something that happens when you get in between a door, but also it is something that people do for fun or as a hobby, such as flower pressing. Exercise can be done, such as bench pressing, but it is the past tense for pressing, like i pressed a button. This is gr
She grabbed the rock to her right with trembling hands and sweaty palms. She curses. “Inhale. Exhale,” she tells herself. “You can do this.”
She’s pressed on the wall, and there’s this intangible fear of falling. But she can’t look down, because her heart is jumping up at her throat and she’s afraid that she might leave it behind when she lets go.
Time. There’s only so much time in a day. We are always being pressed for time. Time to finish a project, talk to someone about something important or just pressed to get somewhere. If we had all the time in the world, I beleive we would still be pressed to finish something up. If it were’nt for deadlines, where would we be? We’d nowhere most likely. Nothing would get done because we would have no reason to really finish it. We would have all the time in the world,
life is like a blog
freshly pressed
information flows
flowing information
pressed
like the lemonade we’ve all had on a summer day
refreshing
freshly pressed
it’s a part of summer that’s departing
and a part of life that will always stay with us.
freshly
pressed.
As I lay in bed, the thoughts passing through my head were like a pressing weight. Thoughts that made me feel unclean, unwanted, and useless. I need help. Lord help me.
I remember how it felt to have your hands pressed against mine. It felt so innocent, something that we never planned, but had always wanted. I guess that’s how our relationship has always been. We’ve been pressed together and the whole time we’re left questioning how.
Being pressed is sickening. I want to be free. I want to be myself. I cannot become free. I am tied down with chains. Pandora’s box is here. Unleashiing it’s wrath on me. I have become one with it. I have become Pandora’s box. I have become misery. Pain. Sadness. Suffering.
pressed for time. compressed. pressed against a wall kissing you deeply. i want to be pressed against you. pressed into your heart..
i want to be pressed in time like a leaf into a page in a book.
imbed myself into your heart
He pressed against her, hands inching higher and higher over warm skin and under fabric. He touches her and she arches forward into him. His hands shed layers so he can get his fingers against feather warm skin.
I feel like I’m pressed for time in my career. The entire writing industry is about who can be the most interesting, the quickest, and the most consistently. I fell pressured to have as many screenplays as possible, even though I want to, before I leave high school. I honestly think that leg up can do a lot for me, and wth the competition, I need the leg up.
He pressed his hand against the symbol. He wondered just what would happen; nothing in the books had prepared him for this. his hand ached from the open wound, and his head throbbed from the loss of blood. Blood magic is not to be trifled with.
I was pressed into the crowd like sardines are into a tin. But I was so amazingly happy, despite the cigarette fumes, that it didn’t matter. One of my dreams was only a few minutes away, and the anticipation blocked everything else out.
You pressed up against me in the tightest of embraces, almost as if we haven’t seen each other in MONTHS! wait…. we HAVEN’T seen each other in months. I press myself against and beg you never to let go because I don’t know what I would do without you in my life.
Before I said goodnight I let myself be pressed against him one last time. He pressed me against his chest, the top of my head tucking neatly under his chin. We took one last breath together, and I pulled away. Looking him in the eye I told him to take care of himself. And I meant it.
People.The ignorance of them. They may be the highest animal in society, but all they are are ignorant. Some of them aren’t. And that some is very few. You have to open up your eyes. Open up your mind. Open youself. Become yourself. Who you want. That is the only way to become human. True human. True human means to be pure. I will never be not ignorant. Because, I can not open up my eyes. I refuse to believe things that I need to believe. For me to move on. I need to realize things I never realize before. And I don’t even know what to realize, due to my own ignorance. Ignorance, is indeed your own best friend.
I pressed my hands against your chest, asked you, gently, to please go away and leave me alone, but you wouldn’t do it, you would keep telling me how sorry you were and how much you loved me. Lies.
John was pressed for time. Susan was…where was she? Pressed. Giles Cory was pressed. Do you remember him? Salem Witch Trials, 1796. Pressed. Paper is pressed. Made from trees, you know. Pressed.
Pressured or held in a confined place. Could also be like a printing press or pressing leaves. I know I am pressured right now. I don’t know what to say so I am pressed.
Pressed for time. Pressed for money. Everything is kind of hitting me at once, all together. What am I doing to help myself? Sitting and waiting for something to happen… Real proactive there, girl.
i pressed the keys on my laptop to write about the word at the top of this page. i pressed the buttons on my remote to change the channel so that i could watch my favorite show. And now i’m pressed for time.
I pressed my thumb into the ink and placed my thumb upon the document. They will be holding me here until the trial is set. Then they rudely told me that I would probably not last, to which I gave them a piece of my mind. I’ve been sentenced to death, but I still have my pride.
when i think of pressed i think of pressing abutton or playing with playdough and pressing it or pressed up against a wall, pressed in closed areas as well.
I pressed up against his body and kissed him like I never have before. that single motion sent shivers down my spine, thinking of him make my heart pound and only want more. pressed up against him, I was reminded of why I fell in love with him in the first place and why I still love him today.
Pressed powder in her hand in the gold case that snaps so so happily shut with all the pictures of her she’s seen checking on her teeth on her lips on her everything pressed into her pores into her being a woman with a purse full of pressed powder.
It was pressed between the pages of an old book; a rose petal from days long since passed. The scent had permeated the leaves of the book and even now it still lingers in my mind. It filled the air when I thumbed through the book and brought with it memories of the day it was placed within. I would always think back on it fondly.
A guitar. Different strings strung together. To make one thing. I am not one person. I am different people combined into one. Each person has different personalities. But only all of those personalities can be combined into one. One thing. One person. One human being.
I am pressed but not crushed persecuted but not abandoned. I love the pressing for it thins me out… creates me into something more. I hate it because I am not fond of pressure. But I am always better for it. Always. I am pressed, but not crushed. Pressed. I am pressed for any more thoughts on this discussion.
I pressed next to him, hoping he would feel not only my body, but my need to be with him. I wondered if he would respond; understanding the desires a woman has to be loved and cared for. I need him.
I pressed down and heard the muffled POP! sound come from her spine.
She immediately seemed relieved. It makes me feel good to rub the stress from her body.
I didn’t know exactly what I was doing. I was sitting there, laboring over something I couldn’t understand. I didn’t know exactly how I was going to fix it. I had less than an hour, and it had better be damn good by then. It was staring me right in the face, and I had no other way to get out of it. It was now or never, but the now would never come. I couldn’t be inspired. I couldn’t get my brain to work. It was scary, how effective a time limit was. I was pressed for time.
It was pressed between the pages of an old book. A rose petal from days long since passed. The scent had permeated the leaves of the book and even now it still lingers in my mind. It filled the air when I thumbed through the book and brought with it memories of the day it was placed within. I would always think back on it fondly.
presse–as I pressed the blade through my nemsis heart, the blood spewed, splattering my face and anything near by. As I cleaned my blade, pressing firmly to remove the excess blood, I remembered feeling indifferent to my first kill. The heat of battle blazes through you, nothing matters so long as you live. Adreniline pumps as you rush forward, with your
something that happens when you get in between a door, but also it is something that people do for fun or as a hobby, such as flower pressing. Exercise can be done, such as bench pressing, but it is the past tense for pressing, like i pressed a button. This is gr
Pressed for time, you’re ready to go
The sky is changing colour
The sun too, is ready to leave
Pressing, pushing the blue away
Greatly reaching blue
Overpowering, strong, simple
You don’t have much time
Run run run
The sun is running away
Why do you always have to leave?
Chase me, hurry
Catch me, run!
Midnight is coming
Run from him
Pressed on time
Run, quick
Catch me if you can
Midnight is coming
She grabbed the rock to her right with trembling hands and sweaty palms. She curses. “Inhale. Exhale,” she tells herself. “You can do this.”
She’s pressed on the wall, and there’s this intangible fear of falling. But she can’t look down, because her heart is jumping up at her throat and she’s afraid that she might leave it behind when she lets go.
Time. There’s only so much time in a day. We are always being pressed for time. Time to finish a project, talk to someone about something important or just pressed to get somewhere. If we had all the time in the world, I beleive we would still be pressed to finish something up. If it were’nt for deadlines, where would we be? We’d nowhere most likely. Nothing would get done because we would have no reason to really finish it. We would have all the time in the world,
already pushed it.
life is like a blog
freshly pressed
information flows
flowing information
pressed
like the lemonade we’ve all had on a summer day
refreshing
freshly pressed
it’s a part of summer that’s departing
and a part of life that will always stay with us.
freshly
pressed.
As I lay in bed, the thoughts passing through my head were like a pressing weight. Thoughts that made me feel unclean, unwanted, and useless. I need help. Lord help me.
Stay pressed, haters~
I remember how it felt to have your hands pressed against mine. It felt so innocent, something that we never planned, but had always wanted. I guess that’s how our relationship has always been. We’ve been pressed together and the whole time we’re left questioning how.
Being pressed is sickening. I want to be free. I want to be myself. I cannot become free. I am tied down with chains. Pandora’s box is here. Unleashiing it’s wrath on me. I have become one with it. I have become Pandora’s box. I have become misery. Pain. Sadness. Suffering.
pressed for time. compressed. pressed against a wall kissing you deeply. i want to be pressed against you. pressed into your heart..
i want to be pressed in time like a leaf into a page in a book.
imbed myself into your heart
He pressed against her, hands inching higher and higher over warm skin and under fabric. He touches her and she arches forward into him. His hands shed layers so he can get his fingers against feather warm skin.
I feel like I’m pressed for time in my career. The entire writing industry is about who can be the most interesting, the quickest, and the most consistently. I fell pressured to have as many screenplays as possible, even though I want to, before I leave high school. I honestly think that leg up can do a lot for me, and wth the competition, I need the leg up.
smooshed into a book with love. flowers of course =D pressed by pages written about romantic, medieval stories…
He pressed his hand against the symbol. He wondered just what would happen; nothing in the books had prepared him for this. his hand ached from the open wound, and his head throbbed from the loss of blood. Blood magic is not to be trifled with.
him holding me in his arms, laying on top of me. I love feeling his weight, it’s the best thing in the world. nothing else matters when I’m with him.
We pressed our palms against each other’s bodies, feeling the pressure of pleasure inside.
I was pressed into the crowd like sardines are into a tin. But I was so amazingly happy, despite the cigarette fumes, that it didn’t matter. One of my dreams was only a few minutes away, and the anticipation blocked everything else out.
as I pressed down on the button to submit, I realized the mistake I had made. it was too late to take it back.
You pressed up against me in the tightest of embraces, almost as if we haven’t seen each other in MONTHS! wait…. we HAVEN’T seen each other in months. I press myself against and beg you never to let go because I don’t know what I would do without you in my life.
Before I said goodnight I let myself be pressed against him one last time. He pressed me against his chest, the top of my head tucking neatly under his chin. We took one last breath together, and I pulled away. Looking him in the eye I told him to take care of himself. And I meant it.
People.The ignorance of them. They may be the highest animal in society, but all they are are ignorant. Some of them aren’t. And that some is very few. You have to open up your eyes. Open up your mind. Open youself. Become yourself. Who you want. That is the only way to become human. True human. True human means to be pure. I will never be not ignorant. Because, I can not open up my eyes. I refuse to believe things that I need to believe. For me to move on. I need to realize things I never realize before. And I don’t even know what to realize, due to my own ignorance. Ignorance, is indeed your own best friend.
I pressed my hands against your chest, asked you, gently, to please go away and leave me alone, but you wouldn’t do it, you would keep telling me how sorry you were and how much you loved me. Lies.
John was pressed for time. Susan was…where was she? Pressed. Giles Cory was pressed. Do you remember him? Salem Witch Trials, 1796. Pressed. Paper is pressed. Made from trees, you know. Pressed.
Pressured or held in a confined place. Could also be like a printing press or pressing leaves. I know I am pressured right now. I don’t know what to say so I am pressed.
Pressed for time. Pressed for money. Everything is kind of hitting me at once, all together. What am I doing to help myself? Sitting and waiting for something to happen… Real proactive there, girl.
i pressed the keys on my laptop to write about the word at the top of this page. i pressed the buttons on my remote to change the channel so that i could watch my favorite show. And now i’m pressed for time.
I pressed my thumb into the ink and placed my thumb upon the document. They will be holding me here until the trial is set. Then they rudely told me that I would probably not last, to which I gave them a piece of my mind. I’ve been sentenced to death, but I still have my pride.
when i think of pressed i think of pressing abutton or playing with playdough and pressing it or pressed up against a wall, pressed in closed areas as well.
I pressed up against his body and kissed him like I never have before. that single motion sent shivers down my spine, thinking of him make my heart pound and only want more. pressed up against him, I was reminded of why I fell in love with him in the first place and why I still love him today.
Pressed powder in her hand in the gold case that snaps so so happily shut with all the pictures of her she’s seen checking on her teeth on her lips on her everything pressed into her pores into her being a woman with a purse full of pressed powder.
It was pressed between the pages of an old book; a rose petal from days long since passed. The scent had permeated the leaves of the book and even now it still lingers in my mind. It filled the air when I thumbed through the book and brought with it memories of the day it was placed within. I would always think back on it fondly.
A guitar. Different strings strung together. To make one thing. I am not one person. I am different people combined into one. Each person has different personalities. But only all of those personalities can be combined into one. One thing. One person. One human being.
pressed against a wall.
thats how life works. everyone gets to puke their feelings on you.
and somehow they cant take the time to listen to you.
so you are stuck bottling everything.
I am pressed but not crushed persecuted but not abandoned. I love the pressing for it thins me out… creates me into something more. I hate it because I am not fond of pressure. But I am always better for it. Always. I am pressed, but not crushed. Pressed. I am pressed for any more thoughts on this discussion.
I pressed next to him, hoping he would feel not only my body, but my need to be with him. I wondered if he would respond; understanding the desires a woman has to be loved and cared for. I need him.
I pressed down and heard the muffled POP! sound come from her spine.
She immediately seemed relieved. It makes me feel good to rub the stress from her body.
I didn’t know exactly what I was doing. I was sitting there, laboring over something I couldn’t understand. I didn’t know exactly how I was going to fix it. I had less than an hour, and it had better be damn good by then. It was staring me right in the face, and I had no other way to get out of it. It was now or never, but the now would never come. I couldn’t be inspired. I couldn’t get my brain to work. It was scary, how effective a time limit was. I was pressed for time.
It was pressed between the pages of an old book. A rose petal from days long since passed. The scent had permeated the leaves of the book and even now it still lingers in my mind. It filled the air when I thumbed through the book and brought with it memories of the day it was placed within. I would always think back on it fondly.
presse–as I pressed the blade through my nemsis heart, the blood spewed, splattering my face and anything near by. As I cleaned my blade, pressing firmly to remove the excess blood, I remembered feeling indifferent to my first kill. The heat of battle blazes through you, nothing matters so long as you live. Adreniline pumps as you rush forward, with your