece that is missing. Even if I find that piece, there is still going to be another one somewhere missing. I will never be whole.
It’s just this damn code, you know? I can’t get it right and I’ve been working on it for hours, bent over, squinting. I can’t tell where it’s broken and every time I look at it, nonfunctional, I curse and look at it again. The result’s always the same, a disaster that I stare at and change and change and change. If I keep moving it around, I might find perfection, but right now it falls apart, becoming just letters. Just numbers. Just a mess. I am broken code that can’t be fixed and all I see is a confused combination that wastes away, rearranging itself until the pieces no longer make a complete whole.
I am left here incomplete. Incomplete by the work I do, by the people I meet, and by the things I accomplish. I am left incomplete because you are no longer left in my life. I miss you everyday I live. Why did you not love me back when I need you too.
I hate then things seem incomplete. Like an incomplete sentence or thought. Sometimes it’s hard to come up with a complete thought though. I suppose that’s why some things are left incompl…
Incomplete. I feel incomplete about a lot of things. It seems like the majority of my life is spent trying to complete ideas, most of the time I don’t even feel like completing them at all. It seems like most of my thought process has an idea that starts and never finds it’s proper finish. I don’t know if I’m the only one who feels that way. I feel like a lot of people find ways to complete their thought process, their visions, and I’m stuck searching and panning for them.
She ran. Down the street, into the station, only then did she look at the map. Her life to this day had been incomplete, now she was about to finish the puzzle.
I feel incomplete without you.
Incomplete means unfinished. I feel incomplete without people around me.it’s a sad feeling.some people need people to feel complete.
people leave a lot of things incomplete in their lives. Including their life itself. We never really “complete” our life. There is always something we didn’t do that we could have. So in a sense its incomplete.
“Can it ever be complete?” I asked.
The device rested on the table. My brother had completely taken it to pieces.
“I’m not sure,” Jack answered, “but there’s only one way to find out.”
Seems like the perfect word to describe my life. Which, I know, must be quite possibly the most cliche thing to write. But it’s absolutely, unequivocally true. I am so incomplete at this very moment, that my very being seems to seep from the holes.
Feeling incomplete was probably something that he’d get used to, in time.
Strange, how one could get used to blood-curdling fights, and then miss them. He supposed it was something in his blood. RPobably inherited from some mysterious unknown relatiev.
He took another sip of the alcohol in his glass, choked slightly, and then took another sip.
Yes, very strange. He supposed if he lived to be ninety he’d never forget her. Of course she wouldn’t come after him, and he would never go after her.
I checked under the box.I looked on the floor.I could not find the puzzle’s final piece.
This report has to be corrected was the feedback. It is incomplete and the conclusion needs to be re-written.
At which point does the expected result influence the content is my initial thought. Why should the conclusion confirm the preferred outcome? What had not been included? Was it their opinions that were missing, obscured by the facts, or had my own personal bias influenced the outcome?
You don’t complete me.You leave me feeling incomplete.
It is incomplete i did not finish the homework I’m so gonna die right now. i might lose my scholarship and my job can you believe it just because of one incomplete homework.
How you feel when something doesn’t go your way. When everything’s going wrong. When you lose a loved one. When your significant other is away. How you feel when your world’s crashing down on you and you feel that there’s nothing you can do. You’re missing something but you can’t figure out what.
My life is incomplete. You are the soul to my body, and you left. You said you would never hurt me, but now what? Im crushed, broken, incomplete. So thank you for breaking my heart.
Life never seemed to make sense, tests, routines, goals, plans, dreams the end of them never came close, they never filled , or completed . everything was left , nothing ever ended but things started and they stared alot , no one knows when or how.
Definition, the feeling of losing her. The feeling of being alone. The feeling that the life you might have been comfortable if the future were to arise, but now that will never be.
Sucks man. Sucks. FINISH IT. What, but…….
I am. You are. We are. What will we have to say about everything in the end? Incomplete means that we can still be filled. Incomplete means that the work is not yet done. Incomplete means that there is hope. Let us not be complete at this stage, because that would be the ultimate disappointment. Incomplete, I am with thanks.
the waves wash continually onto the shore
my heart can go without you no more
as empty as the barren beach
happiness is so far out of reach
I long for your touch
just so it wont hurt so much
but as the hours slowly
“I was incomplete, before I met her. It’s like…she filled a space inside me I didn’t even know was empty, ya know?”
I shook my head. “Man, you’ve got it bad.”
“Shut up.” he said, knocking into my shoulder. “You’ll be just like me one day.”
I rolled my eyes. “Yeah, sure. Whatever you’ve gotta tell yourself so you can sleep at night.” I took a long drag off my cigarette. “So, when do I get to meet this girl anyway?”
unending, disastrous concept which only envelops and further shows the imperfections that are faced on a daily basis due to self doubt, hatred and a lack of understanding and tolerance of the environment which surrounds us. The fact that society in itself is incomplete is another example as to how we are all just too human, and our imperfections are what make society incomplete, such as death, such as jealousy and such as hatred. This is what incomplete is
Sometimes I feel like people can’t piece themselves together. Like they don’t know what parts of them are real and which ones make up the masks they wear. Some people can’t see past the construction they’ve made of themselves to please other people. So these people are never truly happy because they don’t really know who they are. They are incomplete.
And who’s not? We all are. And it’s beautiful, because the search is an adventure. It leads us to places we’ve never been, gives us the courage to venture outside of ourselves, into the unknown. To be incomplete is to live a life of excitement.
i am down on the hill now and forever alone without you ang i am thinking about you and us all the time because i love you and i am incompleet without you…yes…i
my world is incomplete. i feel this way without you here. even around him i still feel like there’s so much missing. of our relationship and the way that i feel about things in general. don’t know what else there is for me to do… not much i can think of. i just want you and i can’t have you because it’s too late… way too late. i wish i could turn back time…
She screwed up her face and wrinkled her nose in a futile attempt to stop her tears forming. Why was she so unable to complete any artwork? Where had her motivation gone? The artist clenched her forearms and then relaxed as she sobbed. This piece meant so much to her, so where had her will run off to?
I feel so. I just get started and suddenly. What can I? Oops!
incomplete trial by liar, fore score and seven deadly sins, into the culinary school dwarfed the lion tamer. whipping the sausages, hissing as the onions, failsafe airplanes twirling towards the woods.
I thought for awhile that i wouldn’t be able to go on,
that without him i was nothing,
that i would be lonely and alone.
Sometimes being lonely and alone is better.
Much better.
This post is incomplete.
The teacher rose up from the chair holding the stopwatch in one hand and a pen in the other. She was collecting the papers from our assignment. I had not finished.
I smashed my face onto the desk as my teacher yelled, “Time!”
I hadn’t finished my exam. And this wasn’t just any exam. It was THE exam. The final one.
I had only gotten about half of it done. Curse my short attention span, rendering me incapable of focusing.
unfinished work, not enough effort, procrastination, time wasting, putting up different things, not trying hard. Those are the words that i use to explain my bad habits. also addict able
I smashed my face onto the desk as my teacher yelled, “Time!”
I hadn’t finished my exam. And this wasn’t just any exam. It was THE exam.
The final one. I had only gotten about half of it done. Curse my short attention span, rendering me incapable of focusing.
the life not live in de people of the place happy
the world was incomplete without her. she was everything that I wanted and I couldn’t live without her parfume. I was incomplete, desperatly craving someone to brought me on the surface.