“And fuck you right back” she had said politely, before she packed her bags and left. And just by that sentence one could, for a second, understand clearly the paradox she encompassed as a human being living in the constant confusion that is her life. A beautiful girl in a destroyed world.
polite, she was so polite. i never saw this coming. she was so articulate and had a sweet demeanor. i never thought she would break his heart. i never thought she would destroy him.
Jenny was never the polite types. Her dress torn and ragged with the fight she had had with the neighbourhood dog was a tell tale.
Coming back home from the school, she literally took pains to piss off as many people as possible.
she trembled, her hands on the cup white and bloodless.
“i believe it is time for me to go,” he said, and how polite his tone was shoved daggers into her breast. she watched him stand and turn without looking around, leaving the store and her broken heart behind.
she sipped the drink and tasted nothing, and cried empty tears.
His clipped, polite manner stopped at the hard glint in his eyes. When they shook hands, the man’s gloved left hand, loose at his side, seemed to twitch. There are so many places he would rather be right now than talking to me, she thought. What does he have to hide?
Dylan was very polite last night when he shared his cigarettes with me, unfortuently I’m not a smoker and this morning I’m suffering with smokers throat. It hurts like a bitch.
I do hope that he remains polite when we go to Iceland because I have put so much time and thought into this trip and all I get from him is anger and rudeness… and grumpyness. Stupid male.
I have tried so hard to be good and nice and I thought things had improved in Venice but then he was ignoring me and being a dick for a good part of the night until he got drunk… as usual.
I’m starting to question if out friendship is worth pursuing. I mean, he’s a nice person but too much work sometimes.
I do feel that he’s the girl and I’m the guy in our friendship sometimes.
Dylan was very polite last night when he shared his cigarettes with me, unfortuently I’m not a smoker and this morning I’m suffering with smokers throat. It hurts like a bitch.
I do hope that he remains polite when we go to Iceland because I have put so much time and thought into this trip and all I get from him is anger and rudeness… and grumpyness. Stupid male.
I have tried so hard to be good and nice and I thought things had improved in Venice but then he was ignoring me and being a dick for a good part of the night until he got drunk… as usual.
I’m starting to question if out friendship is worth pursuing. I mean, he’s a nice person but too much work sometimes.
I do feel that he’s the girl and I’m the guy in our friendship sometimes.
I’m not polite.
I’m not docile.
Yes, I’m a lady. But that means nothing.
Politeness? Is it weakness?
Heh, depends on who you are.
I, however, am not polite.
And never will be.
He was oh so polite. He smiled and shook his head sadly and said that it wasn’t me, it was him, and that I was so wonderful that I’d find the right person soon. I wish he’d just hit me instead.
The world is not a polite place to live. People are always killing and stabbing people. The Zimmerman case people keep breaking out in riots and hurting people. The world is not a polite place to live.
I saw a polite girl at a garden party last Sunday, she wore pink shoes and a velvet hat. She seemed distant and other-worldly, like she wasn’t even present on the planet. Her name was Irma. She was my mother.
Be polite. Be kind and behave. Watch your manners. You’re a lady so act like one. This is the prince we’re talking about after all. Smile. Giggle. Bat your eyelashes. This might be your only chance.
The etiquette of a time and a place can be a minefield of what is polite and what is not. In one place a smile is a friendly response, in others viewed as a baring of teeth, either anxiously or aggressively.
I have always been a polite person, and as far I can remember, it was the one trait that distinguished me when I was growing up. My mother taught me that I should say good morning to every one that I came in contact with, that is what is called being polite.
What is be polite? Is it open the door to your mates? Is it smile in the bad moments too? Is it not to talk bad of others? Is it prevent to yawn? I think it is different in each culture, but there is one universal thing : Do not disturb the other!!
There are times when she wonders about the purpose of manners. They seem archaic to her, a girl with both feet very firmly planted in the twenty-first century. If she’s learned anything from her mother, it’s that politeness seldom gets you what you want. That’s what aggression and ambition are for.
Jack sat down across from the potential client. He needed this sale really badly, and if he let it get away he’d hate himself. He smiled politely as he moved his chair forward, all the while consciously keeping his rage in check.
If he lost it today, he would lose a lot more than just his composure.
I felt the rage inside me building up, like an army scaling a city wall. As it approached the top, I could tell things were about to get messy.
“… I mean, I’m not saying it’s wrong to believe in stuff. Just don’t do it near me. Those arabs and their bombs, the dumb christians and their lies, all that buddha junk… People that stupid shouldn’t be let in to society, you know. Angels and magic, no thanks. Keep what you think to yourself.”
Politely, I stayed silent. Politely, I ignored the young man who ignored his own, intolerant advice. The wall of ‘Politeness’ continued to grow.
He’s a polite boy. He says please and thank you, and he keeps his elbows off the table when he eats. He pulls out chairs for the girls he dates, and he’ll never kiss and tell.
“And fuck you right back” she had said politely, before she packed her bags and left. And just by that sentence one could, for a second, understand clearly the paradox she encompassed as a human being living in the constant confusion that is her life. A beautiful girl in a destroyed world.
all that’s past is on the inside
screams to dream seems so beside
the point is moot as the lines collide
it takes a lot to be polite
polite, she was so polite. i never saw this coming. she was so articulate and had a sweet demeanor. i never thought she would break his heart. i never thought she would destroy him.
Polite people are wonderful to be around. Impolite people are not.
Jenny was never the polite types. Her dress torn and ragged with the fight she had had with the neighbourhood dog was a tell tale.
Coming back home from the school, she literally took pains to piss off as many people as possible.
I haven’t got a colour I want to write today, apart from the yellow spilling from a smile.
the way he stared was blank and empty.
she trembled, her hands on the cup white and bloodless.
“i believe it is time for me to go,” he said, and how polite his tone was shoved daggers into her breast. she watched him stand and turn without looking around, leaving the store and her broken heart behind.
she sipped the drink and tasted nothing, and cried empty tears.
His clipped, polite manner stopped at the hard glint in his eyes. When they shook hands, the man’s gloved left hand, loose at his side, seemed to twitch. There are so many places he would rather be right now than talking to me, she thought. What does he have to hide?
Dylan was very polite last night when he shared his cigarettes with me, unfortuently I’m not a smoker and this morning I’m suffering with smokers throat. It hurts like a bitch.
I do hope that he remains polite when we go to Iceland because I have put so much time and thought into this trip and all I get from him is anger and rudeness… and grumpyness. Stupid male.
I have tried so hard to be good and nice and I thought things had improved in Venice but then he was ignoring me and being a dick for a good part of the night until he got drunk… as usual.
I’m starting to question if out friendship is worth pursuing. I mean, he’s a nice person but too much work sometimes.
I do feel that he’s the girl and I’m the guy in our friendship sometimes.
Dylan was very polite last night when he shared his cigarettes with me, unfortuently I’m not a smoker and this morning I’m suffering with smokers throat. It hurts like a bitch.
I do hope that he remains polite when we go to Iceland because I have put so much time and thought into this trip and all I get from him is anger and rudeness… and grumpyness. Stupid male.
I have tried so hard to be good and nice and I thought things had improved in Venice but then he was ignoring me and being a dick for a good part of the night until he got drunk… as usual.
I’m starting to question if out friendship is worth pursuing. I mean, he’s a nice person but too much work sometimes.
I do feel that he’s the girl and I’m the guy in our friendship sometimes.
I’m not polite.
I’m not docile.
Yes, I’m a lady. But that means nothing.
Politeness? Is it weakness?
Heh, depends on who you are.
I, however, am not polite.
And never will be.
Being polite means your parents up-brought you nice. Not everyone in this world is polite as me. Hahaha! So…
He was oh so polite. He smiled and shook his head sadly and said that it wasn’t me, it was him, and that I was so wonderful that I’d find the right person soon. I wish he’d just hit me instead.
I wanted to borrow something.
So I crept.
On tiptoes.
Into your room.
You were asleep.
And I didn’t want to wake you.
So I took.
What I meant to borrow.
And stole.
The world is not a polite place to live. People are always killing and stabbing people. The Zimmerman case people keep breaking out in riots and hurting people. The world is not a polite place to live.
I saw a polite girl at a garden party last Sunday, she wore pink shoes and a velvet hat. She seemed distant and other-worldly, like she wasn’t even present on the planet. Her name was Irma. She was my mother.
Be polite. Be kind and behave. Watch your manners. You’re a lady so act like one. This is the prince we’re talking about after all. Smile. Giggle. Bat your eyelashes. This might be your only chance.
Thankyou’s are not necessary, if you do not mean it
Politeness should not be instinctive, if there is no meaning to your words
you should be polite
under the full moon light
then werewolf won’t bite
when you’re in his sight
I was all hello, please, and thank you
and than
the coffee hit my blood stream
and I swallowed my pride
and ran off with out even a good bye.
The etiquette of a time and a place can be a minefield of what is polite and what is not. In one place a smile is a friendly response, in others viewed as a baring of teeth, either anxiously or aggressively.
I have always been a polite person, and as far I can remember, it was the one trait that distinguished me when I was growing up. My mother taught me that I should say good morning to every one that I came in contact with, that is what is called being polite.
What is be polite? Is it open the door to your mates? Is it smile in the bad moments too? Is it not to talk bad of others? Is it prevent to yawn? I think it is different in each culture, but there is one universal thing : Do not disturb the other!!
you want me to be
polite
when i turn you down
(you would rather that i smile,
take out my headphones,
lower my book,
look at you,
respond
write down a number that isn’t
fake
then wait for you to call
wait for you to woo me
dinner and a movie
wait to spread my legs
cry out in ecstasy
at the first measly thrust
but
you would settle for
a gentle hand
an apologetic decline
preferably
‘i have a boyfriend’
prefaced by
‘i think you’re cute, but’
you would still scowl
of course
you would still drink bitterness
you would talk about
how lonely you are
when lovely bitches
can’t see past your exterior
though at least
at least
if i were pleasant
courteous
friendly
you would not wish for my death
to my face)
where were your manners
when you shoved
yourself into me
when i told you not to.
There are times when she wonders about the purpose of manners. They seem archaic to her, a girl with both feet very firmly planted in the twenty-first century. If she’s learned anything from her mother, it’s that politeness seldom gets you what you want. That’s what aggression and ambition are for.
Jack sat down across from the potential client. He needed this sale really badly, and if he let it get away he’d hate himself. He smiled politely as he moved his chair forward, all the while consciously keeping his rage in check.
If he lost it today, he would lose a lot more than just his composure.
I felt the rage inside me building up, like an army scaling a city wall. As it approached the top, I could tell things were about to get messy.
“… I mean, I’m not saying it’s wrong to believe in stuff. Just don’t do it near me. Those arabs and their bombs, the dumb christians and their lies, all that buddha junk… People that stupid shouldn’t be let in to society, you know. Angels and magic, no thanks. Keep what you think to yourself.”
Politely, I stayed silent. Politely, I ignored the young man who ignored his own, intolerant advice. The wall of ‘Politeness’ continued to grow.
He’s a polite boy. He says please and thank you, and he keeps his elbows off the table when he eats. He pulls out chairs for the girls he dates, and he’ll never kiss and tell.