adj. Lasting for only a limited period of time; not permanent. .......lasting for only a limited period of time. I find so much peace in the word temporary. It brings me an extreme amount of comfort knowing that every single thing that surrounds me is merely temporary. The moment I exist in now, I will not exist in moments from now and that is amazing. This didn't truly become aware to me until I needed to hear it the most. I've opened up about this once before but I get asked about it all the time so I felt it could be beneficial to share once again. Placed on my left bicep is the word "temporary" with the NEDA symbol replacing the "o." This derives from the fact that we as human beings have such a bad habit of focusing on one thing …show more content…
I repeated over and over that I was giving up. Trying to better myself has been so much harder than destroying myself ever was. "I'm stuck like this." "My life is going to be this way forever." .. thoughts that I, and I'm sure you, have thought way too often. Yet, something my mom and team of nurses tried to remind me during this time was that, "It's only temporary." As I sat there crying my mom said, "Everything you're feeling right now is only temporary." And for some reason, that really stuck with me and I've used it as daily motivation …show more content…
Your happiest times will slip past you, for just as your bad times, they are merely temporary. And while this can come off as depressing, to me, it helps me appreciate every person and moment in my life so much more. Instead of letting my moments truly slip through my fingers, I like to document them, whether it be through pictures, saving souvenirs, or journaling about it later on. It may not be the same as living in that moment, but keeping a part of that day allows me to look back and recall all the happiness and blissfulness I
THE PAST :.. In days gone by, the four species managed to live in perfect harmony. Witches, werewolves and vampires lived in secret, blending in with the humans on a daily basis - and the humans remained completely in the dark about their existence. It was after thousands of years of living this way, whilst everything was completely normal, that a small group of vampires decided that they’d had enough. They spent months devising plans.
One rather beautiful day I head down to the building fields of Uruk with my only son Urnabe. He is 14 and he is turning out to be a skilled mason or at least better than his old man. When we get there I see that Binfem was already waiting for me.
Thinking about my childhood, I remember many things that influenced me as a person and changed or evolved my perspective of the world, its peoples and its things. One of my most vivid memories that this essay is about, changed the way I represented myself to the world and the way I felt being exposed to it. -- Being lost or forgotten at a young age is a bone-chilling experience that all of us have to go through, at one point or another. So, here I was, at the age of three, left all alone at a carnival in Muscat, Oman.
The Creature That Opened My Eyes Sympathy, anger, hate, and empathy, these are just a few of the emotions that came over me while getting to know and trying to understand the creature created by victor frankenstein in Mary Shelley’s Frankenstein. For the first time I became completely enthralled in a novel and learned to appreciate literature not only for the great stories they tell but also for the affect it could have on someones life as cliché as that might sound, if that weren’t enough it also gave me a greater appreciation and understanding of the idiom “never judge a book by its cover.” As a pimply faced, insecure, loner, and at most times self absorbed sophomore in high school I was never one to put anytime or focus when it came time
even for a short time, the mind gets refreshed and this ultimately helps towards attainment of
Nostalgia. That’s what I’d felt, it was like an overwhelming wave of worry and happiness holding me back and not letting go, and it was. I’d also felt pain, but that was probably from the broken arm. It had been five years since I’d seen V and here we were again, both in the hospital, of our own accord. Again. My heart pumped, and I couldn’t sit still. We’d fought, literally all the time, on purpose. It’s not like we hated each other or anything. It was just our way of having fun. This is a weird way of fun. Said everyone but us.
she always used to wish for a way to escape her life. She saw memories
You heard your ringtone suddenly go off, disturbing the quiet of your bedroom. You felt really lousy that morning so called in sick at your job and you didn’t get out bed all day. Except to go to the bathroom to throw up. You didn’t know what time it was but you didn’t move to answer your phone. It was all the way on the other side of the room and you really didn’t feel like moving when you didn’t have to. Just as the ringing stopped and you tried to go back to sleep, you had the throw up. In your haste to run to the bathroom you didn’t register the fact that your phone went off again.
In the bright early morning, the sun shone in on the white marble pillars and the stone floor was bleached white with light. In the throne room all the gods had left to do their duties to the mortals. Zeus and Poseidon though remained sitting on golden thrones high up above the ground.
Habits of the Creative Minds is a simple textbook with a particular twist. I began reading the book thinking it was going to be a basic textbook, but the author,Richard E. Miller and Ann Jurecic, changed the tone of the book and put it into a metaphor. This metaphor was about the reader in your writing, or for anyone reading should feel like Alice in Alice’s Adventures in Wonderland. The reader should be reading, and figuratively fall into the reading, by this the authors means the reader should not want to put that book down. They should be engulfed in the book and read from cover to cover. The attention must be maintained and the best way to do this is by making the writing unique. The authors of this book puts
The smell of the fire permeated the room, wisps of black charcoal smoke curled and pranced their way through the thick, suffocating air as if excited to escape the venomous chamber. The smoke soon flattened in the heavy air and shrouded the lifeless corpses of the prisoners. Beside the towering heaters and the dead carcass were rows of flimsy benches; strategically mounted inside of the cramped bunker to make it harder to escape. The cold, cement walls were decorated with windows that were boarded shut. There were also markings that had been carved out on the wall, one stroke for each that was spent rotting in the chamber.
Autumn pulls out the books of her crumbling locker, afraid of it all collapsing on her. Her locker was on the top and this was great considering her height. Her brunette hair falls to her face as she bends down to pick up her fallen pencil case. She places it on her books and begins to close her locker. She swivels around on her semi-high heels and walks away to her dreaded English class. As she passes the musty classrooms her eyes glaze over her reflection. Most people would see a light hazel-eyed girl looking back with bouncy curls defining her perfect face. Bu all she sees is a slightly crooked nose only noticeable with a protractor and one forming pimple which could be only spotted with a microscope. The flaws, in herself but the rest of the world sees her beauty, both in and out. Except for a group made with the most sinister monsters alive.
When I finally reached my locker, I collapsed onto the floor. I sat on my knees, unlocked the metal door, and all but threw my things into it. Weighted with exhaustion, I pulled out all the supplies I would need for class before slamming the locker door, and rising to my feet. Just as I was about to turn down the hall, I was alerted by the sudden presence of another person standing in my way.
But the moment of escape had arrived. However, each time that the sharp and deadly blade swung over me, it left me in agonizing pain. It kept swinging over me. It was swinging ever so slowly and graceful, yet deadly. All of a sudden, I snapped out of a daze that I was in from looking at the blade and knew that I needed to get out of there.
“That’s so…. Exciting Kait, good for you,” Jennifer says in an unimpressed and uninterested tone. We’d been best friends since before high school, but now that we’ve gone our separate ways in the wake of college, I’ve seen how unsupportive she really is. I had just finished telling her about the tickets I’d bought to Melanie Nguyen’s show, which is much later tonight. Fancy recitals had never been Jennifer’s “thing”—as she often so eloquently put it—and so I nearly always had to go alone, no matter who was playing or singing. I put my hand over the microphone in my cell and let out a quiet little sigh of disappointment,