stick it to you- that’s what I’ll do. I’m going to achieve so much with my life, my opportunities, that anything negative you have ever thought about me and my abilities will be disproven gloriously.
stick with it, never give up, don’t fade away into the gloom and wish you had never been born. life is here and now and together we can make something beautiful. i wish i could see your face when i make it to the top. I will be famous and successful and everything will be awesome. I want to be more than I am, I want to make more than I do, I wish I had more dedication.
i use a field hockey stick when i play field hockey. i played this sport for four years in high school but now that i am in college i dont play anymore. i go to college in charleston, south carolina. the weather is very hot and humid and during the summer i can barely handle it. luckily, i go home for the summer.
And her bones were so thin that they broke like glass and bent like twigs. And she was small and fragile and her mother tried to protect her, but we all must go out into the real world someday. And the real world snapped her like a stick.
one time i was playing basketball and i was going for the shot and some girl threw a stick at my face. i didnt see it coming so i had no time to dodge it. the shot missed and my face was bleeding. not a good day. damn recess always sucked.
There’s a stick up your….you know where. You should remove it….personally, I believe life is about living. Go outside…appreciate the beauty. Appreciate the sky and the ground and the trees. appreciate the trees and their branches….sticks. Keep them there…on a tree. not up your butt. Love life, never hate anything.
Oh my god I don’t know what that word means. I have something stuck on me. its a stick. okay sorry, I know that is super generic, but seriously, is that a thing? Yes its a thing you can find in my panties.
When our circumstances challenge us, as they invariably do in a lifetime, we must stick with the convictions which help us weather storms. Our ability to stick with our deeply held beliefs define us in moments of trial.
stick in the mud like stuck in the mud stuck in a rut but how to get out it’s the same old same old yet there’s a twist each day and there’s nothing new to have so I embrace the current, live in the now and realize this is my life and I better make the best of it with it’s lack of glamor and it’s certain emptiness amidst the fulfillment.
it is hard and sometimes long.
I guess it’s always long since if it’s small it’s considered a twig.
That just as a noun though, it can be like to stick something together.
Like to adhere.
The stick protruded out of the mud like a sword deeply embedded into an enemy’s corpse. Mud oozing sluggishly off it’s sides, Charlie fought back a strong urge to vomit. If there had ever been a more offensive looking thing, he sure as hell hadn’t seen it…the thing was a goddamn tripping hazard.
A stick is a knobby, knot hol filled piece of wood wrinkled white haired men use for walking. It’s what the kiddies use to chase each other around the fresh green lawn at dusk. It it smells of that childhood and stays with us til we’re old in a similar but different form.
A stick is a knobby, knot holed filled piece of wood wrinkled white haired men use for walking. It’s what the kiddies use to chase each other around the fresh green lawn at dusk. It it smells of that childhood and stays with us til we’re old in a similar but different form.
My husband and I stick together. But what really makes two people “stick”? Similar interests? Passions? Or a nebulous “getting” of each other? I can’t predict when it will happen with a new friend, but I’m always grateful when it does.
It’s hard to stick to something. Something else just always wants to take its place. Stickiness. It’s hard. To stick or not to stick. Maybe I’m missing out on something better…
immediately,she felt her tongue begin to stick to the roof of her mouth;her eyes water and the very personal feeling of falling/being pulled backwards.her head kept wanting to turn a quarter turn to the left.aaargh.she knew better.now,it was too late!
Stick em up to the sky, then scream because its over, its late, too late, too old, too hard…it doesn’t matter if it was too hard because you don’t get another chance. Where are your excuses now?
If I had a stick, I would beat my father to death. It would need to be long and full of knots. I can imagine him laying in his own blood, the stick turning from brown to rust.
he put it into her, her stick figure of a body. it felt strange, like it had been done before, over, and over. like she was a reused napkin. she smiled emptily, turned over
Decaying, the knobby stick jutted out of the frozen earth, brushed with a white dusting of snow. A bird hovered above as if pondering the purpose of death when you can’t escape the cold.
sticking around, sticking around. sticking your heart everywhere like it was not a big deal. sticking with smiles and sugar like nothing was going on. but you knew something was wrong, because you knew it was going to fall off soon and show its true purpose.
there was a stick in the mud. vertical and long, just stuck. the stick was stuck and nobody was there to pull it out of the mud. it was about to rain and surely the stick would remain stuck in that dreaded little puddle, swollen with water and dirt until the sun came back.
Sticks and Stones may break my bones, but words will never hurt me.
What a load of crock that one is. Words hurt plenty. Words hurt worse actually. No one ever got hit with a stick and remembered the stick years later. One hurtful word or one hurtful phrase can haunt a person for the rest of their lives. Plague their nightmares even.
i wish that you could see that you have this huge stick shoved up your ass. i dont even understand. you wanted all of this. no one forced you into your situation. like live up to it. you can’t run away and you cant tell us you are going to leave. you wanted all of this. your the adult.
up your nose, tree blah i have no clue what i am saying i dont like sticks except fot the bug stick on a bugs life, he was fun.oe;fhgoewhgewhgoewogboewibgowebiogufesobgoebgiowbeogibfowebgoibdsobgfv;dkjsbgioe0wihyoithewibgiosubgonvinerwigoherwgjrbgibrewobgrwobgoibrobgoerwhgiobrebgoerobgrwiogiobewiobgiowebgiobrweobgosbgobsobgskdbgjbbbbbbbbbbbbireowrihwoieghwioghowhgoshoghldsnlgksdngnskldngkldsngkldns slakfjlasjfsjapojpoj skank this is stupid stick stick stick tape glue stick art
The stick was something unattainable, far away. The stick came from the tree, which stretched its branches far up into the sky. The stick was a relic of something grand. The stick was something that a great thing had lost.
But now it lay on the ground.
Despite its proximity to the child, the child felt far away. The child could never be as grand as the tree, as grand as the branches, as grand as the sky. The child could never be as grand as the stick.
My dog loves sticks, she will carry them around for days. Sleeping with them, nibbling on them. Until one day she just destroys it. Sort of like a short relationship…
“No, Molly! We can’t! Mom told us not to go outside, it’s raining, and we’ll get sick.”
“Come on, Samantha. She’s not even home, and that’s just a myth, anyways. You never want to do anything; besides, Bobby Harris is out there, and I want to go say hi! God… Don’t be such a stick in the mud!”
i’ve got to make this material stick
not just for the night
not just for the final
forever
because if i ever want to get anywhere in life
i need to take full advantage of my education
according to my parents
according to my school
according to society.
because i’m a girl.
i need to take advantage of the opportunities i am given.
even if the material won’t stick.
I wrote about this stick before. I said Phallus, and I said a tree branch. A phallus, a penis. A tree branch. But I got dirty when writing about the phallus. It was before I made an account with my name to it, so I went wild. But I can’t go wild now, because my name is on here. Oh the inhibitions, the confines. But really, who would care. I am just being narcissistic thinking anyone would care. A tree branch, however. Annie, my 5 year old neighbor. I was three, she was five. Points of the tree branch were covered in tree sap and we caught ants that marched to and fro the crack in my driveway. She left one day, my best friend, and never came back.
The stick sent poswer surging through my body. Defending myself against that man made hope bloom within my life once again. Now, I am able to be whole.
I stick with the things I know best. I try to be someone special, when I know I’m not. I stick with what I am comfortable with and that’s why I am bored with life. I am bored because I stick with a schedule. I stick with what I am comfortable with. It makes a difference.
long, brown, wooden, never been used left by the side of the road open to anyone to pick up and use for any purpose, to hit, to strike, to kill, to lick, to love, to create, but most likely to just be left
like from a tree i think of the fall autumn or down the stairs i wonder if the stars get cold during the winter stick like in the mud there re a lot of people who just dont enjoy life so they never try anything new that would be a terrible way to live to stubborn to learn anything of value school education stick.
Okay. Usually my entries sound like I’m a serial killer or an assassin, so lately I’ve tried to improve it. I do it by trying to imagine who I am before I click on the one word prompt. Now, I am a horror author, so bear in mind the perspective, but now I try to think, “I’m a vampire,” or “I’m a werewolf,” or “I’m a sasquatch,” before I write. But today, for whatever reason, I thought, “I’m a jalapeño, on a stick,” from Jeff Dunham’s comedy routines. And what is the prompt today? Stick. What are the odds? I was speechless!
i already wrote about stick. stick is my friend. stick is purple in this, but in real life stick is brown, a dark brown, obviously. like tree bark. stick doesn’t like to be thrown around. stick only likes to lay on the ground and soak up some sun before that same sun turns him into biodegradable waste. oh, poor stick, what pathetic life you have.
In improv class, we aren’t allowed to use the word ‘stick’ any more. It has to be ‘twig’ or something else similarly specific. I just keep thinking that stick is a perfectly fine word to use, it makes me laugh. I especially when you say things like the little boy poked the frog with a stick. It’s hilarious. I love those little things.
stick it to you- that’s what I’ll do. I’m going to achieve so much with my life, my opportunities, that anything negative you have ever thought about me and my abilities will be disproven gloriously.
stick with it, never give up, don’t fade away into the gloom and wish you had never been born. life is here and now and together we can make something beautiful. i wish i could see your face when i make it to the top. I will be famous and successful and everything will be awesome. I want to be more than I am, I want to make more than I do, I wish I had more dedication.
i use a field hockey stick when i play field hockey. i played this sport for four years in high school but now that i am in college i dont play anymore. i go to college in charleston, south carolina. the weather is very hot and humid and during the summer i can barely handle it. luckily, i go home for the summer.
And her bones were so thin that they broke like glass and bent like twigs. And she was small and fragile and her mother tried to protect her, but we all must go out into the real world someday. And the real world snapped her like a stick.
one time i was playing basketball and i was going for the shot and some girl threw a stick at my face. i didnt see it coming so i had no time to dodge it. the shot missed and my face was bleeding. not a good day. damn recess always sucked.
There’s a stick up your….you know where. You should remove it….personally, I believe life is about living. Go outside…appreciate the beauty. Appreciate the sky and the ground and the trees. appreciate the trees and their branches….sticks. Keep them there…on a tree. not up your butt. Love life, never hate anything.
Oh my god I don’t know what that word means. I have something stuck on me. its a stick. okay sorry, I know that is super generic, but seriously, is that a thing? Yes its a thing you can find in my panties.
When our circumstances challenge us, as they invariably do in a lifetime, we must stick with the convictions which help us weather storms. Our ability to stick with our deeply held beliefs define us in moments of trial.
stick
stick in the mud like stuck in the mud stuck in a rut but how to get out it’s the same old same old yet there’s a twist each day and there’s nothing new to have so I embrace the current, live in the now and realize this is my life and I better make the best of it with it’s lack of glamor and it’s certain emptiness amidst the fulfillment.
it is hard and sometimes long.
I guess it’s always long since if it’s small it’s considered a twig.
That just as a noun though, it can be like to stick something together.
Like to adhere.
This website is interesting.
I like to stick sticks up my bum an
The stick protruded out of the mud like a sword deeply embedded into an enemy’s corpse. Mud oozing sluggishly off it’s sides, Charlie fought back a strong urge to vomit. If there had ever been a more offensive looking thing, he sure as hell hadn’t seen it…the thing was a goddamn tripping hazard.
A stick is a knobby, knot hol filled piece of wood wrinkled white haired men use for walking. It’s what the kiddies use to chase each other around the fresh green lawn at dusk. It it smells of that childhood and stays with us til we’re old in a similar but different form.
A stick is a knobby, knot holed filled piece of wood wrinkled white haired men use for walking. It’s what the kiddies use to chase each other around the fresh green lawn at dusk. It it smells of that childhood and stays with us til we’re old in a similar but different form.
The first thought that comes to my mind is stick people. However there are sticks, sticks of gum, sticks of dynamite that come to my mind as well.
My husband and I stick together. But what really makes two people “stick”? Similar interests? Passions? Or a nebulous “getting” of each other? I can’t predict when it will happen with a new friend, but I’m always grateful when it does.
It’s hard to stick to something. Something else just always wants to take its place. Stickiness. It’s hard. To stick or not to stick. Maybe I’m missing out on something better…
immediately,she felt her tongue begin to stick to the roof of her mouth;her eyes water and the very personal feeling of falling/being pulled backwards.her head kept wanting to turn a quarter turn to the left.aaargh.she knew better.now,it was too late!
Stick em up to the sky, then scream because its over, its late, too late, too old, too hard…it doesn’t matter if it was too hard because you don’t get another chance. Where are your excuses now?
If I had a stick, I would beat my father to death. It would need to be long and full of knots. I can imagine him laying in his own blood, the stick turning from brown to rust.
he put it into her, her stick figure of a body. it felt strange, like it had been done before, over, and over. like she was a reused napkin. she smiled emptily, turned over
Decaying, the knobby stick jutted out of the frozen earth, brushed with a white dusting of snow. A bird hovered above as if pondering the purpose of death when you can’t escape the cold.
sticking around, sticking around. sticking your heart everywhere like it was not a big deal. sticking with smiles and sugar like nothing was going on. but you knew something was wrong, because you knew it was going to fall off soon and show its true purpose.
there was a stick in the mud. vertical and long, just stuck. the stick was stuck and nobody was there to pull it out of the mud. it was about to rain and surely the stick would remain stuck in that dreaded little puddle, swollen with water and dirt until the sun came back.
Sticks and Stones may break my bones, but words will never hurt me.
What a load of crock that one is. Words hurt plenty. Words hurt worse actually. No one ever got hit with a stick and remembered the stick years later. One hurtful word or one hurtful phrase can haunt a person for the rest of their lives. Plague their nightmares even.
i wish that you could see that you have this huge stick shoved up your ass. i dont even understand. you wanted all of this. no one forced you into your situation. like live up to it. you can’t run away and you cant tell us you are going to leave. you wanted all of this. your the adult.
up your nose, tree blah i have no clue what i am saying i dont like sticks except fot the bug stick on a bugs life, he was fun.oe;fhgoewhgewhgoewogboewibgowebiogufesobgoebgiowbeogibfowebgoibdsobgfv;dkjsbgioe0wihyoithewibgiosubgonvinerwigoherwgjrbgibrewobgrwobgoibrobgoerwhgiobrebgoerobgrwiogiobewiobgiowebgiobrweobgosbgobsobgskdbgjbbbbbbbbbbbbireowrihwoieghwioghowhgoshoghldsnlgksdngnskldngkldsngkldns slakfjlasjfsjapojpoj skank this is stupid stick stick stick tape glue stick art
The stick lay on the ground.
The child looked at the stick.
The stick was something unattainable, far away. The stick came from the tree, which stretched its branches far up into the sky. The stick was a relic of something grand. The stick was something that a great thing had lost.
But now it lay on the ground.
Despite its proximity to the child, the child felt far away. The child could never be as grand as the tree, as grand as the branches, as grand as the sky. The child could never be as grand as the stick.
My dog loves sticks, she will carry them around for days. Sleeping with them, nibbling on them. Until one day she just destroys it. Sort of like a short relationship…
“No, Molly! We can’t! Mom told us not to go outside, it’s raining, and we’ll get sick.”
“Come on, Samantha. She’s not even home, and that’s just a myth, anyways. You never want to do anything; besides, Bobby Harris is out there, and I want to go say hi! God… Don’t be such a stick in the mud!”
i’ve got to make this material stick
not just for the night
not just for the final
forever
because if i ever want to get anywhere in life
i need to take full advantage of my education
according to my parents
according to my school
according to society.
because i’m a girl.
i need to take advantage of the opportunities i am given.
even if the material won’t stick.
I wrote about this stick before. I said Phallus, and I said a tree branch. A phallus, a penis. A tree branch. But I got dirty when writing about the phallus. It was before I made an account with my name to it, so I went wild. But I can’t go wild now, because my name is on here. Oh the inhibitions, the confines. But really, who would care. I am just being narcissistic thinking anyone would care. A tree branch, however. Annie, my 5 year old neighbor. I was three, she was five. Points of the tree branch were covered in tree sap and we caught ants that marched to and fro the crack in my driveway. She left one day, my best friend, and never came back.
The stick sent poswer surging through my body. Defending myself against that man made hope bloom within my life once again. Now, I am able to be whole.
I stick with the things I know best. I try to be someone special, when I know I’m not. I stick with what I am comfortable with and that’s why I am bored with life. I am bored because I stick with a schedule. I stick with what I am comfortable with. It makes a difference.
I’m stuck on what to write for this word.
long, brown, wooden, never been used left by the side of the road open to anyone to pick up and use for any purpose, to hit, to strike, to kill, to lick, to love, to create, but most likely to just be left
like from a tree i think of the fall autumn or down the stairs i wonder if the stars get cold during the winter stick like in the mud there re a lot of people who just dont enjoy life so they never try anything new that would be a terrible way to live to stubborn to learn anything of value school education stick.
Okay. Usually my entries sound like I’m a serial killer or an assassin, so lately I’ve tried to improve it. I do it by trying to imagine who I am before I click on the one word prompt. Now, I am a horror author, so bear in mind the perspective, but now I try to think, “I’m a vampire,” or “I’m a werewolf,” or “I’m a sasquatch,” before I write. But today, for whatever reason, I thought, “I’m a jalapeño, on a stick,” from Jeff Dunham’s comedy routines. And what is the prompt today? Stick. What are the odds? I was speechless!
i already wrote about stick. stick is my friend. stick is purple in this, but in real life stick is brown, a dark brown, obviously. like tree bark. stick doesn’t like to be thrown around. stick only likes to lay on the ground and soak up some sun before that same sun turns him into biodegradable waste. oh, poor stick, what pathetic life you have.
In improv class, we aren’t allowed to use the word ‘stick’ any more. It has to be ‘twig’ or something else similarly specific. I just keep thinking that stick is a perfectly fine word to use, it makes me laugh. I especially when you say things like the little boy poked the frog with a stick. It’s hilarious. I love those little things.