i had faulted i can’t believe i had done this. this isn’t me i can’t have done something so evil i will never do something like this again i only thought of myself and thats not fair. How can I be so uncharacteristic like this people where hurt because of me. I loath some of my decisions
The scoreboard rang. I stopped and stared. The people cheered before falling silent. What had happened? Was that a foul? Was it a touchdown? Did the coliseum fall humble?
Emilee was making a video for her class about earthquakes. My cousin came and helped her with it. I got to be in it for a minute. I was my cousin’s daughter. :) She talked about faults and plates and other shiz. I got to pretend I had been in an earthquake. That’s a nice memory. :)
It was all my dogs fault when she took my dads bun off the table, he got very angry, and threatended to take her to the pound, but dont worry he was just joking
I faulted you — so you say. I would qualify my actions as being beneficial, but your inability to realize this makes you skew them as being the complete opposite.
The auditorium was filling quickly and David tried not to fidget as his eyes scanned the crowd once more for the face of his father. A dozen empty promises hadn’t tempered his hope that for once, he’d attend David’s performance. But then they closed the doors, and hope wilted like a dead flower. David clamped down on his bottom lip, and wiped furiously at his face. Stupid bright lights were making his eyes water.
the labyrinth of grey tubes, the heavy metallic shine that you could see all the way from the Cricht Tower, all of that was gone without a trace yesterday morning, Nobody could have faulted Noc’s execution of the order.
If I am faulted, I don’t know. Neither do I know if I’m gifted. Am I gifted with writing, poems and the love of animals? Am I gifted with something else that I’m not sure of? I prefer to write about majestic horses, mysterious fantasy, and about how great Jesus’ love is for us. Faulted doesn’t quite fit. Maybe that’s were I’m faulted. I’m faulted with the fault of not being able to write about other words like ‘faulted’.
He was faulted in he relationship. She faulted him. They were both at fault. They refused to admit their wrongs and see each other’s Riggs. From the beginning he expected her to use and hurt him and she expected him to play victim until the end. They blamed each other. They pointed fingers. They spoke negatively. She was at fault for inviting Alejandra to be the assistant director. He was at fault for mentioning a night when Alejandra threw herself at him. Alejandra was at fault for trying to break up a relationship. And most of all bella was at fault for refusing to see that until she worked for her image and respect she would not get it. Until she pushed her body to great lengths and traveled far and wide, great spans, great depths, great heights. Angled her body into strange contortions, spoke to the greatest people in the world and learned from them, spoke to all people of the world and learned from them, until then she could not gain respect. Until she made work she knew she had to do because she just had to do it, she would not get respect because she would not respect herself. So who was faulted in the lack of respect bella got? Bella, because she did not give it to herself. How would she get he respect she desired? By waking early, by training her body to achieve great, to run with the greats, to climb win the greats, to dance with the greats, to stretch and hold and lift with the greats. Until she teaches her voice to speak like the greats. Her mind to think like the greats. Until she gave in to the possibility that there were many many greats in everyone… Until she respected all others, for their knowledge and possibility, she would not get respect
Everything slipped through the crack– THE crack, though little ones splintered off it like kin, but no, it was just The Fault, the entire splitting of a planet, and that was what everything I’d once known slipped into. My house. My dog. My baby. My boyfriend. My lawn. My church. My gardening tools. The only thing that had stopped me from doing the same was a red SUV and 200 miles to keep me apart. I only wished I could join them.
Sometimes I feel faulted by society. I think all children in today’s society have been faulted by a lack of education about our world and our own government. Why does government and society have to hide everything from us? It will make our children none the wiser, and possibly worse off in the future.
The’y like to think that everyone is perfect. That everyone has the life. But they can’t see the parts of us that struggle. They don’t see the pain. The tears. The sorrow. But by not seeing that, They also don’t see the beauty in all of us.
Little children are absolutely faultless at this skill and I think it is something that they learn from a very young age. Nobody likes to be on the receiving end of a dressing down or other painful experience and therefor they learn quite quickly to channel the blame to someone else, not the least of which is their siblings.
Of course he was faulted. He sighs, holding back sobs and sliding down the door. He had so many faults. He was never good enough. He was broken. He had multiple faults all along his personality, and he was always at fault.
Faulted is a word that describes my life. I am a faulted person; if that is even proper english. Regardless of my actions, no matter how genuine and kindhearted they may be, I question them. I constantly feel as though I am some how being an annoyance to those around me. I constantly feel like I am doing something wrong. Make it stop.
I knew i was faulted from the moment I was born. That didn’t stop me from trying my hardest, however. I know that we can all work through our faults when we become aware of what they are. For example, I need to stop pleasing people when it interferes with my own happiness.
the folds of her cape were loose. maybe it had been the fault of a long study session, but he had more the impression that it was a less than noble roll in the hay that was to blame. but the cheeky girl just grinned at him, like she had never told him she loved him before coming back with the smell of someone else all over her clothes.
told not to think just write. too bad will be faulted for thinking. I am therefore I think. I think about this and that and a whole lot of other there instead of here. it can be a gift of no margins …
She couldn’t be faulted for making such a mistake. Everything about him screamed rebel. Really, if he didn’t want people pointing their fingers at him, he shouldn’t have dressed that way, shouldn’t have waved that attitude around.
Emma leaned her forehead against the wall, letting the cold, smooth stone ease the burning in her face. It would be alright. She breathed out heavily, anxious. No one would blame her.
An error. Accident. The Fault in our Stars… I know that’s pretty lame. Sports- as in tennis fault. I think of faulted as made a mistake. An oopsies. But not the end of the world.
As a person who faulted everyone for his misfortunes, Leonardo was doomed to spend the latter part of his life alone. Never mind that most of his problems stemmed from “the poor me” syndrome, he was really never going to see it that way.
Sometimes, you take a step and the moment your foot has touched the ground you’ve knew it was a mistake. Rather, from the moment your weight has shifted enough to make the movement of stepping irreversible. And when the step is taken, the faultlines shatter outwards – radiating like a spiderweb of cracks in ice – vibrating brokenness through your entire being. When you make the faultlines, you can’t un-make them. But walking forward is so much more difficult when you have to watch out for the shards.
He faulted her for the end of the relationship. That was how he put it. “I fault her for this whole thing.” He couldn’t simply say that she was tired of him, of his vain pronouncements, his sloppy mistakes; the way he left proof of his infidelities everywhere imaginable, not because he was too stupid to be deceitful but because he didn’t care whether she found them or not. He wasn’t dropping clues or his guard; he was lowering her self esteem with calculated ease. Nonetheless. It was her fault that the relationship ended. She couldn’t overlook things any more. In that way, it was her fault.
The customer faulted me for the bad product, which of course infuriated me. It was not up to me to check every box to see if a blender of microwave operated properly; that was on the manufacturer, not the cashier. And yet, here I was, staring down my scrawny manager, who drummed his fingers up and down the armrest of his chair like he was about to die at any moment.
“I might have to write you up for this,” he warned me.
So.
Something new.
Another lover and all the terrifying possibilities it brings.
Should I allow myself to want him? To think that he might want me?
Or should I just stay here, never kissing anyone, never moving my hips underneath the weight of another body, where I can never be faulted or rejected?
It seems easier this way.
No bloodshed.
No tears.
She didn’t think I could do this anyways. What did it matter to me now, knowing that she’s not even around anymore to be angry with me, to blame me for the stupid mistakes I keep making. One more beer, one more high, one more shady building on the wrong side of town. What’s it matter? Well, I guess as much as the fellows with the flashing lights think a cold body on cracked cement matters… They don’t matter either anyways.
In the beginning he took me to the savaged mountains of Scotland where once warriors had roamed, and battles had been fought and won. They were not mountains with peaks, rather hefty mounds of rounded earth, whose faces were wild and barren. Wind whipped. There was something about standing together on those mountains, faces titled upwards to the immense purple sky, that made us feel invincible. As if we too could be a part of history. When the rain came, as it inevitably did, we hunkered down inside ancient ruins and drank scotch, straight up, from his hip flask. It was inside one of those derelict castles that he told me the secret.
They always said it was Maria’s fault that they lost Abby. Maria didn’t watch, they said. Maria was distracted and hardly caught her as she fell. But I know the truth. It was me – it was my fault. I pushed Abby off the pier.
I’ve been heartbroken before. Again, and again, and again.
I feel broken, now. What do you do when you’ve been lost so many times that you can’t be found?
I think my faulted heart forgot how to love.
i had faulted i can’t believe i had done this. this isn’t me i can’t have done something so evil i will never do something like this again i only thought of myself and thats not fair. How can I be so uncharacteristic like this people where hurt because of me. I loath some of my decisions
I faulted the fault line of the New Madrid Fault line
The scoreboard rang. I stopped and stared. The people cheered before falling silent. What had happened? Was that a foul? Was it a touchdown? Did the coliseum fall humble?
No, I faulted.
The stone was broke it was faulted, the man criticized the older man for his mistake, he faulted the older man.
Emilee was making a video for her class about earthquakes. My cousin came and helped her with it. I got to be in it for a minute. I was my cousin’s daughter. :) She talked about faults and plates and other shiz. I got to pretend I had been in an earthquake. That’s a nice memory. :)
People blame me for EVERYTHING. They say it is all my fault things happen. They say ”Why do you have to be alive? This is all you’re fault.”
It was all my dogs fault when she took my dads bun off the table, he got very angry, and threatended to take her to the pound, but dont worry he was just joking
I faulted you — so you say. I would qualify my actions as being beneficial, but your inability to realize this makes you skew them as being the complete opposite.
Jasmine faulted the cat for stealing her cheese and her chicken.
The auditorium was filling quickly and David tried not to fidget as his eyes scanned the crowd once more for the face of his father. A dozen empty promises hadn’t tempered his hope that for once, he’d attend David’s performance. But then they closed the doors, and hope wilted like a dead flower. David clamped down on his bottom lip, and wiped furiously at his face. Stupid bright lights were making his eyes water.
Like a perpetual string of faulted steps I ruined my entire career path. Or did I? is this just a simple test?
You FOOL! This plan would’ve gone perfectly if you had not FAILED me! Another fault…I can’t tolerae
He was sunk. Absolutely fucked over in the worst way. And the ridiculous thing was, he did it to himself.
She’d never forgive him. He was sure of it. Everything else had been forgiven – forgotten anniversaries, late dates, social faux pas…. But this?
He blinked through his eyelashes at the naked girl in his bed and felt sick.
the labyrinth of grey tubes, the heavy metallic shine that you could see all the way from the Cricht Tower, all of that was gone without a trace yesterday morning, Nobody could have faulted Noc’s execution of the order.
The stars only shine when the sky has faulted to the night; only then do we see the transcendence of ourselves.
The stars only shine when the sky has faulted to the night, only do we see the transcendence of ourselves.
If I am faulted, I don’t know. Neither do I know if I’m gifted. Am I gifted with writing, poems and the love of animals? Am I gifted with something else that I’m not sure of? I prefer to write about majestic horses, mysterious fantasy, and about how great Jesus’ love is for us. Faulted doesn’t quite fit. Maybe that’s were I’m faulted. I’m faulted with the fault of not being able to write about other words like ‘faulted’.
He was faulted in he relationship. She faulted him. They were both at fault. They refused to admit their wrongs and see each other’s Riggs. From the beginning he expected her to use and hurt him and she expected him to play victim until the end. They blamed each other. They pointed fingers. They spoke negatively. She was at fault for inviting Alejandra to be the assistant director. He was at fault for mentioning a night when Alejandra threw herself at him. Alejandra was at fault for trying to break up a relationship. And most of all bella was at fault for refusing to see that until she worked for her image and respect she would not get it. Until she pushed her body to great lengths and traveled far and wide, great spans, great depths, great heights. Angled her body into strange contortions, spoke to the greatest people in the world and learned from them, spoke to all people of the world and learned from them, until then she could not gain respect. Until she made work she knew she had to do because she just had to do it, she would not get respect because she would not respect herself. So who was faulted in the lack of respect bella got? Bella, because she did not give it to herself. How would she get he respect she desired? By waking early, by training her body to achieve great, to run with the greats, to climb win the greats, to dance with the greats, to stretch and hold and lift with the greats. Until she teaches her voice to speak like the greats. Her mind to think like the greats. Until she gave in to the possibility that there were many many greats in everyone… Until she respected all others, for their knowledge and possibility, she would not get respect
Everything slipped through the crack– THE crack, though little ones splintered off it like kin, but no, it was just The Fault, the entire splitting of a planet, and that was what everything I’d once known slipped into. My house. My dog. My baby. My boyfriend. My lawn. My church. My gardening tools. The only thing that had stopped me from doing the same was a red SUV and 200 miles to keep me apart. I only wished I could join them.
1faulted = found another unbelievable level to enumerate domain
Sometimes I feel faulted by society. I think all children in today’s society have been faulted by a lack of education about our world and our own government. Why does government and society have to hide everything from us? It will make our children none the wiser, and possibly worse off in the future.
I walked up the street to my classes. An ambulance blared in front of me. Police blocked the road because a fault had opened. I took a detour.
The’y like to think that everyone is perfect. That everyone has the life. But they can’t see the parts of us that struggle. They don’t see the pain. The tears. The sorrow. But by not seeing that, They also don’t see the beauty in all of us.
Little children are absolutely faultless at this skill and I think it is something that they learn from a very young age. Nobody likes to be on the receiving end of a dressing down or other painful experience and therefor they learn quite quickly to channel the blame to someone else, not the least of which is their siblings.
Of course he was faulted. He sighs, holding back sobs and sliding down the door. He had so many faults. He was never good enough. He was broken. He had multiple faults all along his personality, and he was always at fault.
Faulted is a word that describes my life. I am a faulted person; if that is even proper english. Regardless of my actions, no matter how genuine and kindhearted they may be, I question them. I constantly feel as though I am some how being an annoyance to those around me. I constantly feel like I am doing something wrong. Make it stop.
I knew i was faulted from the moment I was born. That didn’t stop me from trying my hardest, however. I know that we can all work through our faults when we become aware of what they are. For example, I need to stop pleasing people when it interferes with my own happiness.
the folds of her cape were loose. maybe it had been the fault of a long study session, but he had more the impression that it was a less than noble roll in the hay that was to blame. but the cheeky girl just grinned at him, like she had never told him she loved him before coming back with the smell of someone else all over her clothes.
told not to think just write. too bad will be faulted for thinking. I am therefore I think. I think about this and that and a whole lot of other there instead of here. it can be a gift of no margins …
She couldn’t be faulted for making such a mistake. Everything about him screamed rebel. Really, if he didn’t want people pointing their fingers at him, he shouldn’t have dressed that way, shouldn’t have waved that attitude around.
Emma leaned her forehead against the wall, letting the cold, smooth stone ease the burning in her face. It would be alright. She breathed out heavily, anxious. No one would blame her.
An error. Accident. The Fault in our Stars… I know that’s pretty lame. Sports- as in tennis fault. I think of faulted as made a mistake. An oopsies. But not the end of the world.
As a person who faulted everyone for his misfortunes, Leonardo was doomed to spend the latter part of his life alone. Never mind that most of his problems stemmed from “the poor me” syndrome, he was really never going to see it that way.
Sometimes, you take a step and the moment your foot has touched the ground you’ve knew it was a mistake. Rather, from the moment your weight has shifted enough to make the movement of stepping irreversible. And when the step is taken, the faultlines shatter outwards – radiating like a spiderweb of cracks in ice – vibrating brokenness through your entire being. When you make the faultlines, you can’t un-make them. But walking forward is so much more difficult when you have to watch out for the shards.
He faulted her for the end of the relationship. That was how he put it. “I fault her for this whole thing.” He couldn’t simply say that she was tired of him, of his vain pronouncements, his sloppy mistakes; the way he left proof of his infidelities everywhere imaginable, not because he was too stupid to be deceitful but because he didn’t care whether she found them or not. He wasn’t dropping clues or his guard; he was lowering her self esteem with calculated ease. Nonetheless. It was her fault that the relationship ended. She couldn’t overlook things any more. In that way, it was her fault.
The customer faulted me for the bad product, which of course infuriated me. It was not up to me to check every box to see if a blender of microwave operated properly; that was on the manufacturer, not the cashier. And yet, here I was, staring down my scrawny manager, who drummed his fingers up and down the armrest of his chair like he was about to die at any moment.
“I might have to write you up for this,” he warned me.
I scrunched up my nose. “That’s f***ing stupid.”
So.
Something new.
Another lover and all the terrifying possibilities it brings.
Should I allow myself to want him? To think that he might want me?
Or should I just stay here, never kissing anyone, never moving my hips underneath the weight of another body, where I can never be faulted or rejected?
It seems easier this way.
No bloodshed.
No tears.
She didn’t think I could do this anyways. What did it matter to me now, knowing that she’s not even around anymore to be angry with me, to blame me for the stupid mistakes I keep making. One more beer, one more high, one more shady building on the wrong side of town. What’s it matter? Well, I guess as much as the fellows with the flashing lights think a cold body on cracked cement matters… They don’t matter either anyways.
CASTLES
In the beginning he took me to the savaged mountains of Scotland where once warriors had roamed, and battles had been fought and won. They were not mountains with peaks, rather hefty mounds of rounded earth, whose faces were wild and barren. Wind whipped. There was something about standing together on those mountains, faces titled upwards to the immense purple sky, that made us feel invincible. As if we too could be a part of history. When the rain came, as it inevitably did, we hunkered down inside ancient ruins and drank scotch, straight up, from his hip flask. It was inside one of those derelict castles that he told me the secret.
They always said it was Maria’s fault that they lost Abby. Maria didn’t watch, they said. Maria was distracted and hardly caught her as she fell. But I know the truth. It was me – it was my fault. I pushed Abby off the pier.
I’ve been heartbroken before. Again, and again, and again.
I feel broken, now. What do you do when you’ve been lost so many times that you can’t be found?
I think my faulted heart forgot how to love.