Students are supposed to have a spiral for each class. SUPPOSED to. But that rarely happens. If I donated as much money to the homeless, as I do paper to my students, I would have ended poverty and famine a long time ago. But… one problem at a time, I suppose…
it just kept getting worse. there was nothing to hold onto because everything there was a part of the problem, we got sucked down with him – we might as well have been doing everything he was doing because it didn’t matter.
The student was alread in a downward spiral. Feeling very frustrated and not smart he felt there was really little reason to try. He totally was in a state of learned helpness. Unfortunately, this would be very hard to turn around.
One choice, just one, out if the plethora of options. You step, and then the path beckons you to step again. Whether darkness or light, joyous or full or death it spirals, and spirals and spirals. It is delicate this life, with many twists and turns. Spiralling, taking us to the core. Grabbing at us demanding everything. Where will it take us? This spiral.
The idea never even crossed my mind that something like this could ever happen. the thought that after everything that I’d done this was what it all came down to. the spiralling motion of me losing control just grew faster and faster as I watched the last breath escape your body.
THE SPIRAL OR THE PHONE CHORD WAS HYPNOTIC AS SHE TWIRLED IT AROUND AND AROUND HER FINGERS. THE CONVERSATION ON THE OTHER END OF THE LINE STOPPED INTERESTING HER MINUTES AGO BUT IT WASNT WHAT HAD CAUGHT HER UNDIVIDED ATTENTION.
The waters fell. She gasped, scouring the darkness of the depths, helplessly floating in the absence that surrounded her. The deafening grumble of the sea was crushing her eardrums, but at the same time it was lulling her towards the end, gentle as a mother’s caress. She closed her eyes.
Her senses spiraled at once and her consciousness rebelled.
The surface was lost.
She drew glitter-glue spirals on the photo for his face, for dizziness, put a big question mark over his head, for confusion. She blew on it so that it dried, and then tacked it to her bulletin board.
The world started to spin around Dan, like someone had reached into his eyes and was spinning his brain like a top, or Frisbee. His head felt heavy, so he sank to his knees, cutting them on the concrete. He looked around and thought, where am I? He was on his way to class but now nothing looked familiar. He couldn’t remember how he got here.
She could feel it there, trapped in the spiral cage of her DNA. Something slow and noxious, waiting to trace its vile path through her veins uninhibited.
The first time I got waterlogged, I thought it was an incredible experience. I had rode the waves with nothing but my body, twisting with the water. This particular part of the beach had the bottom completely covered in shells rather than soft sand, and my body scrapped again them as the waves pushed me in shallower water. Although it initially felt like tiny cuts all over my body, I later realized there was barely a scratch. After becoming waterlogged, though, the scrapping feeling of my skin against the sharp shell edges was the only thing telling me I wasn’t in a waking dream, and even the the scrapes all over my body were beginning to doubt if this was reality.
A spiraling, twisting, turning, vertiginous tale. Two threads of deceit and love, intertwined, never meeting. Downward the ever-turning, up-down-up-down whirl of light/dark confusion/clarity truth/lies, down down down
Her spiral notebook was never far from her side … and it was the spiral notebook Jonathan saw first, in the gutter by the grass that had made a soft landing for her broken body.
round and fluffy i like to think abut it as a bouncy thing and its grately found in toys and is round and round you know it has a stort and maybe an end who knows spiral fils good to my tongue
A falling down of the walls around me. It’s a rebirth, not a failure. I can feel the breeze as renewal rushes over me. Of what adventures will I dream in this resurgence of myself. I wish to grow.
Sea shells, spiraling into a vortex. Her eyes, endless. The stairs she slipped down. Tumbling, endlessly.
The ocean doesn’t feel sad, she’d said. It is too beautiful to be sad.
But isn’t beautiful a certain kind of sad? I’d asked her. The answer was written on her face, carved painstakingly from each misunderstanding, each time she was pushed away.
It’s not like an ocean has feelings. It’s lucky, she’d said.
It was all in a downward spiral now, lost to the vast and complex abyss beneath. His ship one with the sea, maybe he could find happiness in this world. Maybe now…
you go and you go and you go, like a bird up and down an elm. like a teenage girl in italy who savors the catcalls, thinking they’re for her alone. you are tragic but beautiful but tragic still, and you spin in circles until there’s nowhere left to go.
The irony of the evening was not lost on her. She waited with her friends at the bottom of the spiral staircase, giggling and chatting nervously when she saw him, regal and perfect, appear at the top.
all i remember about the girl was her hair. every other detail has escaped me but her hair, oddly enough. endless strawberry blonde spirals down her back. smell of flowers and bouncier than a trampoline. amnesia sure is killer
For a while I thought I was in a downward spiral. I was making all the wrong decisions and I couldn’t seem to stop myself. I figured it was okay, though, as long as it didn’t go on for too long. So I let it pass, eventually seeing the error of my ways with enough clarity to truly want to change.
Don’t let go, don’t let go. Look at me. Look at me. It’s happening now — it’s happening fast. Stay strong, stay calm. Look at me. You will be okay. You will be fine. I love you. You are everything you need. Do not look back. Do not look behind you. Do not think about me, do not think about us. You will be okay. Just believe me. Trust me, if you ever loved me, if you ever believed anything about us or this life, just believe me. You will be okay. Okay? Do you understand? Okay. You can let go, now. Baby, it’s time to let go.
I’m spiraling out of control. No one knows who I am. i don’t even know who I am. It’s like the world has erased me from itself. Maybe I am dead. Is death this cold? This lonesome? Or maybe I’m just lost and insane. Yes, that’s it. I am lost in the woods. Stupid. I should have never ran away.
sprialing out of control. spinning and spinning. thats how the game goes. m.a.s.h. the game determining your future. may the odds ever be in your favor!
the slinky spirals across the class room. This is high school physics. Mr. Marx is talking about physics. Physics, physics, gravity, force, force of gravity. None of which are things that are given meaning besides spreading the endlessly spiraling slinky across a stark high school class room. Feelings of literal despair over a slinky spiral through the room.
Time. A strange concept; Ticking faster when there is joy, slowing to molasses as the bad infects our lives. It spirals into nothingness, meaninglessness, and the question is raised: Will I have enough?
The fraction divides and divides, like leaves of a fern, twisting and spinning and coming down in fractions, so small that you need a microscope to see them. The patterns repeat over and over and never end and it’s all about the math
My hands trembled as I slowly stood, shock washing over me like a wave. I just killed a human being with my bare hands. He was there, sprawled on the floor, unmoving, blood oozing from the spot on his back where I’d planted the knife. How things had come to this, I’d never know…this downward spiral of my life amazed and angered me at the same time. I was a murderer, and if you’d had told me that not even a month ago I would’ve called you crazy.
one wd is action, I want to take action in liffe, not as a spectator buts a participant in life, to movforward and work to make a difference in the world, at work and with the people around me.
I feel like I’m losing control. Nothing on this planet ever goes right. My heart is beating a million miles a second and the light in this room is so excruciatingly bright that I can’t even think. What has become of my life? Just yesterday I felt like I had everything under control. Now look at me! I have wings, antennae and everything else is being pulled out from underneath me.
The spiral into darkness of spirit can happen quickly or very, very slowly. One misstep at a time. One drink or hit…and you have one foot on a slippery slope into the abyss. And no one can dig you out. There are short cuts, no do overs or easy outs…so think carefully about what you chose in life. Who are you and what did you come here to do? That is the only question you need to answer for yourself…
The cloud spun in the sky, swirling around lazily and catching her eye. It reminded her of an apple peel, or a lollipop. Smiling, she reached her fingers up to the sky and closed it into a fist, as if capturing it.
And it all went downhill from there. First the skipping school, the the alcohol, then the drugs, sweet syrup shooting in his veins and fairy dust in neat lines on the table. Everything was reflected by mirrors and folded in half by glass. Everything became green- pot, money, the green dots in his vision, the scrubs of the nurses that picked him up after every bad trip.
He had slipped into a whirlpool, and there was no use to save himself from drowning while in that deep.
Spiraling into the void, I reconsidered my decision for the first time. The sand chafing at my skin became softer and softer until I turned to glass. Looking at my hand, I saw a million scintillating glimmers as the last light passed through. Breakable, I set to destroying. This was my cross.
She walked and walked and walked, down the seemingly never-ending staircase. The trip was dressed with images against the beige walls. At the top were images of psychedelic colors, ones that humans would never be able to compose. The psychedelic images began to fade as she went on, one thing gone after the next. When she finally reached the lobby, the canvases were vacant.
Estoy perdida en una espiral de ideas que no puedo desarrollar.
Tengo tantas idea que no se por donde empezar, estoy en medio de esta espiral de ideas….estoy completa y totalmente PERDIDA
No se que hacer, pero se que lo voy a a superar y voy a hacer de esa espiral una linea recta por la cual seguir caminando.
Students are supposed to have a spiral for each class. SUPPOSED to. But that rarely happens. If I donated as much money to the homeless, as I do paper to my students, I would have ended poverty and famine a long time ago. But… one problem at a time, I suppose…
it just kept getting worse. there was nothing to hold onto because everything there was a part of the problem, we got sucked down with him – we might as well have been doing everything he was doing because it didn’t matter.
Helen was severely depressed and anxious. She was living on the edge and her life was a downward spiral.
The student was alread in a downward spiral. Feeling very frustrated and not smart he felt there was really little reason to try. He totally was in a state of learned helpness. Unfortunately, this would be very hard to turn around.
One choice, just one, out if the plethora of options. You step, and then the path beckons you to step again. Whether darkness or light, joyous or full or death it spirals, and spirals and spirals. It is delicate this life, with many twists and turns. Spiralling, taking us to the core. Grabbing at us demanding everything. Where will it take us? This spiral.
his trajectory was diminishing into a lightheaded free fall
The idea never even crossed my mind that something like this could ever happen. the thought that after everything that I’d done this was what it all came down to. the spiralling motion of me losing control just grew faster and faster as I watched the last breath escape your body.
THE SPIRAL OR THE PHONE CHORD WAS HYPNOTIC AS SHE TWIRLED IT AROUND AND AROUND HER FINGERS. THE CONVERSATION ON THE OTHER END OF THE LINE STOPPED INTERESTING HER MINUTES AGO BUT IT WASNT WHAT HAD CAUGHT HER UNDIVIDED ATTENTION.
The waters fell. She gasped, scouring the darkness of the depths, helplessly floating in the absence that surrounded her. The deafening grumble of the sea was crushing her eardrums, but at the same time it was lulling her towards the end, gentle as a mother’s caress. She closed her eyes.
Her senses spiraled at once and her consciousness rebelled.
The surface was lost.
spiral stairs to divination tower
led the logic becomes flour dust
the death is only the matter of hours
secrets, to whom you trust?
spiral stairs will come this year
led the green turn out to be rotten
for others despair becomes cheers
remember for me you won’t be forgotten
She drew glitter-glue spirals on the photo for his face, for dizziness, put a big question mark over his head, for confusion. She blew on it so that it dried, and then tacked it to her bulletin board.
The world started to spin around Dan, like someone had reached into his eyes and was spinning his brain like a top, or Frisbee. His head felt heavy, so he sank to his knees, cutting them on the concrete. He looked around and thought, where am I? He was on his way to class but now nothing looked familiar. He couldn’t remember how he got here.
She could feel it there, trapped in the spiral cage of her DNA. Something slow and noxious, waiting to trace its vile path through her veins uninhibited.
The first time I got waterlogged, I thought it was an incredible experience. I had rode the waves with nothing but my body, twisting with the water. This particular part of the beach had the bottom completely covered in shells rather than soft sand, and my body scrapped again them as the waves pushed me in shallower water. Although it initially felt like tiny cuts all over my body, I later realized there was barely a scratch. After becoming waterlogged, though, the scrapping feeling of my skin against the sharp shell edges was the only thing telling me I wasn’t in a waking dream, and even the the scrapes all over my body were beginning to doubt if this was reality.
A spiraling, twisting, turning, vertiginous tale. Two threads of deceit and love, intertwined, never meeting. Downward the ever-turning, up-down-up-down whirl of light/dark confusion/clarity truth/lies, down down down
Up
Her spiral notebook was never far from her side … and it was the spiral notebook Jonathan saw first, in the gutter by the grass that had made a soft landing for her broken body.
round and fluffy i like to think abut it as a bouncy thing and its grately found in toys and is round and round you know it has a stort and maybe an end who knows spiral fils good to my tongue
A falling down of the walls around me. It’s a rebirth, not a failure. I can feel the breeze as renewal rushes over me. Of what adventures will I dream in this resurgence of myself. I wish to grow.
Sea shells, spiraling into a vortex. Her eyes, endless. The stairs she slipped down. Tumbling, endlessly.
The ocean doesn’t feel sad, she’d said. It is too beautiful to be sad.
But isn’t beautiful a certain kind of sad? I’d asked her. The answer was written on her face, carved painstakingly from each misunderstanding, each time she was pushed away.
It’s not like an ocean has feelings. It’s lucky, she’d said.
It was all in a downward spiral now, lost to the vast and complex abyss beneath. His ship one with the sea, maybe he could find happiness in this world. Maybe now…
you go and you go and you go, like a bird up and down an elm. like a teenage girl in italy who savors the catcalls, thinking they’re for her alone. you are tragic but beautiful but tragic still, and you spin in circles until there’s nowhere left to go.
The irony of the evening was not lost on her. She waited with her friends at the bottom of the spiral staircase, giggling and chatting nervously when she saw him, regal and perfect, appear at the top.
all i remember about the girl was her hair. every other detail has escaped me but her hair, oddly enough. endless strawberry blonde spirals down her back. smell of flowers and bouncier than a trampoline. amnesia sure is killer
For a while I thought I was in a downward spiral. I was making all the wrong decisions and I couldn’t seem to stop myself. I figured it was okay, though, as long as it didn’t go on for too long. So I let it pass, eventually seeing the error of my ways with enough clarity to truly want to change.
Don’t let go, don’t let go. Look at me. Look at me. It’s happening now — it’s happening fast. Stay strong, stay calm. Look at me. You will be okay. You will be fine. I love you. You are everything you need. Do not look back. Do not look behind you. Do not think about me, do not think about us. You will be okay. Just believe me. Trust me, if you ever loved me, if you ever believed anything about us or this life, just believe me. You will be okay. Okay? Do you understand? Okay. You can let go, now. Baby, it’s time to let go.
they say opposites attract
pull together, push apart
there’s a certain elasticity
in the way we speak
that stings when it snaps
and sends us spinning
round and round in cold
silent spirals
I’m spiraling out of control. No one knows who I am. i don’t even know who I am. It’s like the world has erased me from itself. Maybe I am dead. Is death this cold? This lonesome? Or maybe I’m just lost and insane. Yes, that’s it. I am lost in the woods. Stupid. I should have never ran away.
sprialing out of control. spinning and spinning. thats how the game goes. m.a.s.h. the game determining your future. may the odds ever be in your favor!
the slinky spirals across the class room. This is high school physics. Mr. Marx is talking about physics. Physics, physics, gravity, force, force of gravity. None of which are things that are given meaning besides spreading the endlessly spiraling slinky across a stark high school class room. Feelings of literal despair over a slinky spiral through the room.
Time. A strange concept; Ticking faster when there is joy, slowing to molasses as the bad infects our lives. It spirals into nothingness, meaninglessness, and the question is raised: Will I have enough?
The fraction divides and divides, like leaves of a fern, twisting and spinning and coming down in fractions, so small that you need a microscope to see them. The patterns repeat over and over and never end and it’s all about the math
My hands trembled as I slowly stood, shock washing over me like a wave. I just killed a human being with my bare hands. He was there, sprawled on the floor, unmoving, blood oozing from the spot on his back where I’d planted the knife. How things had come to this, I’d never know…this downward spiral of my life amazed and angered me at the same time. I was a murderer, and if you’d had told me that not even a month ago I would’ve called you crazy.
one wd is action, I want to take action in liffe, not as a spectator buts a participant in life, to movforward and work to make a difference in the world, at work and with the people around me.
I feel like I’m losing control. Nothing on this planet ever goes right. My heart is beating a million miles a second and the light in this room is so excruciatingly bright that I can’t even think. What has become of my life? Just yesterday I felt like I had everything under control. Now look at me! I have wings, antennae and everything else is being pulled out from underneath me.
The spiral into darkness of spirit can happen quickly or very, very slowly. One misstep at a time. One drink or hit…and you have one foot on a slippery slope into the abyss. And no one can dig you out. There are short cuts, no do overs or easy outs…so think carefully about what you chose in life. Who are you and what did you come here to do? That is the only question you need to answer for yourself…
The cloud spun in the sky, swirling around lazily and catching her eye. It reminded her of an apple peel, or a lollipop. Smiling, she reached her fingers up to the sky and closed it into a fist, as if capturing it.
And it all went downhill from there. First the skipping school, the the alcohol, then the drugs, sweet syrup shooting in his veins and fairy dust in neat lines on the table. Everything was reflected by mirrors and folded in half by glass. Everything became green- pot, money, the green dots in his vision, the scrubs of the nurses that picked him up after every bad trip.
He had slipped into a whirlpool, and there was no use to save himself from drowning while in that deep.
Spiraling into the void, I reconsidered my decision for the first time. The sand chafing at my skin became softer and softer until I turned to glass. Looking at my hand, I saw a million scintillating glimmers as the last light passed through. Breakable, I set to destroying. This was my cross.
She walked and walked and walked, down the seemingly never-ending staircase. The trip was dressed with images against the beige walls. At the top were images of psychedelic colors, ones that humans would never be able to compose. The psychedelic images began to fade as she went on, one thing gone after the next. When she finally reached the lobby, the canvases were vacant.
downwards
always faster
never ending
out of control
roller coaster
round and round
Can’t go back
still falling
always falling
Estoy perdida en una espiral de ideas que no puedo desarrollar.
Tengo tantas idea que no se por donde empezar, estoy en medio de esta espiral de ideas….estoy completa y totalmente PERDIDA
No se que hacer, pero se que lo voy a a superar y voy a hacer de esa espiral una linea recta por la cual seguir caminando.