A word, if you would. The times I’ve thought about personalities: how they interact, how they repel….and attract, could amount to a tesseract of time. I just had to get something out off the top of my head or else I’d head to bed in a state of disrepair, so I repent at this keyboard in hopes I can sleep more.
I think anything can have a personality. Living or dead. What gives something or someone personality? Physical characteristics, movement, motion, choices, sounds, reactions… Personality exists in everything and everyone.
I don’t care any more. I just simply don’t care what they all think of me. I’m hot and sexy, my hair is flawless, my teeth are gorgeous and my personality is to die for! What’s wrong!
What’s a personality? It’s what or who we think we are. It defines us and tells the world who you are. It’s the result of a lifetime of experience and the way you see the world. Everyone’s got one and everyones’ ios different no two are alike.
personality is a good thing to have, everybody has one but not everybody has an interesting one. I like to think my personality if fun, but other people seem to disagree with that, but in the end all that matters is what you think about yourself.
She was beautiful not just in body but personality as well; her wit, sharp and precise, sparkled radiantly as she made her way around the room, making even those graced with the least of her attentions feel uncommonly blessed.
Personality is like a plague. You can’t escape it. You can’t do anything about it. I mean, nothing physical at least. It will always be there. You could deny it. You could forgive it. You could hate it or love it wish it was different or gone. But no matter what it is there and it is not going away. IN a sense its a part of human magnificence. Each of us has a personality and none of us can lose it. It’s us.
it was just so old.
the tree swayed softly, light on its feet
the way fat cats aren’t supposed to be.
but it was still a tree.
the roots still ran deep.
it still couldn’t run away from the bad things.
it had personality and fear like we all do.
my personality is basically bland or a mix of bland and then fire it’s like a two sided thing really, I don’t understand it myself. Like who am I really? Is my personality me? Or is it just a part of me? Who am i really? My personality is loud at the same time quite and introverted I prefer books over clubs yet I prefer screaming over silence. I prefer to hear the chatters and murmurs of a crowded cafe than a library than can be filled with cacophony of sound! I love sound and yet I prefer to be the silent one. I don’t know really, my personality is a little complex. I am not complicated just how to describe my personality is complicated.
Something everyone has. What I have. What he has. What she has. Personality. The real thing. Fall in love with this. Not looks. He is not his face. He is his insides. She is her thoughts, not her breasts. Be who you are. Yes you.
Personality is a rather surface level of anyone’s life. You have to wonder sometimes what’s behind that personaltiy you find so engaging. Is it just a show meant for public consumption, or is it real.
Personalities are weird. They come in all different shapes and sizes and forms. You can get a personality that looks like a dragon, strong and hot and fierce. Other personalities seem like small flowers, beautiful but meek and part of something more grand. They complete everyone, complete us. Sometimes the dragon needs to find its flower, the one that calms it more than anyone else could.
My personality can’t be described with words
more of colours
like the golden of the sun in the morning rise
and the deep green of the evergreen tree
the depths of the ocean
navy and black
the pink of a rose bud on the first morning of spring
my personality is a mix of colours
an arrangement of feelings and splatters
never the same
never can it be re-made
never will you see it again
It was just part of his personality. The sudden mood shifts, like dropping an ice cube into cold water. Quick and painful. Hot and cold. Shocking. Everyone around him always smiled and said it was okay, but it wasn’t. They were afraid.
Too much personality in one person–too short to contain all of that LIFE, living big-screen, big-mouth. Big personality, a TV personality, a talker–watching and waiting, seeing the thermostat of the room tick up up up with all the hot words. Hello again, goodbye again–hello, look how you’ve grown. Bigger is better, and a personality takes the room with it, imposes its own expectations. Hello, of course I remember you. I’ve heard so much.
His personality… it struck Nils like a charm. That’s it… I didn’t fell in love with his gender, I fell in love with his personality. With his smile and the way he looks at me and the way he strokes through his hair in the morning while he gives me a little stub in the side… I adore him.
She did not mean to, it was just something to do with her personality. Or at least that is what she had told herself. No wonder no one liked her, no wonder she always fucked up. It was inbuilt, something that she could not change even if she tried or wanted to. She was useless, worthless and born that way. Nothing could change her, nothing would change her. It was just the way she was.
I guess a person’s personality is a mirror to the soul or some shit. I also notice I tend to focus on myself a lot when I’m writing these things, which raises an interesting point about my own personality. Thanks, oneword, free self-psychoanalysis. yay
It wasn’t heated. It wasn’t an argument. It was honest telling. Open communication with his partner. She asked. He answered. No, he didn’t like that girl that way, not physically, not attracted to her, this girl. He didn’t want her to feel jealous in anyway. But she wanted to know. She laid beside him and asked again if he was attracted to her and he told her the truth. He said no. He simply wanted to say that the girl was nice and he liked her personality. He didn’t know how to make her believe him. He thought it was a good thing he had been honest about it all in the first place.
He was stunningly ugly, instead of beautiful. He had a face that would leave you in tears, but inside, she wondered if he was capable of good, despite the scowl and cruel features. Because thats how people work. You never know what could be lurking inside what they reveal.
though bright-eyed and attractive, she drew in only those with the darkest of personalities. She, at first, found this to be problematic but quickly, surely with passion found herself attracted to those darkest of all.
bright, dark illuminated fun attractive envy hate love like passion fake try impassioned loss win funny witty humorous lying dark comical dry hateful fun likeable enchanting
Personality. Wow. Where to begin? Well, every personality is different, no matter what. Sure, there are some similarities, but in reality we’re all our unique selves. We should embrace our individuality; highlight the good points, and accept any bad points, and strive to fix the negative things. But we also need to realize that a person’s traits are what makes them, THEM. We love people, not for just their good parts, but also for their quirks. I hope that made sense. :) Love people for who they are, not who you want them to be.
Mina’s personality was that of a old and rusty serrated bread knife. loud and annoying her voice shattered the peace in the room leaving leaving ripped crumbs of sanity strewn about the office floor.
She wheeled around on her heelies, smoothly riding the tile flooring of the empty school’s hallways. Her upbeat music blasted through her headphones, trying to help her push out the depression that clouded her insides. She hoped her personality would shine through, riding it all the way to cloud 9, away from the visages of her next door neighbors and their icy glares of judgment.
I’m an outskirts member of the Cult of Personality – I mean, look at me: I try to look good ’cause I want people to think I do, but when I get out, there’s always doubt, I’m pulling on my clothes, putting that loose hair in place using my last look in the mirror as a guide, but I can’t trust that, can I? so I have to excuse myself for a look in the ladies room and do I stink and does my perfume suit me and does my car say about me what I mean it to say? If I was a full-on member of the Cult, I’d be like Mussolini and Kennedy and there’d be no doubt I was a wolf in sheep’s clothing.
Personality is one thing he would never overlook. Maria had it all: a charm and a sweetness that could not be expressed in words. Her ready smile, her bright face, she was the world to him.
And now she was gone. Forever. If only he could remember every detail about her life and her past. She had died, because of him. Because of him, she had died. He wanted to bring her back.
I was familiar with her personality type. People like her were unintentionally manipulative – still caring, but more inclined to look out for one’s own needs. They were good with emotions, and that way they could discover new outlets to cultivate success or profit out of someone else’s pity. But again, they did it all unintentionally. They were ignorant of their own trickery.
There is no such thing in any real sense, is there? It’s just a stream of both conscious and unconscious thoughts. A continuum of who we are. A beautiful void.
We’re taking personality tests in Psychology class recently. Inkblots that look like trees and explosions and jack-o-lanterns to me look like entirely different things to someone else….
A word, if you would. The times I’ve thought about personalities: how they interact, how they repel….and attract, could amount to a tesseract of time. I just had to get something out off the top of my head or else I’d head to bed in a state of disrepair, so I repent at this keyboard in hopes I can sleep more.
I think anything can have a personality. Living or dead. What gives something or someone personality? Physical characteristics, movement, motion, choices, sounds, reactions… Personality exists in everything and everyone.
I don’t care any more. I just simply don’t care what they all think of me. I’m hot and sexy, my hair is flawless, my teeth are gorgeous and my personality is to die for! What’s wrong!
What’s a personality? It’s what or who we think we are. It defines us and tells the world who you are. It’s the result of a lifetime of experience and the way you see the world. Everyone’s got one and everyones’ ios different no two are alike.
personality is a good thing to have, everybody has one but not everybody has an interesting one. I like to think my personality if fun, but other people seem to disagree with that, but in the end all that matters is what you think about yourself.
She was beautiful not just in body but personality as well; her wit, sharp and precise, sparkled radiantly as she made her way around the room, making even those graced with the least of her attentions feel uncommonly blessed.
Personality is like a plague. You can’t escape it. You can’t do anything about it. I mean, nothing physical at least. It will always be there. You could deny it. You could forgive it. You could hate it or love it wish it was different or gone. But no matter what it is there and it is not going away. IN a sense its a part of human magnificence. Each of us has a personality and none of us can lose it. It’s us.
it was just so old.
the tree swayed softly, light on its feet
the way fat cats aren’t supposed to be.
but it was still a tree.
the roots still ran deep.
it still couldn’t run away from the bad things.
it had personality and fear like we all do.
If my personality were the same as everyone else’s, I’m pretty certain I’d kill myself.
Her personality looked like sour milk tasted. With the same soggy white complexion, her eyes were rimmed in a pink and her cheekbones a hollow yellow.
my personality is basically bland or a mix of bland and then fire it’s like a two sided thing really, I don’t understand it myself. Like who am I really? Is my personality me? Or is it just a part of me? Who am i really? My personality is loud at the same time quite and introverted I prefer books over clubs yet I prefer screaming over silence. I prefer to hear the chatters and murmurs of a crowded cafe than a library than can be filled with cacophony of sound! I love sound and yet I prefer to be the silent one. I don’t know really, my personality is a little complex. I am not complicated just how to describe my personality is complicated.
Treat lover, archangel, straight, family issues, little brother, horne dog, junk eater, tv lover.
Something everyone has. What I have. What he has. What she has. Personality. The real thing. Fall in love with this. Not looks. He is not his face. He is his insides. She is her thoughts, not her breasts. Be who you are. Yes you.
Personality is a rather surface level of anyone’s life. You have to wonder sometimes what’s behind that personaltiy you find so engaging. Is it just a show meant for public consumption, or is it real.
Personalities are weird. They come in all different shapes and sizes and forms. You can get a personality that looks like a dragon, strong and hot and fierce. Other personalities seem like small flowers, beautiful but meek and part of something more grand. They complete everyone, complete us. Sometimes the dragon needs to find its flower, the one that calms it more than anyone else could.
…well, this is awkward. . . .Layla.
My personality can’t be described with words
more of colours
like the golden of the sun in the morning rise
and the deep green of the evergreen tree
the depths of the ocean
navy and black
the pink of a rose bud on the first morning of spring
my personality is a mix of colours
an arrangement of feelings and splatters
never the same
never can it be re-made
never will you see it again
It was just part of his personality. The sudden mood shifts, like dropping an ice cube into cold water. Quick and painful. Hot and cold. Shocking. Everyone around him always smiled and said it was okay, but it wasn’t. They were afraid.
Too much personality in one person–too short to contain all of that LIFE, living big-screen, big-mouth. Big personality, a TV personality, a talker–watching and waiting, seeing the thermostat of the room tick up up up with all the hot words. Hello again, goodbye again–hello, look how you’ve grown. Bigger is better, and a personality takes the room with it, imposes its own expectations. Hello, of course I remember you. I’ve heard so much.
The personality of someone can change my entire view, be cautious of what spews from your mouth, or what you put in it.
His personality… it struck Nils like a charm. That’s it… I didn’t fell in love with his gender, I fell in love with his personality. With his smile and the way he looks at me and the way he strokes through his hair in the morning while he gives me a little stub in the side… I adore him.
She did not mean to, it was just something to do with her personality. Or at least that is what she had told herself. No wonder no one liked her, no wonder she always fucked up. It was inbuilt, something that she could not change even if she tried or wanted to. She was useless, worthless and born that way. Nothing could change her, nothing would change her. It was just the way she was.
Luke gives him a stern look, and asks in a very serious tone.
“So, how is she?”
Jim matches Luke’s tone.
“She’s got a great personality.”
Luke is unimpressed. He gives a huge sigh and frowns.
Jim’s blows up.
“What?! Is that bad? She’s got an attractive personality, and any guy would jump into a pit of fire to be with her.”
Luke isn’t convinced. He’s always dated girls who’s looks were their best qualities.
“Sorry man, just not for me.”
“That’s fine by me.”
Jim pulls out his phone and dials a number.
“Hey Lis, are you free this weekend?”
Me, myself and I. Who someone is, the qualities that define them. Not looks or expressions, just pure actions, thoughts, and desires.
I guess a person’s personality is a mirror to the soul or some shit. I also notice I tend to focus on myself a lot when I’m writing these things, which raises an interesting point about my own personality. Thanks, oneword, free self-psychoanalysis. yay
It wasn’t heated. It wasn’t an argument. It was honest telling. Open communication with his partner. She asked. He answered. No, he didn’t like that girl that way, not physically, not attracted to her, this girl. He didn’t want her to feel jealous in anyway. But she wanted to know. She laid beside him and asked again if he was attracted to her and he told her the truth. He said no. He simply wanted to say that the girl was nice and he liked her personality. He didn’t know how to make her believe him. He thought it was a good thing he had been honest about it all in the first place.
I don’t have a consistent personality, maybe thats a di
He was stunningly ugly, instead of beautiful. He had a face that would leave you in tears, but inside, she wondered if he was capable of good, despite the scowl and cruel features. Because thats how people work. You never know what could be lurking inside what they reveal.
though bright-eyed and attractive, she drew in only those with the darkest of personalities. She, at first, found this to be problematic but quickly, surely with passion found herself attracted to those darkest of all.
bright, dark illuminated fun attractive envy hate love like passion fake try impassioned loss win funny witty humorous lying dark comical dry hateful fun likeable enchanting
Personality. Wow. Where to begin? Well, every personality is different, no matter what. Sure, there are some similarities, but in reality we’re all our unique selves. We should embrace our individuality; highlight the good points, and accept any bad points, and strive to fix the negative things. But we also need to realize that a person’s traits are what makes them, THEM. We love people, not for just their good parts, but also for their quirks. I hope that made sense. :) Love people for who they are, not who you want them to be.
His personality was one of a slithering snake. He oozed slime.
Personalities come from more things than just persons, but they are all personal.
Mina’s personality was that of a old and rusty serrated bread knife. loud and annoying her voice shattered the peace in the room leaving leaving ripped crumbs of sanity strewn about the office floor.
She wheeled around on her heelies, smoothly riding the tile flooring of the empty school’s hallways. Her upbeat music blasted through her headphones, trying to help her push out the depression that clouded her insides. She hoped her personality would shine through, riding it all the way to cloud 9, away from the visages of her next door neighbors and their icy glares of judgment.
I’m an outskirts member of the Cult of Personality – I mean, look at me: I try to look good ’cause I want people to think I do, but when I get out, there’s always doubt, I’m pulling on my clothes, putting that loose hair in place using my last look in the mirror as a guide, but I can’t trust that, can I? so I have to excuse myself for a look in the ladies room and do I stink and does my perfume suit me and does my car say about me what I mean it to say? If I was a full-on member of the Cult, I’d be like Mussolini and Kennedy and there’d be no doubt I was a wolf in sheep’s clothing.
Personality is one thing he would never overlook. Maria had it all: a charm and a sweetness that could not be expressed in words. Her ready smile, her bright face, she was the world to him.
And now she was gone. Forever. If only he could remember every detail about her life and her past. She had died, because of him. Because of him, she had died. He wanted to bring her back.
I was familiar with her personality type. People like her were unintentionally manipulative – still caring, but more inclined to look out for one’s own needs. They were good with emotions, and that way they could discover new outlets to cultivate success or profit out of someone else’s pity. But again, they did it all unintentionally. They were ignorant of their own trickery.
There is no such thing in any real sense, is there? It’s just a stream of both conscious and unconscious thoughts. A continuum of who we are. A beautiful void.
We’re taking personality tests in Psychology class recently. Inkblots that look like trees and explosions and jack-o-lanterns to me look like entirely different things to someone else….