used is an overrated word. and possibly even ambiguous. used? used as in used to? used as in old worn and used? or used as in he just used you? used needs to be taken out and p
The fresh faced kid bounced into my office with the swagger of a used-car salesman. The overbearing scent of his cologne delivered a hasty verdict to my powers of reasoning, before the candidate even took his seat. “So.. ah, tell me about yourself Rodney?”
Used? A funny concept really, for I own many “used” (so to speak) objects of varying value throughout all of the universe and time including a couple sovereigns from earth. Ever wonder where presumed missing Blackbeard’s Treasure, the contents of the tomb of Egyptian King Tutankhamen, the only existing original print of an Agatha Christie novel that was never published (possibly her finest work), and the Ark of the Covenant? Some would say they disappeared from space and time.. I suppose one could make this argument if a tiny blue box were added to the case.
The car was empty. The house was dark. Nobody was home. The house and car hadn’t been used in ages. In fact, the lawn was starting to get unruly, and the house dusty. Cobwebs formed in the corner of the doorway and windows.
sifting through the dust of second-hand stores, I am searching for words I once knew, for an army I used to command. pages and phrases turn and tear in my hands, flutter to scraps on the floor. I feel them like phantom limbs perched on the tip of my tongue. out of focus and blurred in my mind, they’re black shapes in front of the sun.
Used and abused; abused and used. It was like addition, simple math; multiplication, harder but the same. No matter which way it was said, Charlie’s situation was the same. It was inevitable, unbelievable, but he dealt with it.
oh my this one is brilliant
used?
really?
used…
used because of my passivity
used because I lost my voice
used for good things
used for bad
I think, in some degree, everyone’s used for at least one terrible thing in our lifetimes
because if not, then why the hell would someone use another person in the first place [for something negative]?
I feel so used as your fingers grip my skin. I feel so dirty as you pierce me inside. The sweat dripping from your skin onto mine in the moonlight of secrets and lies. This deception can only go on for so long. This has begun to feel so wrong. And as the simultaneous screams build in our throats, the guilt swallows the pleasure and my scream subsides. I cannot be used anymore. It hurts to see your face and pretend I never have before. This must end.
When we met, my biggest priority was not to allow myself to be used by you. I thought you wanted to use me, you see. Maybe you did. You said that I surprised you, that you thought I was special but that I turned out to be more than you expected. But if things don’t turn out right, will you still have used me? I may never know. Yes, it bothers me.
I felt used. She grabbed me by the arm and whispered into my ear, “give me your phone.” I silently obeyed shoving my hand into my pocket. I felt the cold metal of my Gravity T and handed it over it her. She looked through my photos and sent it to herself. “Bye Loser” she said before walking away.
You act like you haven’t used me, you act as if you care, you act as if I matter when there’s not another there. So I’m putting my foot down, and not letting you get take the best of me, I’m done crying over you when your feelings won’t ever be for me.
“Some of them want to use you
some of them want to get used by you”
It was hardly a sexy song, yet it featured prominently on his pre-show playlist. It got him into the dark dirty mood that let his onstage identity come out with claws sharpened; let him fantasize about the depravity that his alter ego might indulge in, that he himself never did, no matter how badly he wanted to sometimes. That was his number one rule: don’t *ever* lose your self-control. With a persona like his, blurring the lines would be a recipe for disaster.
A used napkin. That was all she had left of him. A stupid little crumpled napkin with half an e-mail address scribbled on one corner. The rest of the address was hidden by a grease stain. Stupid grease stain. She crunched it into a ball and threw it in the trash can, then unwillingly grabbed it back out and smoothed it. This was all his fault.
I have used many kinds of lessons in the past. The students used the lessons to reember difference skills that need to be taught. I have use the bell the most.
i feel used because jelly cheated on me fro the jam
and he does not like me any more :(
i am pretty sad cuz i loved the jelly!
he was my soul mate
i miss him :(
well i am done.
He said that I used him. The truth of the matter is that we used EACH OTHER. Anyone who tells you that their motives are completely altruistic is either a liar… or a fool.
i was used today, i was used tomorrow. i was gone yesterday. and won’t see the morning. i loved you too soon. i let go to hard. i need you back. for i was used today.
Used. That’s what I feel like. I can’t believe he’d DO something like this to me. Or even that he’d be ABLE to do this.
I feel so… empty. He’s gone. I’m never getting him back. That’s when the reality hits, and that’s when I collapse to the floor, sobbing my heart out.
That sounds so cheesy, now I think it over.
The smiles used to be real
I used to be happy
I used to sing in the morning
I used to love to talk to you
I used to have friends
I used to have scarless skin
I used to like myself
Maybe I used to be pretty.
But I’ve been used.
And now nothing is as good.
I feel so used. He said I was the one, but I only helped to make him happy. And more popular. The fact is, I’m not that special. I’m one seventh of a group that is special to millions. I’m fourteen percent special. The other eighty-six percent doesn’t belong here.
He laid there with his eyes blank and his mind reeling. He breathed shallowly and quickly, knowing a few things. First of all, he knew he was bleeding. Torn. Second, he knew his three-piece suit was ruined. Third, he knew Eames would save him. Eames always saved him… always…
She drove into the used car lot, her old chevy rattling and shaking as if it were on its last legs. As if it were a person laying on his death bed. The salesman, his hair slick and shiny with grease, came out to greet her as her car sputtered to a stop. He reached out a hand to open her door, and she sighed, not wanting to give up the car that had carried her for so many miles.
Used. I’ve been used time and time again. By friends, family, strangers. My family, the people you never ever expect to use you, used me for money, attention, and someone to place blame on. My friends use me for someone to listen to them, but are never there for me in the end. Strangers, only the world knows how they use me.
Used’m up like a broken potato, I did. Taught’m a lesson ain’t like to be repeated I dare reckon. Haw! Gad dyam if I ain’t one o’ the hollerin’est fellers you ever done met.
The water is all used up. We’re finished. Gone. Dead.
What if there is no water anywhere now? I wouldn’t be surprised. How can one place be so dry and barren, but others wet and lush. I cannot believe that I was once serene, that my throat was once soothed and cool. That my brow was not covered in a hot sweat.
I think I am dying. I know I am dying.
I just hope that wherever is next, it has water there.
i sank deep down. like an old dirty towel that no one wanted. used up and spat out. hopeless determination wasted. what a pity. it was my never-ending story of down the drain. over and over
I am all used up
After a week at the
High school
Where I change lives
One smile at a time
It’s a wonder how much
Knowing that
Someone in the
World
Truly cares
used is an overrated word. and possibly even ambiguous. used? used as in used to? used as in old worn and used? or used as in he just used you? used needs to be taken out and p
The fresh faced kid bounced into my office with the swagger of a used-car salesman. The overbearing scent of his cologne delivered a hasty verdict to my powers of reasoning, before the candidate even took his seat. “So.. ah, tell me about yourself Rodney?”
I finally figured it out. She didn’t want me, but only what I could do for her. I was a tool, a means, a bridge to something else.
When somebody does something for another based on the assumption that the relationship is mutual. In fact, it is exploitive. Used.
Used? A funny concept really, for I own many “used” (so to speak) objects of varying value throughout all of the universe and time including a couple sovereigns from earth. Ever wonder where presumed missing Blackbeard’s Treasure, the contents of the tomb of Egyptian King Tutankhamen, the only existing original print of an Agatha Christie novel that was never published (possibly her finest work), and the Ark of the Covenant? Some would say they disappeared from space and time.. I suppose one could make this argument if a tiny blue box were added to the case.
The car was empty. The house was dark. Nobody was home. The house and car hadn’t been used in ages. In fact, the lawn was starting to get unruly, and the house dusty. Cobwebs formed in the corner of the doorway and windows.
sifting through the dust of second-hand stores, I am searching for words I once knew, for an army I used to command. pages and phrases turn and tear in my hands, flutter to scraps on the floor. I feel them like phantom limbs perched on the tip of my tongue. out of focus and blurred in my mind, they’re black shapes in front of the sun.
Used and abused; abused and used. It was like addition, simple math; multiplication, harder but the same. No matter which way it was said, Charlie’s situation was the same. It was inevitable, unbelievable, but he dealt with it.
oh my this one is brilliant
used?
really?
used…
used because of my passivity
used because I lost my voice
used for good things
used for bad
I think, in some degree, everyone’s used for at least one terrible thing in our lifetimes
because if not, then why the hell would someone use another person in the first place [for something negative]?
Me from all of the stupid female’s who i bothered to chase and to be quite honest even though i was a “Nice guy” i was never quite right for them.
My appliances witch i reply on ever day and never bother to say thank you *Hug’s the microwave.
i realy use all of my cloths very much. i believe that many people did’t use their cloth
As I saw the spent shell casing on the ground, I knew it had been a set up, they were too ready, too prepared, we were being used.
That made the loss of a friend that much worse… we were simple props….
I feel so used as your fingers grip my skin. I feel so dirty as you pierce me inside. The sweat dripping from your skin onto mine in the moonlight of secrets and lies. This deception can only go on for so long. This has begun to feel so wrong. And as the simultaneous screams build in our throats, the guilt swallows the pleasure and my scream subsides. I cannot be used anymore. It hurts to see your face and pretend I never have before. This must end.
When we met, my biggest priority was not to allow myself to be used by you. I thought you wanted to use me, you see. Maybe you did. You said that I surprised you, that you thought I was special but that I turned out to be more than you expected. But if things don’t turn out right, will you still have used me? I may never know. Yes, it bothers me.
I felt used. She grabbed me by the arm and whispered into my ear, “give me your phone.” I silently obeyed shoving my hand into my pocket. I felt the cold metal of my Gravity T and handed it over it her. She looked through my photos and sent it to herself. “Bye Loser” she said before walking away.
She felt used. And here he was, a year later, offering to use her again.
Not likely.
i bought an used book for my class. everything that we used for the party was ruin.
You act like you haven’t used me, you act as if you care, you act as if I matter when there’s not another there. So I’m putting my foot down, and not letting you get take the best of me, I’m done crying over you when your feelings won’t ever be for me.
“Some of them want to use you
some of them want to get used by you”
It was hardly a sexy song, yet it featured prominently on his pre-show playlist. It got him into the dark dirty mood that let his onstage identity come out with claws sharpened; let him fantasize about the depravity that his alter ego might indulge in, that he himself never did, no matter how badly he wanted to sometimes. That was his number one rule: don’t *ever* lose your self-control. With a persona like his, blurring the lines would be a recipe for disaster.
A used napkin. That was all she had left of him. A stupid little crumpled napkin with half an e-mail address scribbled on one corner. The rest of the address was hidden by a grease stain. Stupid grease stain. She crunched it into a ball and threw it in the trash can, then unwillingly grabbed it back out and smoothed it. This was all his fault.
I have used many kinds of lessons in the past. The students used the lessons to reember difference skills that need to be taught. I have use the bell the most.
i feel used because jelly cheated on me fro the jam
and he does not like me any more :(
i am pretty sad cuz i loved the jelly!
he was my soul mate
i miss him :(
well i am done.
He said that I used him. The truth of the matter is that we used EACH OTHER. Anyone who tells you that their motives are completely altruistic is either a liar… or a fool.
i found a used condom in my garden last night.fantastic. so much for the ‘quiet elderly neighbourhood’…this time i hope the estate agent was lying.
It was used up. The old bag on the motorway verge. At last.
i was used today, i was used tomorrow. i was gone yesterday. and won’t see the morning. i loved you too soon. i let go to hard. i need you back. for i was used today.
Used. That’s what I feel like. I can’t believe he’d DO something like this to me. Or even that he’d be ABLE to do this.
I feel so… empty. He’s gone. I’m never getting him back. That’s when the reality hits, and that’s when I collapse to the floor, sobbing my heart out.
That sounds so cheesy, now I think it over.
my journey to earth was finally complete.”smash!!!”where there used to be a brand new lexus 350 was now a totally destroyed automobile.
The smiles used to be real
I used to be happy
I used to sing in the morning
I used to love to talk to you
I used to have friends
I used to have scarless skin
I used to like myself
Maybe I used to be pretty.
But I’ve been used.
And now nothing is as good.
I feel so used. He said I was the one, but I only helped to make him happy. And more popular. The fact is, I’m not that special. I’m one seventh of a group that is special to millions. I’m fourteen percent special. The other eighty-six percent doesn’t belong here.
He laid there with his eyes blank and his mind reeling. He breathed shallowly and quickly, knowing a few things. First of all, he knew he was bleeding. Torn. Second, he knew his three-piece suit was ruined. Third, he knew Eames would save him. Eames always saved him… always…
She drove into the used car lot, her old chevy rattling and shaking as if it were on its last legs. As if it were a person laying on his death bed. The salesman, his hair slick and shiny with grease, came out to greet her as her car sputtered to a stop. He reached out a hand to open her door, and she sighed, not wanting to give up the car that had carried her for so many miles.
I used the word because a lot. I do not why? I guess it is just a habit after 16 years of schooling. On the other hand, used, is a word I rarely use.
Used. I’ve been used time and time again. By friends, family, strangers. My family, the people you never ever expect to use you, used me for money, attention, and someone to place blame on. My friends use me for someone to listen to them, but are never there for me in the end. Strangers, only the world knows how they use me.
dirty, torn
rough around the edges
faded
frayed
holes
strings
old, aged
seen more than the town whore
hand-me-down
Jeans
used
used up
underused
overused
worn
worn down
downtown
townhouse
housewares
goods
used goods. take care.
Used’m up like a broken potato, I did. Taught’m a lesson ain’t like to be repeated I dare reckon. Haw! Gad dyam if I ain’t one o’ the hollerin’est fellers you ever done met.
The water is all used up. We’re finished. Gone. Dead.
What if there is no water anywhere now? I wouldn’t be surprised. How can one place be so dry and barren, but others wet and lush. I cannot believe that I was once serene, that my throat was once soothed and cool. That my brow was not covered in a hot sweat.
I think I am dying. I know I am dying.
I just hope that wherever is next, it has water there.
i sank deep down. like an old dirty towel that no one wanted. used up and spat out. hopeless determination wasted. what a pity. it was my never-ending story of down the drain. over and over
I am all used up
After a week at the
High school
Where I change lives
One smile at a time
It’s a wonder how much
Knowing that
Someone in the
World
Truly cares