There are sixty seconds in a minute. That’s how long I’m allowed to be writing this for- a minute. A pretty small amount of time if you ask me. This is a minute of my life wasted, really- we’re all dying. Minute by minute. Slow and painful. You’re gonna die.
Seconds on my plate to finish or I’ll be late for desert. Everyone has to finished their seconds and then the afterlife is desert but I don’t want to be early for that desert.
these seconds go by and turn into minutes and minutes turn to hours and soon days have gone by and I haven’t seen you. I miss you, but these seconds mean nothing because they can’t mean anything. I’m leaving and we can’t be. We won’t.
seconds leave as soon as they arrive, and i can’t ever tell if i’m glad to see them go. like a friend you forgot you had and only see once every one, two, three, nine years, gone before you can take a full breath or blink an eye, but you’re left smiling because you needed that.
BLAH BLAH BLAH , TIME SUCKS, TIME IS INFINITE TIME PASSES, SECONDS COUNT, MINUTES MATTER, DAYS ARE WEEKS THAT ARE ONLY SECONDS IN RETROSPECT, TIME….SECONDS…DAYS….WEEKS
Seconds, minutes, hours, days, weeks, months, years.
They all lead up to the big picture. Whatever that may be for you.
It’s different for all of us. But in the end, the end of the road is love.
But it can be ruined in seconds. Just like everything in this life. All it takes is seconds and everything you’ve worked for can be gone.
I count the seconds,
they stretch,
each one seems like an eon
when you are away my love
Come and hold me in your arms
and the same seconds shall fly
faster than even light.
seconds again ripping out my heart and soul and seconds make minutes make hours and days and in days i will hold you again but for now the seconds hurt
seconds tick into minutes and each one is like a pin sticking in my heart each second hurts because we are apart and each minute means i have less time to wait until i speak to you again tomorrow and each hour means i am closer to holding you in a day or so so seconds may hurt but that will not last longer than another day seconds tick away
Time. It is what makes us human. measuring it, weighing it… We want to save it. make it, savour it. Let us take a SECONd and let it go, just take time to breathe.
What does it take to blow up one of the most ancient mountains on Earth? To decimate some of the most fertile soil in the world? Bury life giving streams beneath dirt and memory? Attack the identity of a people? Push the button that sets it all off? Give the word? Sign a paper? Start a war? Take a life- a thousand? Change the world forever? Change your mind? Lose your mind? Undo a lifetime or billions of years of work? Set it off, tear it apart, turn it around? Be irreparably altered by an action, inaction, or revelation when the world you thought you knew proves itself for something else or someone you know proves themselves for someone else? To lose all respect for yourself? Seconds.
time will never stop. The clock will continue, onwards towards an end that is not there. They slip between your fingers, like a breath you will never breath again, Make the most of them, every second, they are the sand at the beach that is your life.
I’m tired of the seconds ticking by. Life falls so short of my expectations. I find myself more and more wondering what the point of it all is. I watch moments drift by like oil on water never really connecting.
Sometimes I don’t get enough seconds in the day. There are big seconds and little seconds but never enough. Some seconds you want to trap and keep in your memory forever–that first kiss, and the hug of a toddler.
When I was about 12, we would have pasta for dinner often. Pasta with cheese, pasta with sauce, tuna casserole, lasagna, spaghetti, and so on. We would get a bowl of pasta, and the huge pot of the thing would be left in the middle of the table. I would finish my helping, and then I would reach for seconds. I became overweight by getting seconds and seconds and seconds and seconds.
Seconds are like death. They are not controllable. Once you have seconds, you can’t help but have thirds and fourths and fifths until you burst. Seconds are like the gateway away from heaven because they aren’t in themselves too bad, but they always lead to more.
It just take seconds to change a person’s life. In that time, one can go from being happy to completely sad, and vise versa….. Time matters. Pay attention.
how are you?i’m great
i like my friends.i don’t trust all peoplepretty giortsdhodhehwe
kind good helping
hard work
optimist
girl
support justice
women liker
Seconds. You have sixty seconds. The word itself sounds rushed, like you’re trying to get it out as fast as possible. It also kind of sounds like succumb if you rush it just right. That’s not good. I’m running out of time.
five seconds is all it took for the manager to let me know that what i thought and what i did didn’t matter and never had. he could have told me a year ago that i would never get the promotion but noooooo.
She had just flown in from Manila. It felt good to be back. She watched the yellow islands fly below her on the plane. Compared to the broken down shacks that she saw while she was flying over Manila, her hometown was a virtual paradise.
we have just seconds to live, he said. Then he turned to the highway and jumped off. I saw his shirt pillow out as the wind took him, and he flew, for those last two seconds. He flew and he tumbled and the traffic beneath him looked like the tiniest ants, and he hit bottom and I thought, My turn next.
Can I write something in sixty seconds about seconds? I don’t know. Do you have seconds at dinner? Have you ever bought something from a seconds store?
I want seconds, Lisa exclaimed even before she started the wonderful homecooked dinner her sister prepared. I have never had roasted artichokes the way you prepare them.
Not firsts, when everything’s new and you’re not sure where to go, or what to do. Too confusing and too many mistakes made.
Never thirds when everything’s too familiar, and bored or complacent now, you know too well where to go, and what to do.
Always seconds, when the freshness of firsts”never-been-here, and the thrill of firsts’ never-done-this lingers to consort with thirds’ well known and ordinary to bring comfort to the strange.
in the year she was born melissa was the second most popular name. happy with seconds she played second string sports, second seat in the band, settled for the it-girls’ castoff boys, went to a second-rate college, and took a job rated the second most stressful in the year she graduated. she took to back seat driving and let a passive agressive sun rule her planets. she thinks in twos, eats fruit in pairs, and has a number one life in a parallel universe.
“I can do it in sixty seconds flat,” Regina boasted as she climbed up the monkey bars. “No way,” Marc responded. “First, it can’t be done. Second, you’ll totally get caught.” “Just you watch.” Regina climbed down and loosened her limbs for a bit. “OK, ready? Now, time me.” She backed up a few paces, and at Marc’s “Go!” ran pell mell to the teacher’s lounge to steal Mrs. Johnson’s favorite eraser.
He took seconds of all the food on the buffet except for the beets which he’d read somewhere was genetically modified and he refused to eat genetically modified food unless it had somehow been bred together with hemp.
There’s got to be something more I can do. The seconds tick away and inane obstacles build themselves around my heart. Somebody please help.
There are sixty seconds in a minute. That’s how long I’m allowed to be writing this for- a minute. A pretty small amount of time if you ask me. This is a minute of my life wasted, really- we’re all dying. Minute by minute. Slow and painful. You’re gonna die.
Seconds on my plate to finish or I’ll be late for desert. Everyone has to finished their seconds and then the afterlife is desert but I don’t want to be early for that desert.
these seconds go by and turn into minutes and minutes turn to hours and soon days have gone by and I haven’t seen you. I miss you, but these seconds mean nothing because they can’t mean anything. I’m leaving and we can’t be. We won’t.
seconds leave as soon as they arrive, and i can’t ever tell if i’m glad to see them go. like a friend you forgot you had and only see once every one, two, three, nine years, gone before you can take a full breath or blink an eye, but you’re left smiling because you needed that.
Time fly. 50 days to go… and we’ll have our daughter in our arms.
BLAH BLAH BLAH , TIME SUCKS, TIME IS INFINITE TIME PASSES, SECONDS COUNT, MINUTES MATTER, DAYS ARE WEEKS THAT ARE ONLY SECONDS IN RETROSPECT, TIME….SECONDS…DAYS….WEEKS
every second you get older wiser and thorugh these seconds come minutes, hours.
Seconds, minutes, hours, days, weeks, months, years.
They all lead up to the big picture. Whatever that may be for you.
It’s different for all of us. But in the end, the end of the road is love.
But it can be ruined in seconds. Just like everything in this life. All it takes is seconds and everything you’ve worked for can be gone.
There were bare seconds, sparsely padded and sliding by far too quickly, between them. Smoke rose between their sprinting forms.
She ran as if in slow motion. She couldn’t seem to find the ground.
His mouth was twisted into a snarl; his eyes dark, intent.
“I love you,” she screamed.
And the smoke rose up to consume them.
invthese secondss we r get the problems so we not to gg
I count the seconds,
they stretch,
each one seems like an eon
when you are away my love
Come and hold me in your arms
and the same seconds shall fly
faster than even light.
seconds again ripping out my heart and soul and seconds make minutes make hours and days and in days i will hold you again but for now the seconds hurt
seconds tick into minutes and each one is like a pin sticking in my heart each second hurts because we are apart and each minute means i have less time to wait until i speak to you again tomorrow and each hour means i am closer to holding you in a day or so so seconds may hurt but that will not last longer than another day seconds tick away
Time. It is what makes us human. measuring it, weighing it… We want to save it. make it, savour it. Let us take a SECONd and let it go, just take time to breathe.
What does it take to blow up one of the most ancient mountains on Earth? To decimate some of the most fertile soil in the world? Bury life giving streams beneath dirt and memory? Attack the identity of a people? Push the button that sets it all off? Give the word? Sign a paper? Start a war? Take a life- a thousand? Change the world forever? Change your mind? Lose your mind? Undo a lifetime or billions of years of work? Set it off, tear it apart, turn it around? Be irreparably altered by an action, inaction, or revelation when the world you thought you knew proves itself for something else or someone you know proves themselves for someone else? To lose all respect for yourself? Seconds.
time will never stop. The clock will continue, onwards towards an end that is not there. They slip between your fingers, like a breath you will never breath again, Make the most of them, every second, they are the sand at the beach that is your life.
It only took seconds for me to fall into the black hole that lives in my head. It will take much longer to climb my way out.
I’m tired of the seconds ticking by. Life falls so short of my expectations. I find myself more and more wondering what the point of it all is. I watch moments drift by like oil on water never really connecting.
that time when you wake up, and you’re barely alive. you wait for your eyes to catch up with your brain. there’s sun outside.
Sometimes I don’t get enough seconds in the day. There are big seconds and little seconds but never enough. Some seconds you want to trap and keep in your memory forever–that first kiss, and the hug of a toddler.
i only have 60. seriously, i have like, more than i can think of. sometimes i feel like i have none. death upon me.
There were only seconds left. Linda jumped into the cockpit, grabbed the steering yoke, and pulled back – hard.
The plane veered violently upward. Max G hit her like a building at high speed.
Just a few…
In a kiss that lasts only seconds, you manage to put a years worth of suffering into my heart.
When I was about 12, we would have pasta for dinner often. Pasta with cheese, pasta with sauce, tuna casserole, lasagna, spaghetti, and so on. We would get a bowl of pasta, and the huge pot of the thing would be left in the middle of the table. I would finish my helping, and then I would reach for seconds. I became overweight by getting seconds and seconds and seconds and seconds.
Seconds are like death. They are not controllable. Once you have seconds, you can’t help but have thirds and fourths and fifths until you burst. Seconds are like the gateway away from heaven because they aren’t in themselves too bad, but they always lead to more.
It just take seconds to change a person’s life. In that time, one can go from being happy to completely sad, and vise versa….. Time matters. Pay attention.
how are you?i’m great
i like my friends.i don’t trust all peoplepretty giortsdhodhehwe
kind good helping
hard work
optimist
girl
support justice
women liker
Seconds. You have sixty seconds. The word itself sounds rushed, like you’re trying to get it out as fast as possible. It also kind of sounds like succumb if you rush it just right. That’s not good. I’m running out of time.
seconds are counting down, never stopping- time is flying by-never pausing –
five seconds is all it took for the manager to let me know that what i thought and what i did didn’t matter and never had. he could have told me a year ago that i would never get the promotion but noooooo.
She had just flown in from Manila. It felt good to be back. She watched the yellow islands fly below her on the plane. Compared to the broken down shacks that she saw while she was flying over Manila, her hometown was a virtual paradise.
not enough in the day… I wonder if I feel the day with enough goodness. Are my kids happy and do I do enough.
we have just seconds to live, he said. Then he turned to the highway and jumped off. I saw his shirt pillow out as the wind took him, and he flew, for those last two seconds. He flew and he tumbled and the traffic beneath him looked like the tiniest ants, and he hit bottom and I thought, My turn next.
Can I write something in sixty seconds about seconds? I don’t know. Do you have seconds at dinner? Have you ever bought something from a seconds store?
I want seconds, Lisa exclaimed even before she started the wonderful homecooked dinner her sister prepared. I have never had roasted artichokes the way you prepare them.
Not firsts, when everything’s new and you’re not sure where to go, or what to do. Too confusing and too many mistakes made.
Never thirds when everything’s too familiar, and bored or complacent now, you know too well where to go, and what to do.
Always seconds, when the freshness of firsts”never-been-here, and the thrill of firsts’ never-done-this lingers to consort with thirds’ well known and ordinary to bring comfort to the strange.
It’s always seconds that’s the best.
in the year she was born melissa was the second most popular name. happy with seconds she played second string sports, second seat in the band, settled for the it-girls’ castoff boys, went to a second-rate college, and took a job rated the second most stressful in the year she graduated. she took to back seat driving and let a passive agressive sun rule her planets. she thinks in twos, eats fruit in pairs, and has a number one life in a parallel universe.
“I can do it in sixty seconds flat,” Regina boasted as she climbed up the monkey bars. “No way,” Marc responded. “First, it can’t be done. Second, you’ll totally get caught.” “Just you watch.” Regina climbed down and loosened her limbs for a bit. “OK, ready? Now, time me.” She backed up a few paces, and at Marc’s “Go!” ran pell mell to the teacher’s lounge to steal Mrs. Johnson’s favorite eraser.
I wish I could speak to you for a few more seconds.
He took seconds of all the food on the buffet except for the beets which he’d read somewhere was genetically modified and he refused to eat genetically modified food unless it had somehow been bred together with hemp.