The cat nestled down deeper in the comforter, his hind paw a slight pressure on my throat. My elbows ached, holding myself an inch before fully laying down, but I couldn’t bear to jostle the tiny tiny awake.
What peace I find when I am resting! And then my mind starts to race about the things I should be doing instead of just resting… and then I don’t feel so rested anymore. Maybe I should rest from resting for just a while.
“Don’t do it. You’re gonna fall asleep on me,” she accused knowingly.
“Just give me 10 minutes. I’m just resting my eyes,” I assured. But within seconds, I doz–
Resting – the final semblance of release from a day full of monotonous, droning onward and onward routine. Resting is the harbinger of sleep, and the far distant cousin of death. Resting is the only way to find that sweet release of shut eye without the finality of sleep.
Uncompromising and hard, the boardroom chairs weren’t exactly comfortable. Still, it was better than fetching coffee and playing private secretary to entitled snot-nosed lawyer big shots. As one of the senior partners droned on about annual review numbers, Cheryl closed her eyes a little and pretended to write.
I am in office and resting right now! That’s a great thing because just as our body, our brain needs rest too. Lets make it a point to spare at least 5-10 minutes every hour, close the eyes and rest the brains!
I was tired, now I am resting. Rest is the passive form of the word “rest”. It is used to describe someone or something which is actively partaking in the act or being at rest. I should be resting, because I haven’t slept. It’s 4am. I am working on an assignement for college, but should be resting. I wish I was resting. That’s life. Resting forever.
How can I truly rest if I cannot shut off the thoughts in my mind. When I try to shut out all the things on my mind, the thoughts begin to race. If I cannot shut off the racing thoughts, I will continue to be tired all the time.
How can I truly rest if I cannot let go of the things on my mind. I try so hard to shut out the thoughts, but all that seems to do is make my thoughts race. If I cannot rest, I will continue to be tired all the time.
“It’s what I should be doing now,” he thought to himself. Only twenty percent battery left on the phone and no real tasks to complete; 2:21 in the morning was a reasonable time to pass out, wasn’t it?
sunday.
you were like sunday to me.
soft and full and sweet and good–
you would raise your hands, a
conductor, and sing and laugh and
speak all of the good things i
waited so long to hear.
on sundays you spoke God, and
on sundays i saw you both.
it’s hard for me to tell
if i’ve ever rested since then.
Lilyah didn’t belong here, in this land of wind and sand. She was a child of the Blackmoors, a daughter of the wilder places and that Sabriel has no choice but to name this her final resting place feels something like a betrayal.
She should have protected her; she’d promised she would.
But, in the end, all the words in the realm weren’t weighty enough to stop a well-placed arrow.
What should have been a short break, a temporary pause, has become a prolonged passivity. I do nothing, I say nothing, I think of nothing. I’m a coward, who is hiding from the world.
I’ve been resting for so long, and I’m not entirely sure from what. I say I need a break, a moment to relax. But that moment stopped being a moment, and has turned into a prolonged period. I’m stuck in an impasse.
The man on the porch closes his eyes, overall straps falling down and softly hitting the solid glass of the frozen lemonade. His eyes jerk open, as he starts to reach for a gun, then closes them again with a placid smile, as his pupils re-dialate to the darkness he can only possess himself. The sun beats down on this plaid shirt, 80 years only carving delicate wrinkles into his pale skin.
Resting is restful. But sometimes stressful. If you can’t rest and you want to. But also because resting means that you have to listen to the thoughts in your head. Sometimes the thoughts are sitting in the hunch in your back and the only way to get them out and stand tall is to listen.
Stop. Stop. I’m serious, it’s time to stop. Your father is fine, he’s just resting. It’s been a difficult day and he needs to sleep until he’s better.
“But he won’t ever feel better” I screamed! “He is just going to die if we don’t wake him up”
He’s going to die if we DO wake him up, she sneered.
sleep.
he told me and i
tried to close my eyes but
the sun kept
burning, burning,
burning through and i
wept.
sleep? i
asked and he
sighed, and knelt beside me and
put his fingers to my eyes and
laid them down cool and soft–
not just sleep, he said,
that’s not really what i mean.
i mean for you to rest, if
you can, it’s been
so difficult,
hasn’t it?
Resting keyboards on my lap, I scan the words on the monitor and I try to take them all in, but they fail me or better yet, I fail them. I can’t understand them and they don’t speak to me and I wonder, who is at fault here? They, the words, or me… and I fear it is me. And I set the keyboard back
sleep now child before the sun rises. rest your head and let the darkness draw you in. feel the calm rise over you. there’s nothing to fear. the darkness will recede. death will not come today. you will rise once again, whole and hale. feel the touch of peace wind through your limbs, ease your mind, calm your fears
I was resting on the sidewalk one day when a man came up to me and told me about a magic lamp. The lamp could transport you anywhere you wanted to go on one condition: Someone you loved would forget everything about you. “Would you be willing to take the risk?” asked the man.
The woman in red was tired. The walk back to the car had taken most of her energy, and she had been forced to stop several times; her twisted ankle making her hiss in pain.
She didn’t know if she could drive to the next light tonight, let alone across the country. Her hands gripped the steering wheel to stop from shaking, slipping slightly on the leather. She looked in the mirror, irritably flicking away something stuck in her hair. Dandruff, dirt, brain matter: it didn’t really matter, not anymore.
She had made her choice as soon as she saw that Colt .45 in it’s case, jet black and pure sex, a siren’s call of power and destruction. Everything else was just epilogue; the bullet to Jessie’s head the final period.
The woman in red turned the key in it’s ignition and the truck roared to life. As Smokey used to say: she had a long way to go, and a short time to get there.
She leans back against the bedpost and lets out an agitated sigh, whispers of cigarette smoke circling up to the ceiling. Her head moves slowly, rotating and stretching, the kinks in her neck painstakingly unravel themselves. Sunlight streams through the solitary window, particles of dust illuminated like snowflakes. It’s been a long night, bed springs and floorboards creaking like imaginary ghosts, and other peoples lives seeping through the flimsy walls. She closes her eyes in the early dawn, allowing herself this momentary peace.
At long last. At the end of what she could only remember as being a hellish desert stretch of twothree weeks. She couldn’t remember seeing her bedroom in days and had started to think it had been imagined since the beginning.
“I’m just resting!” I tried to complain, but already I was being hoisted out of bed, thrown into a stiff, unyielding suit, and practically wheeled out of the room. I knew that this family reunion was important to my father, but that was the main problem I had: It was important ONLY to my father. As I was sandwiched between my brother and sister in the backseat of my parents’ Volvo, I was becoming convinced that the only way to get through this day was begging my grandfather to let me sneak sips of port from his glass when my mother wasn’t looking.
He looked like he was only resting, Tadashi mused. He looked peaceful, his soft smile not holding any of the animosity that it has held for the past two years (and before that too, but he didn’t fully remember until now).
Figures, once he regained every semblance of memory from before the fire, his world would burn to a crisp once more.
Tadashi’s fingers shakily traced the scar running across the teenager’s youthful face, the uneven skin a bleak reminder of a distorted reality. His tears mixed with the blood barely still pooling on the child’s (he was sixteen, still only a child, still so fragile) stomach, merely draining because there was no blood pumping through his body.
He held his baby brother, the one who’d finally broken free of the darkness only to fall further in, and sobbed.
sleeping with the one you love. completely embossed with one another. there’s nothing but the two of you in the entire universe, or for the two of you, the small bedroom and twin sized bed you’re rested upon. there’s nothing more blissful and completely comfortable with laying down and resting with someone who means so much to you.
I love resting!i rest on my couch or in bed or even with my friends. we go out and bike in beautiful places full of extraordinary greenery next to the sea and then we jog until we can’t jog any more. And then i rest with music. this is the best way to rest.
she’s currently resting
laying in wait
don’t disturb her stasis
she resides somewhere between living
and destroying
that look in her eyes is easily
mistaken
do not break her gaze
do not break
he said that he was just resting the time he lay down so i’ve been resting too for the past few hours even though it’s getting cold even though he always said that when it gets dark i have to run. i have to run.
but he said that he was resting and he hates it when i wake him up and he isn’t having the nightmares like he usually does so i can’t wake him up.
he isn’t moving at all so he’s resting well, and his body is getting cold, but he’s just resting and he’ll be up before sunrise tomorrow so i’ll just wait with him until he wakes up.
The cat nestled down deeper in the comforter, his hind paw a slight pressure on my throat. My elbows ached, holding myself an inch before fully laying down, but I couldn’t bear to jostle the tiny tiny awake.
What peace I find when I am resting! And then my mind starts to race about the things I should be doing instead of just resting… and then I don’t feel so rested anymore. Maybe I should rest from resting for just a while.
“Don’t do it. You’re gonna fall asleep on me,” she accused knowingly.
“Just give me 10 minutes. I’m just resting my eyes,” I assured. But within seconds, I doz–
Resting – the final semblance of release from a day full of monotonous, droning onward and onward routine. Resting is the harbinger of sleep, and the far distant cousin of death. Resting is the only way to find that sweet release of shut eye without the finality of sleep.
I was resting after soccer practice. It made me tired running around the field playing soccer. Soccer is my favorite sport
Uncompromising and hard, the boardroom chairs weren’t exactly comfortable. Still, it was better than fetching coffee and playing private secretary to entitled snot-nosed lawyer big shots. As one of the senior partners droned on about annual review numbers, Cheryl closed her eyes a little and pretended to write.
snooze you lose.
I am in office and resting right now! That’s a great thing because just as our body, our brain needs rest too. Lets make it a point to spare at least 5-10 minutes every hour, close the eyes and rest the brains!
I was tired, now I am resting. Rest is the passive form of the word “rest”. It is used to describe someone or something which is actively partaking in the act or being at rest. I should be resting, because I haven’t slept. It’s 4am. I am working on an assignement for college, but should be resting. I wish I was resting. That’s life. Resting forever.
How can I truly rest if I cannot shut off the thoughts in my mind. When I try to shut out all the things on my mind, the thoughts begin to race. If I cannot shut off the racing thoughts, I will continue to be tired all the time.
How can I truly rest if I cannot let go of the things on my mind. I try so hard to shut out the thoughts, but all that seems to do is make my thoughts race. If I cannot rest, I will continue to be tired all the time.
At peace, at rest.
Night time murmurs,
and a soft caress.
“It’s what I should be doing now,” he thought to himself. Only twenty percent battery left on the phone and no real tasks to complete; 2:21 in the morning was a reasonable time to pass out, wasn’t it?
Resting peacefully and softly listening dreaming praying all possibilities are there
sunday.
you were like sunday to me.
soft and full and sweet and good–
you would raise your hands, a
conductor, and sing and laugh and
speak all of the good things i
waited so long to hear.
on sundays you spoke God, and
on sundays i saw you both.
it’s hard for me to tell
if i’ve ever rested since then.
Lilyah didn’t belong here, in this land of wind and sand. She was a child of the Blackmoors, a daughter of the wilder places and that Sabriel has no choice but to name this her final resting place feels something like a betrayal.
She should have protected her; she’d promised she would.
But, in the end, all the words in the realm weren’t weighty enough to stop a well-placed arrow.
What should have been a short break, a temporary pause, has become a prolonged passivity. I do nothing, I say nothing, I think of nothing. I’m a coward, who is hiding from the world.
I’ve been resting for so long, and I’m not entirely sure from what. I say I need a break, a moment to relax. But that moment stopped being a moment, and has turned into a prolonged period. I’m stuck in an impasse.
The man on the porch closes his eyes, overall straps falling down and softly hitting the solid glass of the frozen lemonade. His eyes jerk open, as he starts to reach for a gun, then closes them again with a placid smile, as his pupils re-dialate to the darkness he can only possess himself. The sun beats down on this plaid shirt, 80 years only carving delicate wrinkles into his pale skin.
Resting is restful. But sometimes stressful. If you can’t rest and you want to. But also because resting means that you have to listen to the thoughts in your head. Sometimes the thoughts are sitting in the hunch in your back and the only way to get them out and stand tall is to listen.
Stop. Stop. I’m serious, it’s time to stop. Your father is fine, he’s just resting. It’s been a difficult day and he needs to sleep until he’s better.
“But he won’t ever feel better” I screamed! “He is just going to die if we don’t wake him up”
He’s going to die if we DO wake him up, she sneered.
sleep.
he told me and i
tried to close my eyes but
the sun kept
burning, burning,
burning through and i
wept.
sleep? i
asked and he
sighed, and knelt beside me and
put his fingers to my eyes and
laid them down cool and soft–
not just sleep, he said,
that’s not really what i mean.
i mean for you to rest, if
you can, it’s been
so difficult,
hasn’t it?
Resting keyboards on my lap, I scan the words on the monitor and I try to take them all in, but they fail me or better yet, I fail them. I can’t understand them and they don’t speak to me and I wonder, who is at fault here? They, the words, or me… and I fear it is me. And I set the keyboard back
thanks
sleep now child before the sun rises. rest your head and let the darkness draw you in. feel the calm rise over you. there’s nothing to fear. the darkness will recede. death will not come today. you will rise once again, whole and hale. feel the touch of peace wind through your limbs, ease your mind, calm your fears
I was resting on the sidewalk one day when a man came up to me and told me about a magic lamp. The lamp could transport you anywhere you wanted to go on one condition: Someone you loved would forget everything about you. “Would you be willing to take the risk?” asked the man.
The woman in red was tired. The walk back to the car had taken most of her energy, and she had been forced to stop several times; her twisted ankle making her hiss in pain.
She didn’t know if she could drive to the next light tonight, let alone across the country. Her hands gripped the steering wheel to stop from shaking, slipping slightly on the leather. She looked in the mirror, irritably flicking away something stuck in her hair. Dandruff, dirt, brain matter: it didn’t really matter, not anymore.
She had made her choice as soon as she saw that Colt .45 in it’s case, jet black and pure sex, a siren’s call of power and destruction. Everything else was just epilogue; the bullet to Jessie’s head the final period.
The woman in red turned the key in it’s ignition and the truck roared to life. As Smokey used to say: she had a long way to go, and a short time to get there.
She leans back against the bedpost and lets out an agitated sigh, whispers of cigarette smoke circling up to the ceiling. Her head moves slowly, rotating and stretching, the kinks in her neck painstakingly unravel themselves. Sunlight streams through the solitary window, particles of dust illuminated like snowflakes. It’s been a long night, bed springs and floorboards creaking like imaginary ghosts, and other peoples lives seeping through the flimsy walls. She closes her eyes in the early dawn, allowing herself this momentary peace.
At long last. At the end of what she could only remember as being a hellish desert stretch of twothree weeks. She couldn’t remember seeing her bedroom in days and had started to think it had been imagined since the beginning.
But finally. She was back.
Rest sleep slumber leap into a bed or leaves stolen by thieves that steal zzzzs up high in the trees
When you sleep.
Now, the only one think that I really want to do is rest, because resting I can imagine a lot of things about my day!
now, I’m resting!!
“I’m just resting!” I tried to complain, but already I was being hoisted out of bed, thrown into a stiff, unyielding suit, and practically wheeled out of the room. I knew that this family reunion was important to my father, but that was the main problem I had: It was important ONLY to my father. As I was sandwiched between my brother and sister in the backseat of my parents’ Volvo, I was becoming convinced that the only way to get through this day was begging my grandfather to let me sneak sips of port from his glass when my mother wasn’t looking.
He looked like he was only resting, Tadashi mused. He looked peaceful, his soft smile not holding any of the animosity that it has held for the past two years (and before that too, but he didn’t fully remember until now).
Figures, once he regained every semblance of memory from before the fire, his world would burn to a crisp once more.
Tadashi’s fingers shakily traced the scar running across the teenager’s youthful face, the uneven skin a bleak reminder of a distorted reality. His tears mixed with the blood barely still pooling on the child’s (he was sixteen, still only a child, still so fragile) stomach, merely draining because there was no blood pumping through his body.
He held his baby brother, the one who’d finally broken free of the darkness only to fall further in, and sobbed.
It wasn’t fair.
sleeping with the one you love. completely embossed with one another. there’s nothing but the two of you in the entire universe, or for the two of you, the small bedroom and twin sized bed you’re rested upon. there’s nothing more blissful and completely comfortable with laying down and resting with someone who means so much to you.
I love resting!i rest on my couch or in bed or even with my friends. we go out and bike in beautiful places full of extraordinary greenery next to the sea and then we jog until we can’t jog any more. And then i rest with music. this is the best way to rest.
It’s good to rest. Resting is like having a vacation away from everything and everyone. It is the time when all you need to do is be still.
Sitting, reading, walking, still is difficult. In this day and age of always being available, resting is a necessary part of our day; life; and need.
she’s currently resting
laying in wait
don’t disturb her stasis
she resides somewhere between living
and destroying
that look in her eyes is easily
mistaken
do not break her gaze
do not break
he said that he was just resting the time he lay down so i’ve been resting too for the past few hours even though it’s getting cold even though he always said that when it gets dark i have to run. i have to run.
but he said that he was resting and he hates it when i wake him up and he isn’t having the nightmares like he usually does so i can’t wake him up.
he isn’t moving at all so he’s resting well, and his body is getting cold, but he’s just resting and he’ll be up before sunrise tomorrow so i’ll just wait with him until he wakes up.