This AI driven text generator is really good:
I wrote just “I am waiting” and pressed the button. Some minutes later this output returned:
i am waiting" were just “two or three weeks of a year. Then when the wind and snow finally stopped, he was in his element.” In other words, the kids had a lot to prove.
But what a difference six months — a year, a life, a whole.
This past Christmas, my wife was at my brother’s house for Thanksgiving with my son. We were supposed to go for a drive. But after my wife and my 9-year-old son left for Canada, I drove to an airport to pick my son up in LA and drag him down in my purse. It took him about two hours to arrive at the airport, to pick it up out of my purse again.
I had no idea that I was doing this. But, it was like the end is nigh. This was my fourth full trip to L.A. in two years, and this trip, the fifth total — and, I would argue, best of all, a fourth trip to L.A. for Christmas.
My wife and I were in our car and were already in the driveway, and on a very beautiful, gleaming white Honda I drove down in my black Chevy Malibu, which was the only thing that stood out to me. It had a sticker with “We Can See This Coming” and it listed our vacation plans. It had an “International Event” sticker. As I leaned against the car, my eyes began to open wide. In my hands, a few words — “We Can See This Coming Coming Coming Coming” again. It had stickers on it.
“We Can See This Coming Coming Coming Coming Coming” means, in essence, that we can both enjoy and enjoy the very moment — even when life seems too arduous to put it in the best hands possible — that we were doing it on our own. It was, in fact, my greatest “we” trip of the one hundred forty-six years that I’ve been around to make.
That is, until one day later, when I noticed that a fellow dog had jumped at the window of a car. I had no idea that this had been happening. I had no idea that this had been happening. I had no idea that this had been happening. It had been happening for as long as I could remember, and I had been thinking: “I have the feeling that this is happening. I can’t comprehend this”.
By this time, the world had changed. Life no longer seemed like a matter of things going to hell, nor does it matter how many times it has taken me to do something that has absolutely zero significance to me.
It made me wonder how I had been able to endure such a long time of suffering. I had believed that if I could cope with all the suffering associated with my wife — her behavior — then, at least, that I was doing something right. It made me wonder how I could cope with my wife. I had no idea how he could get out of my mind like this.
I had not known this all. I had never thought in detail about my wife. I had not known how I could cope with a little depression. I had not known about the way she had treated her — and how she had acted with such lack of control and reluctance — but I had not known that at that age it had been the only thing that kept me sane, even though I knew everything about her.
I had not known anything about her. I had not known anything about her. I had not known anything about her. I had not known anything about her behavior. I had not known anything about her behavior.
I had not known anything about the way she had treated her. I had not known anything about her behavior. I had not known anything about her behavior.
When I was in fifth grade, the first thing my neighbor said to me was: “Your husband can go to hell if you throw acid in your nose,” my friend said. “Your husband can call the cops, but he can’t go inside his house.”
It was as though she had been screaming in her head for six or seven months, and I had never heard her utter the phrase: “Go to hell, your husband can go inside his house.” She had never heard my neighbor utter that phrase. I had not seen her scream or scream or scream or scream. I had not known anyone else in my family, friends, or friends. I had not known anyone else in my family, friends, or friends.
I had not experienced anything like that at the time of my fifth year.
At that time, my roommate and I had both left for L.A. and to return to Long Beach. I had also not experienced any of what they had been doing in L.A., but I had never seen them cry before or since.
As we both went to school together — I had a degree in mathematics — my