I am pressed for time. Aristotle would say that I am a generous person when it comes to time, because I take time pretty well. I guess deficiency in giving time is there, haha. Blah Blah, Monday tomorrow
I’m pressed for time, like some flower between the pages of a book, wanting to last beyond what I was maybe intended. And my youth will fade, unlike that flower – but we’ll both be devoid of something, water, life – time. Something. If I carry on this way, that is. I’m just so pressed for time, you see.
I leaned in pressed against the wooden rail, searching for the longing arms to be within. As last His lips pressed to my own, lingering, longing….to not let go a distance a sun fade, off. As the bus takes a turn for the worse,. as it made it all the way down the street.
For the first time in my life, i don’t feel pressed for time. I want to explore and find adventures. I am done with being confined. My time is my own and i will spend it how i like it.
He pressed me against his car and it was the hottest thing I have ever experienced. I keep thinking about how hot it is, and how much I like him. This next year needs to go quick because I cannot stop thinking about him… or us.
She pressed her palm against the door, begging him to open it. What he was going through, she couldn’t bear it. The pain he was feeling, the hatred towards himself, it was all her fault. She wished she could make it all better. She wished she could FIX him.
Pressed for time, how silly that this was just on my mind.
We start off so curious, endless options and opportunities.
Some get lazy, others are in unfortunate situations, others will waste it away on facebook and twitter.
Who are we to waste our time, our society is enraged at the thought of getting older when there are those that weren’t blessed to reach old age.
So.. wander, question and don’t accept anything unless it feels right to you.
Pressed for time, then use it. no squandering of time allowed, please.
You can press a button.
You can feel pressed for time.
I don’t like to feel pressed to do anything.
I would much rather do things of my own free will.
You can be pressed against a wall,
by a gorgeous man.
That’s about the only pressing thing I would enjoy.
i pressed my body against his. knowing that i loved every second of being there. the here and now. i knew right then that i had fallen in love and i wasnt going back. never going back. so i pressed my lips onto his and just held on.
It hurts, and not like that. The pressure of the metal on my ribs, the weight bending my spine into a sharp S, the need to be the best. The need, but not the strength. Five drums harnessed to my hips, pulling at my shoulders. I just want that strength.
He was pressed, deeper and deeper into himself. It was building up, of course. The pressure, that is. Once there’s no more room, the bottle cap will fly off, and an explosion like nothing else will flood the very room that he presently inhabits.
He pressed harder and harder on the wall,
but the hidden door refused to open again.
Keep calm; your torch still has some life left.
I can’t see too far, even with light. I can hear it. It’s in here with me.
The torch just barely lit the walls, covered in cobwebs and vines.
We’ll be right back.
No, don’t leave, I hear him. The switch is somewhere.
Voices on the other side; faded.
The glowing from the torch; faded.
He pressed his face against the stone;
banging with his fists, bashing with his shield.
The growling; roaring, growing like an endless thunder.
Oh, god, he’s coming. Help.
Still no answer, save the sound of heavy paws on stone.
And in a brief instant
The paws left the stone,
to tread air until it reached it’s goal.
His torch and shield both jumped from his hands
as he lay spread eagle on the ground
Furred claws tore at his chestplate,
tearing metal and flesh alike.
The rapid succession of strikes
sent his own blood splashing in his face.
The monster savored every shriek and cry
from the pathetic victim; cries none else could hear
or appreciate.
Taking pride in the open eyes, mouth and chest,
the beast retreated into the shadow,
silently
almost as quiet as the torch,
relinquishing it’s aegis against the dark.
Or the soul of a brave adventurer,
spilling and mixing in a pool of his own blood.
I’m always pressed for time; my life crumbles from the amount of stress I take on. It hurts, being under so much pressure. There aren’t enough hours in the day for what needs to be done. I’m pressed under the weight of the things I do; I’m under pressure.
She walked down the hallway
Pressed her hands to the rows of lockers
She wanted to scream
She wanted to be silent
A mixture of feelings—she’s overwhelmed
Her hands begin to throb
but she likes it
Pressing harder and harder,
letting the anger seep into the lockers
and out of her body and mind
i pressed the power button on the old remote control, my television set jumped to life, and shaving commercial blared. i turned it off, maybe t.v. isn’t what i needed at the moment. i walked to my kitchen, it had been recently painted red, the room feels different.
i unthaw frozez hummus, pull some naan bread from the fridge. voilà, dinner is made. i sit at my dining table alone. i need to get out of my house, i need to go out and feel different. life is consistant, contrary. i need more friends who like to do things, maybe i should have a dinner party. someone perhaps who also enjoys hummus and the colour red.
i check my caller-id, my mother has been calling for about a week straight, atleast two times a day. i don’t know why she is calling so often, but she doesn’t leave a message. i think for a moment that the right thing to do is to return her calls, i don’t know what i would talk to her about. i do know that she wouldn’t have anything positive to tell me.
so i skip over to my laptop and check my e-mails, these days my inbox is flooded with junk mail and coupons. i send out a few e-mails to old friends and co-workers, i would be thrilled if any of them decide to write me back. thrilled.
i feel pressed on all sides – by my job, by school, by my boyfriend. i don’t know what he wants, i just know that whatever it is i can’t give him. he presses me to commit more than i’m willing to commit, but at the same time i know that my fucked-up childhood has greatly skewed my willingness to commit, so i don’t trust myself anymore. i’m pressed on all sides by classwork that i have absolutely no fucking interest in.
Pressed down and no where to go except to you. Strictly physical relationship after 3 years of nothing, and 3 years of a strictly emotional relationship before that. This sounds like a good idea if we want to go no where fast…. Why are we falling into this trap? Why do I like it so much? Pressed down in this moment of just you and me, just our bodies… and thats all there is.
She pressed her hands to her forehead. Leaning against the cinder block wall, she looked up and down the street. She was waiting for someone, thought not sure who it was. Hopefully, though, they would make themselves known and would be able to help her properly.
being pressed against a wall, having his entire weight pushing against me, he hands in my hair, his lips over mine, his tongue probing my lips to open. Pressed into his being.
I felt pressed against the wall, pressed for time, pressed for breathe, for air. Pressed into a cooker that made me boil to the point of pressing forward. The only path to take.
Pressed for time. Pressed for space. Smashed up and beaten, society’s got me down. I’m out on a wire and without desire to carry on, expectations have me pressed to find an answer.
pressed against the wall, you are left with your final, most desperate, yet the words you want to speak the most. In the most stressful situations, one seems most plausible to word their feelings and share what they usually fight to cover up.
We are so pressed for time! There isn’t any time for chatter anymore, leaving us with our blood pressure too high, our heads aching, and our hearts racing. I don’t want to play anymore.
I’m pressed up against this wall I’ve mentally placed there.
A figment of my imagination, none the less.
But present, in the same.
What do I do?
Where do I go?
Which turn do I make?
I’m completely lost, as you press me for questions that I don’t know the answer is.
I don’t even know what day it is.
I was pressed for time, I felt like Mario from those video games, just one second away from getting squished like a pancake under the gray thwomp things with the angry faces. Except my thwomp was time. I needed to finish this assignment before the bell rang, or else I’d get a 0~
I pressed the buttons down until they snapped. I had pressed so hard that it left indents in my thumbs and they were red. My boyfriend pressed my decision as to what to watch on Netflix and how chocolately do I like it…
i was pressed up against the wall. breathing heavily. his scent was intoxicating, i couldnt let go of him. we were one. it was crazy, i never do these kinds of things, but i had never wanted something so bad in my life.
I pressed my shoulder into the wall as I felt the sadness crushing me. My heart was beating faster and faster, it was all I could do to try to calm myself down. Finally I let loose and cried. Losing control for the first time in years.
The train didn’t stop. The conductor didn’t see it. Already too late, the train just kept moving along, leaving behind a pressed, flat penny on the rails.
into tightness or like pants or permanent press something like that. i guess. tight spaces. pressed pants. there’s a tailor and zach who used to work at the dry cleaners. khakis
Pressed for answers, pressed for time. All negative connotations. Lets change it up a little and have you press me up against a wall and kiss me with passion. I’d like the term ‘pressed’ better then…
I am pressed for time. Aristotle would say that I am a generous person when it comes to time, because I take time pretty well. I guess deficiency in giving time is there, haha. Blah Blah, Monday tomorrow
I’m pressed for time, like some flower between the pages of a book, wanting to last beyond what I was maybe intended. And my youth will fade, unlike that flower – but we’ll both be devoid of something, water, life – time. Something. If I carry on this way, that is. I’m just so pressed for time, you see.
I leaned in pressed against the wooden rail, searching for the longing arms to be within. As last His lips pressed to my own, lingering, longing….to not let go a distance a sun fade, off. As the bus takes a turn for the worse,. as it made it all the way down the street.
For the first time in my life, i don’t feel pressed for time. I want to explore and find adventures. I am done with being confined. My time is my own and i will spend it how i like it.
He pressed me against his car and it was the hottest thing I have ever experienced. I keep thinking about how hot it is, and how much I like him. This next year needs to go quick because I cannot stop thinking about him… or us.
She pressed her palm against the door, begging him to open it. What he was going through, she couldn’t bear it. The pain he was feeling, the hatred towards himself, it was all her fault. She wished she could make it all better. She wished she could FIX him.
Pressed for time, how silly that this was just on my mind.
We start off so curious, endless options and opportunities.
Some get lazy, others are in unfortunate situations, others will waste it away on facebook and twitter.
Who are we to waste our time, our society is enraged at the thought of getting older when there are those that weren’t blessed to reach old age.
So.. wander, question and don’t accept anything unless it feels right to you.
Pressed for time, then use it. no squandering of time allowed, please.
Pressed olives!
You can press a button.
You can feel pressed for time.
I don’t like to feel pressed to do anything.
I would much rather do things of my own free will.
You can be pressed against a wall,
by a gorgeous man.
That’s about the only pressing thing I would enjoy.
keyboard
bottle
dress
opressor
contemporar
impressed
to realise
Time. That’s what I’m pressed for. Damnit, stumbleupon.
i pressed my body against his. knowing that i loved every second of being there. the here and now. i knew right then that i had fallen in love and i wasnt going back. never going back. so i pressed my lips onto his and just held on.
It hurts, and not like that. The pressure of the metal on my ribs, the weight bending my spine into a sharp S, the need to be the best. The need, but not the strength. Five drums harnessed to my hips, pulling at my shoulders. I just want that strength.
He was pressed, deeper and deeper into himself. It was building up, of course. The pressure, that is. Once there’s no more room, the bottle cap will fly off, and an explosion like nothing else will flood the very room that he presently inhabits.
I think of a young mans strong intressed in a young woman. One may say to obsses would mean you’re “pressed”
He pressed harder and harder on the wall,
but the hidden door refused to open again.
Keep calm; your torch still has some life left.
I can’t see too far, even with light. I can hear it. It’s in here with me.
The torch just barely lit the walls, covered in cobwebs and vines.
We’ll be right back.
No, don’t leave, I hear him. The switch is somewhere.
Voices on the other side; faded.
The glowing from the torch; faded.
He pressed his face against the stone;
banging with his fists, bashing with his shield.
The growling; roaring, growing like an endless thunder.
Oh, god, he’s coming. Help.
Still no answer, save the sound of heavy paws on stone.
And in a brief instant
The paws left the stone,
to tread air until it reached it’s goal.
His torch and shield both jumped from his hands
as he lay spread eagle on the ground
Furred claws tore at his chestplate,
tearing metal and flesh alike.
The rapid succession of strikes
sent his own blood splashing in his face.
The monster savored every shriek and cry
from the pathetic victim; cries none else could hear
or appreciate.
Taking pride in the open eyes, mouth and chest,
the beast retreated into the shadow,
silently
almost as quiet as the torch,
relinquishing it’s aegis against the dark.
Or the soul of a brave adventurer,
spilling and mixing in a pool of his own blood.
I’m always pressed for time; my life crumbles from the amount of stress I take on. It hurts, being under so much pressure. There aren’t enough hours in the day for what needs to be done. I’m pressed under the weight of the things I do; I’m under pressure.
She walked down the hallway
Pressed her hands to the rows of lockers
She wanted to scream
She wanted to be silent
A mixture of feelings—she’s overwhelmed
Her hands begin to throb
but she likes it
Pressing harder and harder,
letting the anger seep into the lockers
and out of her body and mind
i pressed the power button on the old remote control, my television set jumped to life, and shaving commercial blared. i turned it off, maybe t.v. isn’t what i needed at the moment. i walked to my kitchen, it had been recently painted red, the room feels different.
i unthaw frozez hummus, pull some naan bread from the fridge. voilà, dinner is made. i sit at my dining table alone. i need to get out of my house, i need to go out and feel different. life is consistant, contrary. i need more friends who like to do things, maybe i should have a dinner party. someone perhaps who also enjoys hummus and the colour red.
i check my caller-id, my mother has been calling for about a week straight, atleast two times a day. i don’t know why she is calling so often, but she doesn’t leave a message. i think for a moment that the right thing to do is to return her calls, i don’t know what i would talk to her about. i do know that she wouldn’t have anything positive to tell me.
so i skip over to my laptop and check my e-mails, these days my inbox is flooded with junk mail and coupons. i send out a few e-mails to old friends and co-workers, i would be thrilled if any of them decide to write me back. thrilled.
“Buy this one, purple makes your eyes look big.” Annie pressed her friend. “You know I hate purple.” Sarah replied haughtily. “Blue, then?”
pressed upon to do something great, defeat the impossible. pressed forward without thought or reasoning.
i feel pressed on all sides – by my job, by school, by my boyfriend. i don’t know what he wants, i just know that whatever it is i can’t give him. he presses me to commit more than i’m willing to commit, but at the same time i know that my fucked-up childhood has greatly skewed my willingness to commit, so i don’t trust myself anymore. i’m pressed on all sides by classwork that i have absolutely no fucking interest in.
Pressed down and no where to go except to you. Strictly physical relationship after 3 years of nothing, and 3 years of a strictly emotional relationship before that. This sounds like a good idea if we want to go no where fast…. Why are we falling into this trap? Why do I like it so much? Pressed down in this moment of just you and me, just our bodies… and thats all there is.
She pressed her hands to her forehead. Leaning against the cinder block wall, she looked up and down the street. She was waiting for someone, thought not sure who it was. Hopefully, though, they would make themselves known and would be able to help her properly.
being pressed against a wall, having his entire weight pushing against me, he hands in my hair, his lips over mine, his tongue probing my lips to open. Pressed into his being.
I felt pressed against the wall, pressed for time, pressed for breathe, for air. Pressed into a cooker that made me boil to the point of pressing forward. The only path to take.
Pressed for time. Pressed for space. Smashed up and beaten, society’s got me down. I’m out on a wire and without desire to carry on, expectations have me pressed to find an answer.
pressed against the wall, you are left with your final, most desperate, yet the words you want to speak the most. In the most stressful situations, one seems most plausible to word their feelings and share what they usually fight to cover up.
I’m pressed against the wall. No where to go. What is happening? How did I even get here? What do I do?
We are so pressed for time! There isn’t any time for chatter anymore, leaving us with our blood pressure too high, our heads aching, and our hearts racing. I don’t want to play anymore.
I’m pressed up against this wall I’ve mentally placed there.
A figment of my imagination, none the less.
But present, in the same.
What do I do?
Where do I go?
Which turn do I make?
I’m completely lost, as you press me for questions that I don’t know the answer is.
I don’t even know what day it is.
Pressed linens, pressed for time, and pressed grapes. So many meanings behind the word pressed.
I was pressed for time, I felt like Mario from those video games, just one second away from getting squished like a pancake under the gray thwomp things with the angry faces. Except my thwomp was time. I needed to finish this assignment before the bell rang, or else I’d get a 0~
pressed? hmmm that reminds me of my hahhahaha…..what idk this is kinda hard there just alot that been on my mind thats what pressed reminds me of
I pressed the buttons down until they snapped. I had pressed so hard that it left indents in my thumbs and they were red. My boyfriend pressed my decision as to what to watch on Netflix and how chocolately do I like it…
i was pressed up against the wall. breathing heavily. his scent was intoxicating, i couldnt let go of him. we were one. it was crazy, i never do these kinds of things, but i had never wanted something so bad in my life.
I pressed my shoulder into the wall as I felt the sadness crushing me. My heart was beating faster and faster, it was all I could do to try to calm myself down. Finally I let loose and cried. Losing control for the first time in years.
The train didn’t stop. The conductor didn’t see it. Already too late, the train just kept moving along, leaving behind a pressed, flat penny on the rails.
into tightness or like pants or permanent press something like that. i guess. tight spaces. pressed pants. there’s a tailor and zach who used to work at the dry cleaners. khakis
Pressed for answers, pressed for time. All negative connotations. Lets change it up a little and have you press me up against a wall and kiss me with passion. I’d like the term ‘pressed’ better then…