Funny this should be my first word as I am in training right now. And the funny thing is, nobody is training me. Well, that’s not completely true, we are training ourselfs and it makes me wonder, If I can do this for a paycheck, could I not do it for my life. \Just train myslef to live a better life every day. Excersice like I really am going to do the marathon that I have always promised myself. Eat the way I would if I were training myself…whay not? Why not get the best of this thing anyway. I’m not likely dying tomorrow and I can'[t start life all over again, so I might as well live now.
This is much longer that 60 seconds, isn’t it.
Trains are a lovely way to visit the countryside and go, removed far away from the dullness of American suburbia. For some reason, I never associate trains with America, as I have never been on one.
Train… I think of train wreck. How everything is chaotic right now. And how everyone seems to be going through the same stuff, sort of like a chain reaction…similar to train carts…idk, weird feelings…
She took her seat on the train, fumbling in her purse for a stick of gum. She unwrapped it and popped it in her mouth, chewing contemplatively as she stared blankly out of the window. The trees passed by in a whirl of green – the sky, one long streak of blue patched here and there with the white of the clouds. She closed her eyes and leaned her head against the glass, wishing she could just be there and in his arms already.
i was boarding the train and i saw a little boy wave at me. i waved back, and as the train lurched to a start the boys smile slowly fell, and he turned away, clutching his mothers hand. it was not me he was waving at, but i sometimes like to think so.
the train. doesn’t stop. keeps going. powerful. my heart is on that train. traveling. rushing. fast. beautiful. take me away train. away from here. they can’t stop you. it’d take so long. hurry hurry my precious. take me away. oh how i love you.
Their “song,” Drops of Jupiter, is by Train. They sing it constantly to eachother, and it drives me bananas. They are for sure, my least favorite couple of all time.
you can train yourself not to think. everything comes with time. meditation is a god given right to oneself, solitude is sacred and shall be kept quietly within, a secret to be trained, practised until made into perfection.
The train had just left the station and I was already drowning in words that I wish I had said to her. All the places we had gone together and things had done as “just friends” had never been enough, and I didn’t want to compromise what we had together. I love her. I always will, and now I have to deal with that.
train is wen you someone tells you waht yo do and to keep it in youhr head and then whene you are goin to dance you are going to dance goood not bad and a train is the train that gives you a ride to where you waaa
I ride the metro train in DC nearly every single day, and it never ceases to amaze me how dull the DC general public seams to be in relation to the vibrant colorful atmosphere found in New York City.
i caught the train with nowhere to go and no one to leave behind. i broke free from who i was, where i had been, what i wanted to do, and where i wanted to go. the train was going to take me away, start me over and make me new.
Like a train of endless waste her thoughts ran round and round going nowehere anyone ever wanted them to go and it was not her choice to think this way but circumstances demanded it.
My life is like a train. I don’t know where the next stop is. It’s like I got on without looking at the destination. I can only hope that its where I want it to be. The problem is, I don’t even know where I want it to be.
Blaine is a pain and that is the truth.
Been reading too much Stephen King, I see.
But the words chill your heart because they apply to you, too.
It’s not all a fiction.
Not all is silent in the stone hallways of the dead.
I’ve sat and watched the same train every single day for a full year. My window grew foggy with condensation. Even in the cool blur, I knew there was somewhere else to go if need be.
Freight train taking me nowhere fast. No originality any longer, just the images I see from the window, all seen by millions before me and millions to come, but never yet in this light, never again in this instant.
The train sprawled in a heap of twisted metal and smoking tree stumps. The passengers, all of them, lay dead in the wreckage. A child sat among them, contentedly chewing on a piece of gum she had stolen from the bloody pocket of the man’s body beneath her.
last time i got on a train i was leaving both venice and someone i loved. I never saw either again but i will never forget the smell of that august afternoon. I smeled like goodbye.
“What am I going to say when I get there?” I kept asking myself. We havent seen each other in ages and my stomach was in knots. “Why did she leave me?” I kept asking myself.
you run down the steps……
following it…….
hurrying….
but you cant catch it…
all the people you love….
flying away….
down the tracks….
the train…..
fallsinto the mist…..
and then its gone..
you gasp….
and then you wake up………
shivering….
its just a nightmare…
but you run downstairs….
to make sure theyre okay……
and finnally breathe.
train hard for the big meet. Big hard meat… hehehe, STOP IT! gotta train. Run, idiot! run through the burning lungs and aching legs. Run though you vomit! gotta win!
Train tracks rittled my heart from the light he was trying to show me. It didn’t work he had been choo-chooing with that girl from Chatanooga and all was lost. There was no point in telling him how I felt. He conducted my life and that was not in his itinerary.
με λενε παναγιωτη και ειμαι καλα, δεν ασκουμαι καθολου και βαραω μυγες ολη μερα.. δεν εχω κατι αλλο να πω, ισως οτι θελω εναν προσωπικο γυμναστη.. αυτα
The train was moving just too fast. He couldn’t do it. Could he? He had a family. A life. He told himself he saw a bird, jsut one, within the next thirty seconds he would jump. He counted out loud. Thirty seconds was up.
Following a train of thought is like going on a journey all it’s own. So many side routes and so many scenic routes all at least slightly correlating to the original thought. The synapses fire and the images seek form in your mind. Amusing thoughts of original origin and forgetful foreign paths are unlocked. A train of thought, one of the best things in the world as you watch a branching of ways the thought can be expanded upon. The multitude is in the thought that original acorn.
I knew I was going to miss it. That damn traffic jam. I held my watch tight as if I could stop time for a while, maybe catch the train. Maybe get there, you know. Was that too ambitious? Was I being ridiculous? Was I pretending again?
he tried. her brain. was like an ocean. she crashed into it like a train. waves roll. tides fall. he never cared for her at all. then summer. rushes spring. her brain. he tried. some train.
The train today wasn’t as hot as everyone seemed to think. I was dressed in short-sleeves, prepared to go to my destination of Old Resembool. It was hot there, but I had gotten used to it–having lived there for seventeen years of my young life.
The train whistle blows, and among the sea of heads I see his dark muss of hair. I push my way through hordes of people babbling things at me in Italian, a fish against the sea. And then he is there, and I… I am there too.
Funny this should be my first word as I am in training right now. And the funny thing is, nobody is training me. Well, that’s not completely true, we are training ourselfs and it makes me wonder, If I can do this for a paycheck, could I not do it for my life. \Just train myslef to live a better life every day. Excersice like I really am going to do the marathon that I have always promised myself. Eat the way I would if I were training myself…whay not? Why not get the best of this thing anyway. I’m not likely dying tomorrow and I can'[t start life all over again, so I might as well live now.
This is much longer that 60 seconds, isn’t it.
Trains are a lovely way to visit the countryside and go, removed far away from the dullness of American suburbia. For some reason, I never associate trains with America, as I have never been on one.
Train… I think of train wreck. How everything is chaotic right now. And how everyone seems to be going through the same stuff, sort of like a chain reaction…similar to train carts…idk, weird feelings…
She took her seat on the train, fumbling in her purse for a stick of gum. She unwrapped it and popped it in her mouth, chewing contemplatively as she stared blankly out of the window. The trees passed by in a whirl of green – the sky, one long streak of blue patched here and there with the white of the clouds. She closed her eyes and leaned her head against the glass, wishing she could just be there and in his arms already.
i was boarding the train and i saw a little boy wave at me. i waved back, and as the train lurched to a start the boys smile slowly fell, and he turned away, clutching his mothers hand. it was not me he was waving at, but i sometimes like to think so.
when you sit on a train and watch the world go past sometimes it’s a good time to ponder and reflect on where you’re life is going and who you are.
the train. doesn’t stop. keeps going. powerful. my heart is on that train. traveling. rushing. fast. beautiful. take me away train. away from here. they can’t stop you. it’d take so long. hurry hurry my precious. take me away. oh how i love you.
Their “song,” Drops of Jupiter, is by Train. They sing it constantly to eachother, and it drives me bananas. They are for sure, my least favorite couple of all time.
love
commitment
soul
landscape
sunshine
lifetime
sea
passion
go
amor
you can train yourself not to think. everything comes with time. meditation is a god given right to oneself, solitude is sacred and shall be kept quietly within, a secret to be trained, practised until made into perfection.
The train had just left the station and I was already drowning in words that I wish I had said to her. All the places we had gone together and things had done as “just friends” had never been enough, and I didn’t want to compromise what we had together. I love her. I always will, and now I have to deal with that.
train is the train that somone goes to drop you offf like a bus a train does to even you telll them first ande then y
train is wen you someone tells you waht yo do and to keep it in youhr head and then whene you are goin to dance you are going to dance goood not bad and a train is the train that gives you a ride to where you waaa
I ride the metro train in DC nearly every single day, and it never ceases to amaze me how dull the DC general public seams to be in relation to the vibrant colorful atmosphere found in New York City.
i caught the train with nowhere to go and no one to leave behind. i broke free from who i was, where i had been, what i wanted to do, and where i wanted to go. the train was going to take me away, start me over and make me new.
train your senses to take in more than just the surface of the world.
Like a train of endless waste her thoughts ran round and round going nowehere anyone ever wanted them to go and it was not her choice to think this way but circumstances demanded it.
My life is like a train. I don’t know where the next stop is. It’s like I got on without looking at the destination. I can only hope that its where I want it to be. The problem is, I don’t even know where I want it to be.
Blaine is a pain and that is the truth.
Been reading too much Stephen King, I see.
But the words chill your heart because they apply to you, too.
It’s not all a fiction.
Not all is silent in the stone hallways of the dead.
I’ve sat and watched the same train every single day for a full year. My window grew foggy with condensation. Even in the cool blur, I knew there was somewhere else to go if need be.
Freight train taking me nowhere fast. No originality any longer, just the images I see from the window, all seen by millions before me and millions to come, but never yet in this light, never again in this instant.
The train sprawled in a heap of twisted metal and smoking tree stumps. The passengers, all of them, lay dead in the wreckage. A child sat among them, contentedly chewing on a piece of gum she had stolen from the bloody pocket of the man’s body beneath her.
last time i got on a train i was leaving both venice and someone i loved. I never saw either again but i will never forget the smell of that august afternoon. I smeled like goodbye.
“What am I going to say when I get there?” I kept asking myself. We havent seen each other in ages and my stomach was in knots. “Why did she leave me?” I kept asking myself.
i hear the train outside at midnight. i try to sleep but it just blares on and on and on, reminding me of the day i will die.
Train starts to move slowly. He looks at her through the window, with a smile on his face. But sadness fills his eyes.
you run down the steps……
following it…….
hurrying….
but you cant catch it…
all the people you love….
flying away….
down the tracks….
the train…..
fallsinto the mist…..
and then its gone..
you gasp….
and then you wake up………
shivering….
its just a nightmare…
but you run downstairs….
to make sure theyre okay……
and finnally breathe.
train hard for the big meet. Big hard meat… hehehe, STOP IT! gotta train. Run, idiot! run through the burning lungs and aching legs. Run though you vomit! gotta win!
Train tracks rittled my heart from the light he was trying to show me. It didn’t work he had been choo-chooing with that girl from Chatanooga and all was lost. There was no point in telling him how I felt. He conducted my life and that was not in his itinerary.
με λενε παναγιωτη και ειμαι καλα, δεν ασκουμαι καθολου και βαραω μυγες ολη μερα.. δεν εχω κατι αλλο να πω, ισως οτι θελω εναν προσωπικο γυμναστη.. αυτα
The train was moving just too fast. He couldn’t do it. Could he? He had a family. A life. He told himself he saw a bird, jsut one, within the next thirty seconds he would jump. He counted out loud. Thirty seconds was up.
Following a train of thought is like going on a journey all it’s own. So many side routes and so many scenic routes all at least slightly correlating to the original thought. The synapses fire and the images seek form in your mind. Amusing thoughts of original origin and forgetful foreign paths are unlocked. A train of thought, one of the best things in the world as you watch a branching of ways the thought can be expanded upon. The multitude is in the thought that original acorn.
the train ride was long and I had to sit there and wait. My stomach was in knots trying to think of words to say to her.
I knew I was going to miss it. That damn traffic jam. I held my watch tight as if I could stop time for a while, maybe catch the train. Maybe get there, you know. Was that too ambitious? Was I being ridiculous? Was I pretending again?
he tried. her brain. was like an ocean. she crashed into it like a train. waves roll. tides fall. he never cared for her at all. then summer. rushes spring. her brain. he tried. some train.
The train blew through the small town tearing its way along the track trees rushed pass the windows in a green blur as i looked past the scenery.
The train today wasn’t as hot as everyone seemed to think. I was dressed in short-sleeves, prepared to go to my destination of Old Resembool. It was hot there, but I had gotten used to it–having lived there for seventeen years of my young life.
The train whistle blows, and among the sea of heads I see his dark muss of hair. I push my way through hordes of people babbling things at me in Italian, a fish against the sea. And then he is there, and I… I am there too.
the train barreled down the track baring witness to the majestic splendor that once was.
The train is loud outside my window i try to sleep but it just blares on and on and on reminding me of the day i will die
forever