We are born to be blamed. It i a pre-requisite nowadays to blame everyone. Thinking that everything is fair. Everything happens for a reason. And for all fairness, we blame. I blame myself for writing here as well.
I could have blamed my parents, I could have blamed my ex, I could have blamed myself but what purpose would that serve? Better to take a look at my life today, accept it for what it is and push through to a bigger, brighter, better reality!
I feel that people who are blamed for something they did not do should stand up for themselves and be strong and the people who accused them should tell the truth and rat themselves out.
Why is it always me? They should just call me Jeffrey “Scapegoat” Clintock. Anytime anything goes missing, gets smashed, or otherwise isn’t how it’s supposed to be, they come find me. I’ve been in this holding cell more times than I’ve seen my kids in the last year.
you for everything – even well into my adulthood I held the grudge, and blamed you for twisting my life into knots. I couldn’t open my mouth in public without seeing your squinched up face.
All of his hate, self-loathing, and rage poured out onto the page. “It’s all your fault, you made me this way!” he wrote in all caps. Soggy words bleed down the page as tears fell from his eyes. He balled the note up and threw it over his shoulder, into the fire.
my sister blamed me. my sister blames my for my mothers death. it may have been because she was jealous that mommy loved me more… or maybe she saw something more in me. maybe she saw the flames in my eyes.
If your scintillating sarcasm sometimes shrapneled my soul, yes, I blamed you — even as my cringing cowardice compelled you to cackle in contempt; but no matter, for you could never win; no, no; you’d never win — because, because, because I still had all my liquid bicycles; those little liquid bicycles spinning spinning in my mind, in my mind my mind my mind. You couldn’t take that away from me, and you never did. You never could and you never did. And you blamed me, I know.
I felt like the sun was not able to accommodate me anymore, the apocalypse which happened in my stomach with the last glare from his eyes, bleeding into me an anger I had never thought could exist inside a human. Animals were placid but would not meet my eyes. I wish I could write.
The blame is falling on me for having my little “clique” all separate from the group. But guess what, you flaming bastard: they wanted to be away from you. You’re the only one to be blamed for making an environment so stressful that people can’t stand to camp next to you. You’re the one to blame for being such an ass that you slept alone.
Cal blamed me for everything: for her, for the car, the road, even the rain. As if I was some god of misadventure, of sorrow-in-waiting. As if I wanted this to happen.
In the end, she would not let me console her, which left me alone, to console myself, and who can do that? Without the best of bards at my side, I was bereft, and that is a singular thing, so far from consoled.
I cringed. I knew exactly what I was doing, but it backfired. I shouldn’t have trusted the spell on the bit of parchment. Now I’m going to be blamed for everything.
She blamed her recent cigareet smoking on all the usual factors; stress at work, stress in her marriage, the weather being too hot to run. But really she was regressing, falling into patterns established as far back as high school and college. Event the black clothes came back; it was if each puff pushed her back in time, when emotions were stronger and more pure.
He looked out over the world frantically. The Rifferax were everywhere, swarming and he blamed himself as he often does.
I walked up to him slowly..
“Doctor, we can do this…”
“He looked at me and reached for my hand, I know we can…let’s show them what a timelord and a human can do.”
allonsy
I do everything i can for you and it still always ends up this way, with me being blamed for everything at your sole discretion. you blame me for your failings and fail to give me credit where credit is due. sometimes i wonder why i am still here, how i can sleep with you next to me and secretly wondering why this is dragging on but hopelessly wanting it to work, to be able to call you mine for every day following this one. but i cant make you understand. i want you to want to fill the spaces in between. i don’t want to have to lay out a map for you in order for you to find a way to my heart. you should know by now and i shouldn’t have to ask. isn’t that what love is about? not having to ask anymore? i’m too confused to properly judge.
Mr. McGluck blamed “resonant quantum reductron fluctuations” for just about everything; yes, even the financial meltdown (and even his own). Everyone thought he was crazy; but one day, one day, oh yes, one day he’d show them all! There was still plenty of time to complete the field equations. Mr. McGluck was only sixty-five.
They blamed him for the blue oil rains — and that was doom! They crossed deserts in their oddly festooned, levitated caravans; searching for him. Elusion and subterfuge would be easy enough, for a time — even as dark dreams solemnly heralded the surety of ineluctable fate!
“Hey now, I don’t think I can be blamed for the mess here.”
She snorted. “The mess resulting in you becoming the figurehead of a political revolution, you mean? That mess right there? Because, I mean, from my understanding it’s pretty difficult for that to happen by accident.”
Yvonne clasped her wrist, sounding frantic. “No, Jasmine, you don’t get it! I didn’t choose it, I swear. They chose me. I didn’t know – you know what happened – I just came out of hospital and I mean I knew things were getting serious but they just adopted me as some public figure or something and it’s not-”
“Okay, okay, chill, partner.” Jasmine interrupted the increasingly panicked speech, breaking Yvonne’s grip on her wrist and intertwining their fingers instead. “What do you want to do?”
He blamed her for everything.
Blamed her for their failed marriage and for the way his mother treated him.
Blamed her for the fact his boss implied that he wanted to fire him because he did not do a proper job at whatever it was he was supposed to be doing. But he worried too much.
He blamed her for his worry, for the mess in his head.
He blamed her for everything and nothing.
And one day she could not take the blame any longer, and he could blame himself for her early departure.
He blamed her for his lack of feeling. He blamed her for his inability to communicate. He blamed her for the cold feeling in his chest. Why he married her he couldn’t remember. Then he burped and all was better.
We all know the story by now; an incident something occurs that we could have avoided, and we go all out to blame someone else for the problem, rather that to find a solution.
there was one small incident when i was blamed for doing something i never did. the teacher thought i was talking but i wasnt and got sent out of class this is boring yes i couldnt think of anything else
so now you’re gonna blame me for wasting your timeeeeeeee
It’s always your fault at the end of the day really. it can be all too easy to go ahead and look to others’ actions; blame them for the results, but you make the choices you have to make, and by and large they are yours alone.
His eyes blistered her soul with their scorching torches of hatred and blame. It was a look she never imagined from him. A look that made her bleed like it was her last moment,
She could tell from his scornful look and stiff demeanor that he blamed her fully for the dissapearance of the paper and there wasn’t a thing she could do about it. Opening er mouth, Lisa tried for a few words
The fault was no one’s really. It couldn’t have been.
But of course the last one out of the room had been Stiles. He hadn’t even done anything, yet here he was, serving detention for the ruckus that the werewolves had caused, again.
i have blamed myself for many things, rightfully, i might add
but the best thing i can say i have done this far is take action on the things i have blamed myself on.
Her eyes were like daggers, those warm brown irises piercing me through the torrent of tears flowing like rivers down two mud-streaked cheeks. Those pupils had grown in the darkness and seemed that her hatred had expanded as well. Without a second thought, she’d raised her arm and before I could hear the crack, I felt it ricochet throughout the thinly veiled alley and then come to rest in my bones. With my breath catching in my throat and my mind folding inwards, a sort of blackness came over me. Numb to my senses, I didn’t even realize I’d dropped the gun; the feeling of metal still stained my hand along with a warmth only I could recognize, for it radiated from within. Finally, I could escape her gaze long enough to stare at the ground as it rose up before me. Before I knew it, I could taste the concrete and smell the overflow of rust and salt- blood. Dimly, I watched as she dropped her own weapon, still smoking from recent discharge, and turned without a second glance. There I lay with only the earth and the night that surrounded me as companions and all I could remember thinking in those enraptured moments was that of penance. So as the blood flowed freely from my abdomen, I glorified the release of guilt from my shoulders to the point that when death finally greeted me, I was ready to welcome it with open arms. For, with its embrace, I was finally free.
Her eyes dared wildly about in a sickening frenzy. Her heart raced with an adrenaline that spilled into every crevasse of her body. the blame would fall on her family for the treachery she had taken part in. “I hope to god this is all worth it. I believe in you Haja” A tear slid down her cheek as she tipped the barrel of hot oil over her head and cooked herself alive
they blamed me for being who i was. there was no way of me changing the way i think, i will always lust for women. i just got tired of hiding it. the thing is, in my eyes, there is nothing wrong with this, so there is no blame to put anywhere. but they materialized blame and pinned it to me, a “worthless dyke” nametag to wear everywhere i go.
“I want to apologize, Fenton,” said Mr. Edwards apologetically, “if I’ve blamed you for this company’s problems.”
“I understand, sir,” Fenton replied in his wimpy, nasal voice.
“I’ve reviewed your quarterly performance report. I see that there is room for improvement. Pursuant to that, I’m giving you a series of action items which I want you to execute.”
“Yes, sir. What do you want me to do?”
“In a nutshell, Fenton, I would like you to: Synergize proactively, monetize mission-critical methodologies, cultivate comprehensive cross-platform cost-saving convergence, execute earnings enhancement efficiencies, enhance equity, disintermediate distributed deployment of downstream deliverables, normalize net-net nonnegative negotiables, interdelineate scalable robust granular paradigms, facilitate frictionless front-end fiducial functionalization, totalize transactive target-tailored tractables, create compelling content contextualizations, maximize ROI, optimize TCO, and (perhaps most important of all) incentivize, incubate, implement, integrate, and iterate innovative, impactful, interactively intermediated infrastructures.
I want to shake her and open her eyes to the sky above. So many stars, oh my, so many twinkling lights. She thinks she’s the sun, too bright to see anything else around her, and yet too dim to realize she’s not the only one. Blaming the earth for trying to keep her grounded, blaming the water for reflecting her follies, blaming the wind for carrying whispers of unrest.
Open your eyes, sister. We live for each other, not for ourselves.
It wasn’t his fault. He couldn’t be blamed. It was simple. He saw one word at the top of the screen. He had sixty seconds to write about it. When he clicked go, the page loaded with the cursor in place. He didn’t think; he just wrote.
We weren’t the only ones to be blamed. There were a few other men still hiding out there, just as guilty, dumbly clutching their clubs and lighters as they watched the collective consequences of their actions. However, luck was on their side that night—they were just out of reach of the beam of light. So when the shouting policemen came with their drooling, snapping dogs, we were the only ones shoved into the airless back of a black mariah while those fortunate other men looked on. None had the guts to come forth and set the record straight.
We are born to be blamed. It i a pre-requisite nowadays to blame everyone. Thinking that everything is fair. Everything happens for a reason. And for all fairness, we blame. I blame myself for writing here as well.
I could have blamed my parents, I could have blamed my ex, I could have blamed myself but what purpose would that serve? Better to take a look at my life today, accept it for what it is and push through to a bigger, brighter, better reality!
I feel that people who are blamed for something they did not do should stand up for themselves and be strong and the people who accused them should tell the truth and rat themselves out.
I was accused of doing something bad like cutting flowers
Plus I have seen people been blamed and then I saw the person who did it trying not to tell on themselves which for me is hard to do
Accused of something they did not do
I was accused of doing something bad like cutting flowers
Accused for something they did not do
Accused
Blamed
Tattled on
At the seen on accident
Why is it always me? They should just call me Jeffrey “Scapegoat” Clintock. Anytime anything goes missing, gets smashed, or otherwise isn’t how it’s supposed to be, they come find me. I’ve been in this holding cell more times than I’ve seen my kids in the last year.
you for everything – even well into my adulthood I held the grudge, and blamed you for twisting my life into knots. I couldn’t open my mouth in public without seeing your squinched up face.
All of his hate, self-loathing, and rage poured out onto the page. “It’s all your fault, you made me this way!” he wrote in all caps. Soggy words bleed down the page as tears fell from his eyes. He balled the note up and threw it over his shoulder, into the fire.
my sister blamed me. my sister blames my for my mothers death. it may have been because she was jealous that mommy loved me more… or maybe she saw something more in me. maybe she saw the flames in my eyes.
If your scintillating sarcasm sometimes shrapneled my soul, yes, I blamed you — even as my cringing cowardice compelled you to cackle in contempt; but no matter, for you could never win; no, no; you’d never win — because, because, because I still had all my liquid bicycles; those little liquid bicycles spinning spinning in my mind, in my mind my mind my mind. You couldn’t take that away from me, and you never did. You never could and you never did. And you blamed me, I know.
I felt like the sun was not able to accommodate me anymore, the apocalypse which happened in my stomach with the last glare from his eyes, bleeding into me an anger I had never thought could exist inside a human. Animals were placid but would not meet my eyes. I wish I could write.
The blame is falling on me for having my little “clique” all separate from the group. But guess what, you flaming bastard: they wanted to be away from you. You’re the only one to be blamed for making an environment so stressful that people can’t stand to camp next to you. You’re the one to blame for being such an ass that you slept alone.
Cal blamed me for everything: for her, for the car, the road, even the rain. As if I was some god of misadventure, of sorrow-in-waiting. As if I wanted this to happen.
In the end, she would not let me console her, which left me alone, to console myself, and who can do that? Without the best of bards at my side, I was bereft, and that is a singular thing, so far from consoled.
“The child didn’t know what she was doing.”
I cringed. I knew exactly what I was doing, but it backfired. I shouldn’t have trusted the spell on the bit of parchment. Now I’m going to be blamed for everything.
She blamed her recent cigareet smoking on all the usual factors; stress at work, stress in her marriage, the weather being too hot to run. But really she was regressing, falling into patterns established as far back as high school and college. Event the black clothes came back; it was if each puff pushed her back in time, when emotions were stronger and more pure.
He looked out over the world frantically. The Rifferax were everywhere, swarming and he blamed himself as he often does.
I walked up to him slowly..
“Doctor, we can do this…”
“He looked at me and reached for my hand, I know we can…let’s show them what a timelord and a human can do.”
allonsy
I do everything i can for you and it still always ends up this way, with me being blamed for everything at your sole discretion. you blame me for your failings and fail to give me credit where credit is due. sometimes i wonder why i am still here, how i can sleep with you next to me and secretly wondering why this is dragging on but hopelessly wanting it to work, to be able to call you mine for every day following this one. but i cant make you understand. i want you to want to fill the spaces in between. i don’t want to have to lay out a map for you in order for you to find a way to my heart. you should know by now and i shouldn’t have to ask. isn’t that what love is about? not having to ask anymore? i’m too confused to properly judge.
Mr. McGluck blamed “resonant quantum reductron fluctuations” for just about everything; yes, even the financial meltdown (and even his own). Everyone thought he was crazy; but one day, one day, oh yes, one day he’d show them all! There was still plenty of time to complete the field equations. Mr. McGluck was only sixty-five.
They blamed him for the blue oil rains — and that was doom! They crossed deserts in their oddly festooned, levitated caravans; searching for him. Elusion and subterfuge would be easy enough, for a time — even as dark dreams solemnly heralded the surety of ineluctable fate!
His parents, for not using a condom in the first place.
His girlfriend, for feeding his ego.
His genes, for producing that chinless mess.
His boss, for not firing him sooner.
God, for putting him on this fucking Earth in my fucking company all fucking day.
“Hey now, I don’t think I can be blamed for the mess here.”
She snorted. “The mess resulting in you becoming the figurehead of a political revolution, you mean? That mess right there? Because, I mean, from my understanding it’s pretty difficult for that to happen by accident.”
Yvonne clasped her wrist, sounding frantic. “No, Jasmine, you don’t get it! I didn’t choose it, I swear. They chose me. I didn’t know – you know what happened – I just came out of hospital and I mean I knew things were getting serious but they just adopted me as some public figure or something and it’s not-”
“Okay, okay, chill, partner.” Jasmine interrupted the increasingly panicked speech, breaking Yvonne’s grip on her wrist and intertwining their fingers instead. “What do you want to do?”
He blamed her for everything.
Blamed her for their failed marriage and for the way his mother treated him.
Blamed her for the fact his boss implied that he wanted to fire him because he did not do a proper job at whatever it was he was supposed to be doing. But he worried too much.
He blamed her for his worry, for the mess in his head.
He blamed her for everything and nothing.
And one day she could not take the blame any longer, and he could blame himself for her early departure.
He blamed her for his lack of feeling. He blamed her for his inability to communicate. He blamed her for the cold feeling in his chest. Why he married her he couldn’t remember. Then he burped and all was better.
We all know the story by now; an incident something occurs that we could have avoided, and we go all out to blame someone else for the problem, rather that to find a solution.
there was one small incident when i was blamed for doing something i never did. the teacher thought i was talking but i wasnt and got sent out of class this is boring yes i couldnt think of anything else
so now you’re gonna blame me for wasting your timeeeeeeee
It’s always your fault at the end of the day really. it can be all too easy to go ahead and look to others’ actions; blame them for the results, but you make the choices you have to make, and by and large they are yours alone.
His eyes blistered her soul with their scorching torches of hatred and blame. It was a look she never imagined from him. A look that made her bleed like it was her last moment,
She could tell from his scornful look and stiff demeanor that he blamed her fully for the dissapearance of the paper and there wasn’t a thing she could do about it. Opening er mouth, Lisa tried for a few words
The fault was no one’s really. It couldn’t have been.
But of course the last one out of the room had been Stiles. He hadn’t even done anything, yet here he was, serving detention for the ruckus that the werewolves had caused, again.
How did the adults break in any way?
i have blamed myself for many things, rightfully, i might add
but the best thing i can say i have done this far is take action on the things i have blamed myself on.
Her eyes were like daggers, those warm brown irises piercing me through the torrent of tears flowing like rivers down two mud-streaked cheeks. Those pupils had grown in the darkness and seemed that her hatred had expanded as well. Without a second thought, she’d raised her arm and before I could hear the crack, I felt it ricochet throughout the thinly veiled alley and then come to rest in my bones. With my breath catching in my throat and my mind folding inwards, a sort of blackness came over me. Numb to my senses, I didn’t even realize I’d dropped the gun; the feeling of metal still stained my hand along with a warmth only I could recognize, for it radiated from within. Finally, I could escape her gaze long enough to stare at the ground as it rose up before me. Before I knew it, I could taste the concrete and smell the overflow of rust and salt- blood. Dimly, I watched as she dropped her own weapon, still smoking from recent discharge, and turned without a second glance. There I lay with only the earth and the night that surrounded me as companions and all I could remember thinking in those enraptured moments was that of penance. So as the blood flowed freely from my abdomen, I glorified the release of guilt from my shoulders to the point that when death finally greeted me, I was ready to welcome it with open arms. For, with its embrace, I was finally free.
Her eyes dared wildly about in a sickening frenzy. Her heart raced with an adrenaline that spilled into every crevasse of her body. the blame would fall on her family for the treachery she had taken part in. “I hope to god this is all worth it. I believe in you Haja” A tear slid down her cheek as she tipped the barrel of hot oil over her head and cooked herself alive
they blamed me for being who i was. there was no way of me changing the way i think, i will always lust for women. i just got tired of hiding it. the thing is, in my eyes, there is nothing wrong with this, so there is no blame to put anywhere. but they materialized blame and pinned it to me, a “worthless dyke” nametag to wear everywhere i go.
“I want to apologize, Fenton,” said Mr. Edwards apologetically, “if I’ve blamed you for this company’s problems.”
“I understand, sir,” Fenton replied in his wimpy, nasal voice.
“I’ve reviewed your quarterly performance report. I see that there is room for improvement. Pursuant to that, I’m giving you a series of action items which I want you to execute.”
“Yes, sir. What do you want me to do?”
“In a nutshell, Fenton, I would like you to: Synergize proactively, monetize mission-critical methodologies, cultivate comprehensive cross-platform cost-saving convergence, execute earnings enhancement efficiencies, enhance equity, disintermediate distributed deployment of downstream deliverables, normalize net-net nonnegative negotiables, interdelineate scalable robust granular paradigms, facilitate frictionless front-end fiducial functionalization, totalize transactive target-tailored tractables, create compelling content contextualizations, maximize ROI, optimize TCO, and (perhaps most important of all) incentivize, incubate, implement, integrate, and iterate innovative, impactful, interactively intermediated infrastructures.
“Can you do it?”
“Yes, sir!”
I want to shake her and open her eyes to the sky above. So many stars, oh my, so many twinkling lights. She thinks she’s the sun, too bright to see anything else around her, and yet too dim to realize she’s not the only one. Blaming the earth for trying to keep her grounded, blaming the water for reflecting her follies, blaming the wind for carrying whispers of unrest.
Open your eyes, sister. We live for each other, not for ourselves.
guilt, justice, framed, accused
It wasn’t his fault. He couldn’t be blamed. It was simple. He saw one word at the top of the screen. He had sixty seconds to write about it. When he clicked go, the page loaded with the cursor in place. He didn’t think; he just wrote.
We weren’t the only ones to be blamed. There were a few other men still hiding out there, just as guilty, dumbly clutching their clubs and lighters as they watched the collective consequences of their actions. However, luck was on their side that night—they were just out of reach of the beam of light. So when the shouting policemen came with their drooling, snapping dogs, we were the only ones shoved into the airless back of a black mariah while those fortunate other men looked on. None had the guts to come forth and set the record straight.
I blamed her for everything. Your wiles took my judgment, your titties took my ambition,