He stared at the numbers intently as if staring at the numbers on his computer screen would change them. He plugging in the numbers again, deliberately pressing each number on the keypad, hoping that he might have previously made a mistake. But they kept coming out the same. His wife had been embezzling money from the company.
The right combination of numbers will open any door, but the human heart is not a keypad.
Too complex to be broken down to the basics of numerals, but inevitably someone will try.
I just wait and listen to my heartbeat: when it gets faster while she’s around I know I’ve cracked my code
my phone is being stupid. Nothing is working. As I’m endlessly mashing keys nothing comes up. It’s frustrating as hell. So I decide to break it open. The key pad isn’t connected to the circuit board. That’s the problem here, how GAY.
The keypad in kait’s phone is totally diff diiffff than minneeeee
the front has the oh my god touch option!
and the inside is a bit less raised…
today she told me my space button was too hard to press it made me sad=((
the keypad on her calc is so effed up but not as 1much as mine because i spilled chemicals in chem lab on mine
keypad mouse pad van gough, why would you put a van gough painting on something as insignificant as a mousepad? Why is the computer telling me i’ve misspelled gough? it’s done it again! is it goff? was he jewish? I was always told he was but perhaps that’s just to make my faith look good.
i don’t know how to write you this email. my keypad has letters, but put together they can’t convey these turbulent emotions contained by this mind, sending signals down a neck, a shoulder, an arm, a wrist, 10 fingers. i’m lost. i don’t know how things got to be this way, and a part of me wishes we could be together again. but i need to move on. i guess i’ll begin with that.
I punched the numbers on the keypad just like I had a million times before. The error alarm beeped. I looked at the pad to make sure I wasn’t crazy and punched in the code again. Error alarms again. I kept trying. I was for some reason locked out of my own home. I tried the code once more and then the pad locked. SWAT swarmed the house. I was arrested for trying to break into my own home. Why in the world did he change the code?
a am typing on a keppad right now, thjis is my life. were i spend most of it typing away. typing crap. i dont really type much but this site here makse me type alot on this keppad. funny it is the subject keypad what on typing on here to type this what a coinsandence. i cant really spell
my fingers are like ghosts as they float over these keys. haunting what i used to love and who i used to be. “too concerned with the worlds on the outside…” is he right? has the inside of me died? did i kill it just like he killed my love for him? without water we do not grow. without practice we loose muscle memory. without activity we grow soft. lazy. boring. oh these keys that used to bleed for me now only dance for facebook and online dating. i am embarrassed. i am ashamed. but i am not dead yet.
I stared at the keypad. Glared was probably a more accurate description, really. A hard, unrelenting stare pregnant with hatred. For numbers, for mathematical symbols that meant nothing to me. Anything that was unrelated to words – such as the things represented here on this keypad – was worth nothing to me but a moment spent steeping in negative energy.
keypad is a gateway. it dials numbers and connect you to people. a keyboard lets you write to people and write to yourself and allows you to express yourself.
it goes and goes and goes.
typing, many people, all the time.
it doesn’t stop.
click, click, click.
that’s all there is,
it’s all you hear.
it’s all you need.
it’s comfort, and pain.
it’s life.
this is my keypad my life line my blood. it is the window to my soul with which I let you view the depths that make me fear the light. This is my keypad, this is my life.
She banged her head on the keypad, unsure how to respond to the message her friend (ex?) had sent to her. She held back tears. This is hard, she thought. Really hard. But worth it, perhaps.
I hate my phone’s keypad because it’s so flat and and so unreactive. Whenever i pressed that technology-lited pad, i fear that i won’t be able to type properly
Keybad is a great word. If I did not own a keypad I would not be able to do what I am doing right now. A keypad is much more than just something to key in with. It is how we can see the world and express our opinins about it. We can share our ideas and show everyone what we are all about. We can help and hurt and make words to give or opinion. That is a keypad.
keypad. well that’s not a very exciting word. though i’m sure plenty of people will come up with something beautiful and poetic and poignant to say about it. sometimes i’m amazed at what people write in 60 seconds. or did they cheat?
a game exposes subconscious obsessive compulsive disorders,
and can also temporarily threaten established friendships.
for example.
Friend A: Damn it all! He got away! With NINE life, WTF IS THIS.
Friend B: -silence-
Friend A: Why didn’t you cast your spell?
Friend B: I tried! I moved my mouse to the icon and clicked it and before I could move my mouse back to click on the guy, he was already out of range!
Friend A: YOU DIDN’T USE THE HOTKEY?
Friend B: Wha – what hotkeys?
Friend A: HOTKEYS, DAMMIT.
Friend B: Wtf are hotkeys?
Friend A: They’re – omfg, nevermind, just forget it.
Friend B: LOOK, THERE’S ANOTHER GUY ON LOW LIFE, GET HIM.
Friend A: HE’S RUNNING AWAY, QUICK, USE YOUR SPELL-
Friend B: DAMN! He got away again!
Friend A: …Did you use the hotkey?
Friend B: WTF ARE HOTKEYS.
Friend A: HOTKEYS!
Friend B: HOTKEYS?
Friend A: Yes, you noob.
Friend B: Don’t call me a noob!
Friend A: Noob.
Friend B: Shut – OMG OMG LOOK, ANOTHER GUY ON LOW LIFE GET HIM NOW!!
Typing on my keypad was all i could do. i ran and jumped in my mind, but there was nothing i could do about my need for motion. all i could do was type. it was nothing about the deadline, or my soreness, or anythign else. it was just that urgent need to share my message. it was more urgent and important than anything else.
this is the best keypad, it is easy to press and really big… I hate writing games, but really writing about a keypad is no more random than the abstractions I feel the need to write about, anyway. Why not a keypad? Why not this couch, this building? I shouldn’t be focusing on the subject.
she stared at the keypad trying desperately to think of the numbers feeling extremely old with the man behind her in the supermarket glaring at her like if he didn’t get that bag of chips the car immediately, he was going to rip out her throat and feed it to his pet turtle.
Fingers flying over the pad as she entered some incomprehensible string of numbers, a code so long I could spend hours staring at it and still forget if prompted.
I don’t know how she remembered these things, and I didn’t bother trying to work it out from her movements, just concentrated on those slender hands purposefully depressing the buttons.
A short series of beeps, and she shoved the door open lightly.
Here I am typing this out, letter by letter on this keypad on my keyboard. Keystroke after keystroke. Stroke…sounds naughty. I like naughty. Stroke it…stroke it good.
Keypads are kinda dumb. They make ugly beeping noises until you shut them off and they have weird backlights.
What is the point of the beeping noise, other than a great attempt to annoy people? And as for the backlight, make it match the rest of my phone. Please.
Touch screens are SO much better.
A keypad sits aimlessly.
We are free when we use it.
But we think nothing of it.
Nothing at all.
And others see our feelings
Submitted by the keypad.
What is found is feelings.
And freedom
from everything in the daily life
That we did not want to deal with.
Free.
That’s a simple word that really only relates to one thing, the laptop. On my laptop are dozens of keys, all of which work perfectly, except for the o, which has been sticking lately. I guess there may be other keypads in this world; for instance on a calculator, a cell phone, or remote controls.
seriously?! This is still up? I did this like 3 days ago. God dammit you guys, get a new friggin word. There really isn’t much that I can do with “keypad” try something more poetic, or intense.
At one time I could type 90 words a minute on an IBM Selectric machine. It was called a shelf correcting typewriter and I could type as fast backwards to correct a mistake as I could type forwards. My fingers flew across the keypad and I swear I could see sparks fly in the night. But I am now older and make more mistakes and don’t care how fast I type. But I do miss the sparks!
He stared at the numbers intently as if staring at the numbers on his computer screen would change them. He plugging in the numbers again, deliberately pressing each number on the keypad, hoping that he might have previously made a mistake. But they kept coming out the same. His wife had been embezzling money from the company.
The right combination of numbers will open any door, but the human heart is not a keypad.
Too complex to be broken down to the basics of numerals, but inevitably someone will try.
I just wait and listen to my heartbeat: when it gets faster while she’s around I know I’ve cracked my code
my phone is being stupid. Nothing is working. As I’m endlessly mashing keys nothing comes up. It’s frustrating as hell. So I decide to break it open. The key pad isn’t connected to the circuit board. That’s the problem here, how GAY.
The keypad in kait’s phone is totally diff diiffff than minneeeee
the front has the oh my god touch option!
and the inside is a bit less raised…
today she told me my space button was too hard to press it made me sad=((
the keypad on her calc is so effed up but not as 1much as mine because i spilled chemicals in chem lab on mine
spacebar
The key to life
what the fuck.
Super secret agent key swipe FOB
Wind?
I think I have ADD.
keypad mouse pad van gough, why would you put a van gough painting on something as insignificant as a mousepad? Why is the computer telling me i’ve misspelled gough? it’s done it again! is it goff? was he jewish? I was always told he was but perhaps that’s just to make my faith look good.
i stared at the keypad, unbelieving. since when did my the refrigerator have a keypad? was that even possible?
i tugged at the door, it was securely locked. i needed the passcode but knew i wouldn’t get it even if i asked.
i guess i shouldn’t have doubted my mom when she said i was going on a diet…
i don’t know how to write you this email. my keypad has letters, but put together they can’t convey these turbulent emotions contained by this mind, sending signals down a neck, a shoulder, an arm, a wrist, 10 fingers. i’m lost. i don’t know how things got to be this way, and a part of me wishes we could be together again. but i need to move on. i guess i’ll begin with that.
I punched the numbers on the keypad just like I had a million times before. The error alarm beeped. I looked at the pad to make sure I wasn’t crazy and punched in the code again. Error alarms again. I kept trying. I was for some reason locked out of my own home. I tried the code once more and then the pad locked. SWAT swarmed the house. I was arrested for trying to break into my own home. Why in the world did he change the code?
a am typing on a keppad right now, thjis is my life. were i spend most of it typing away. typing crap. i dont really type much but this site here makse me type alot on this keppad. funny it is the subject keypad what on typing on here to type this what a coinsandence. i cant really spell
my fingers are like ghosts as they float over these keys. haunting what i used to love and who i used to be. “too concerned with the worlds on the outside…” is he right? has the inside of me died? did i kill it just like he killed my love for him? without water we do not grow. without practice we loose muscle memory. without activity we grow soft. lazy. boring. oh these keys that used to bleed for me now only dance for facebook and online dating. i am embarrassed. i am ashamed. but i am not dead yet.
where in the world did all of these letters come from? how did they get here? what do they mean? are they mine?
I stared at the keypad. Glared was probably a more accurate description, really. A hard, unrelenting stare pregnant with hatred. For numbers, for mathematical symbols that meant nothing to me. Anything that was unrelated to words – such as the things represented here on this keypad – was worth nothing to me but a moment spent steeping in negative energy.
keypad is a gateway. it dials numbers and connect you to people. a keyboard lets you write to people and write to yourself and allows you to express yourself.
it goes and goes and goes.
typing, many people, all the time.
it doesn’t stop.
click, click, click.
that’s all there is,
it’s all you hear.
it’s all you need.
it’s comfort, and pain.
it’s life.
this is my keypad my life line my blood. it is the window to my soul with which I let you view the depths that make me fear the light. This is my keypad, this is my life.
She banged her head on the keypad, unsure how to respond to the message her friend (ex?) had sent to her. She held back tears. This is hard, she thought. Really hard. But worth it, perhaps.
I hate my phone’s keypad because it’s so flat and and so unreactive. Whenever i pressed that technology-lited pad, i fear that i won’t be able to type properly
Keybad is a great word. If I did not own a keypad I would not be able to do what I am doing right now. A keypad is much more than just something to key in with. It is how we can see the world and express our opinins about it. We can share our ideas and show everyone what we are all about. We can help and hurt and make words to give or opinion. That is a keypad.
keypad. well that’s not a very exciting word. though i’m sure plenty of people will come up with something beautiful and poetic and poignant to say about it. sometimes i’m amazed at what people write in 60 seconds. or did they cheat?
a game exposes subconscious obsessive compulsive disorders,
and can also temporarily threaten established friendships.
for example.
Friend A: Damn it all! He got away! With NINE life, WTF IS THIS.
Friend B: -silence-
Friend A: Why didn’t you cast your spell?
Friend B: I tried! I moved my mouse to the icon and clicked it and before I could move my mouse back to click on the guy, he was already out of range!
Friend A: YOU DIDN’T USE THE HOTKEY?
Friend B: Wha – what hotkeys?
Friend A: HOTKEYS, DAMMIT.
Friend B: Wtf are hotkeys?
Friend A: They’re – omfg, nevermind, just forget it.
Friend B: LOOK, THERE’S ANOTHER GUY ON LOW LIFE, GET HIM.
Friend A: HE’S RUNNING AWAY, QUICK, USE YOUR SPELL-
Friend B: DAMN! He got away again!
Friend A: …Did you use the hotkey?
Friend B: WTF ARE HOTKEYS.
Friend A: HOTKEYS!
Friend B: HOTKEYS?
Friend A: Yes, you noob.
Friend B: Don’t call me a noob!
Friend A: Noob.
Friend B: Shut – OMG OMG LOOK, ANOTHER GUY ON LOW LIFE GET HIM NOW!!
Bloop, blip, beep.
The friendly sounds of the keypad seemed to mock her as she read the flashing display above them: ACCESS DENIED.
She tried again, pressing her finger firmly on each button, with no success.
Typing on my keypad was all i could do. i ran and jumped in my mind, but there was nothing i could do about my need for motion. all i could do was type. it was nothing about the deadline, or my soreness, or anythign else. it was just that urgent need to share my message. it was more urgent and important than anything else.
Typing. Thoughts. Writing. Ideas. Business. Numbers. Plaid. Ticking. Judgement. Reward.
this is the best keypad, it is easy to press and really big… I hate writing games, but really writing about a keypad is no more random than the abstractions I feel the need to write about, anyway. Why not a keypad? Why not this couch, this building? I shouldn’t be focusing on the subject.
she stared at the keypad trying desperately to think of the numbers feeling extremely old with the man behind her in the supermarket glaring at her like if he didn’t get that bag of chips the car immediately, he was going to rip out her throat and feed it to his pet turtle.
Fingers flying over the pad as she entered some incomprehensible string of numbers, a code so long I could spend hours staring at it and still forget if prompted.
I don’t know how she remembered these things, and I didn’t bother trying to work it out from her movements, just concentrated on those slender hands purposefully depressing the buttons.
A short series of beeps, and she shoved the door open lightly.
djkfjnsjkvn;ksdvnj;fgjhr;evhjnvljnas;jdfn;kancvksnvkndjanhgjhjghdfjgh;jkfgnajkskluheuhjsljhjdfnfgwean ahdjfhjdnfjbegf;ahf sdkfnak;dnkfjdslgtugjbj;sdnfaklsnml’aiejirjeitherubgj;djafnaj;sdnjkfn;sdkfnasdkfjasdljkhgruiognjrengfbvrurwe;cjern;ciq’fxdubfjdbfjkabnjkldbfdfdsfdkvjkjs;vkjkfj;fajdkgjdksgjk;fjg;ierhjguierhvjhn;jkadnv;dksnva’kdgj;aghi;ergrggdfgdfgfdggggvjdfbvjasbdfjb;asjfndjbfj
Here I am typing this out, letter by letter on this keypad on my keyboard. Keystroke after keystroke. Stroke…sounds naughty. I like naughty. Stroke it…stroke it good.
qwertyuiopasdfghjkl;zxcvbnm
skip to my lou, lou, lou skip to my lou, skip pebbles, skip, skap, skip
The keypads under my fingers are really easy to type. I remember taking typing class without computers…
Keypads are kinda dumb. They make ugly beeping noises until you shut them off and they have weird backlights.
What is the point of the beeping noise, other than a great attempt to annoy people? And as for the backlight, make it match the rest of my phone. Please.
Touch screens are SO much better.
this keypad does not provide enough letters
for me to say
what i want
to say
A keypad sits aimlessly.
We are free when we use it.
But we think nothing of it.
Nothing at all.
And others see our feelings
Submitted by the keypad.
What is found is feelings.
And freedom
from everything in the daily life
That we did not want to deal with.
Free.
That’s a simple word that really only relates to one thing, the laptop. On my laptop are dozens of keys, all of which work perfectly, except for the o, which has been sticking lately. I guess there may be other keypads in this world; for instance on a calculator, a cell phone, or remote controls.
Looms before me; projects and inspirations await. It remains eternally patient until I get my ass in gear.
seriously?! This is still up? I did this like 3 days ago. God dammit you guys, get a new friggin word. There really isn’t much that I can do with “keypad” try something more poetic, or intense.
a pad with keys. Why do they call them keys?
At one time I could type 90 words a minute on an IBM Selectric machine. It was called a shelf correcting typewriter and I could type as fast backwards to correct a mistake as I could type forwards. My fingers flew across the keypad and I swear I could see sparks fly in the night. But I am now older and make more mistakes and don’t care how fast I type. But I do miss the sparks!