It wasn’t until they left their entire person away that I realized how ineffectual they were to our whole operation. What did they have to offer me, I mean us, that we couldn’t do without?
people all over the world ,people are selfish bastards,greedy people who don’t care about any creature on this earth. they just kill to benefit them selves.
There are lots of different people in this world, some that you can get a long with and other that’ll sit there and judge you without knowing a single fact about you. I find this hightly annoying and is causing a huge amount of self consciosness and people are uncomfortable with themselves.
People are invasive. I tend to be reclusive in my free-time, meaning I don’t make a conscious effort to keep up communication with any of my friends, even family at times – it’s what keeps me sane after the hours when I’m jumping off the walls in glee (figuratively, of course). What peeves me is when people endeavour to intrude on my quiet downtime. I understand the urgency of alerting me of dinner and other important reminders (“Don’t forget to do the dishes” “Where did you put that invoice?” “Have you done the dishes yet?”… wait, scrap that last one), but unnecessary small talk about what I’m wearing tomorrow makes me want to punch them in the face. I do not have anger management issues, I swear.
People are of different kinds. They are emotional. Lovely. And are of different moods. In different stages of their life. Some of them become close enough to being friends. And such people are like your relationships. Only they don’t expect anything in return from you. :)
Issa didn’t like people. Not one bit. He hated crowds, and disdained being out in public for more than strictly necessary. That was why it was so odd to find him out like this, mingling amongst the masses at the bazaar. He didn’t understand it himself.
We, the people. A remarkably simple phrase that couldn’t be a more sensationalistic and unifying slew of words. We are the people, one yet many; individual yet whole.
Some people say, that it’s cool to be strange. I don’t think so. In my oppinion, being strange is the most lonely think that could happen to you.
All hail Jim
a group of persons is known as people. people can be of different kinds. society, country is defined by its people. the country is run by the people,of the people and for the people.
These things can be so frustrating, they hold so much in them that is wonderful, are equipped to see so much beyond them that is wonderful and spend far too much time looking for things that are drab and sad. Get up off your knees people, hold out your hands, people, feel the cool in the rain and the beat of the sun, hold out your hands to each other and bask in who you all are. It is neither simple nor complicated, it’s not sugary, you will find enough work in appreciation to ditch the drab dramas and evolve. People are everything I adore, from the neat construction of their skeletons to the unknown journeys of their minds, everything I despair, from the illness that can rack their bodies to the cruelty they invent.
It’s unfair to think of people as one unit, because everyone is one hundred percent different. Living abroad in the Middle East and talking to Americans about “people” we meet on the street or in school or in our host families, I find myself having to avoid the word. They’re not “people,” they’re Arabs. or Americans. Or Muslims or Christians or mothers or fathers or bosses or anything else you can think of but not simply “people.” They deserve more than that.
people are crazy and rude. they can be loud and annoying as well. people like to have fun with all they do and they like to follow their own rules. People could be nice at times, friends are people as well as family. Demi and Jonas brothers are people I wish I knew.
the people I know, the people I trust the people I hate. people of all kinds, people with mental illnesses, people in high power, people we look up to, people from all around the world..we are all different people.
People can be nice sometimes, sometimes not. There are people out there who are truly beautiful. Really, really beautiful. It’s really mesmerizing. And some who are truly terrible — but those people can be mesmerizing as well.
As I sat there on the bench with my arms and legs crossed, my eyes wandered over to the sea of people that passed across me. Unconsciously, I tried to look at each of them in turn. The men, the women, the children, the teenagers.
Something inside me was pushing me to stand up, grab hold of them, and ask, “What’s your story?”
What’s behind those eyes of yours that reflect so much grief and pain? What’s behind that scar in your face, that burn in your arm, that tattoo on your neck?
But I sat there, still looking. Still wondering.
Oh the things we don’t know.
I’m sitting on BART and a woman next to me is falling asleep with her head resting against the window pane. There’s a child sitting on a lap a few rows in front and his hair is curly cotton candy. There’s an old man making faces at him from across the car, puffing out his cheeks, and the baby is laughing and kicking his feet.
several people stood on a street, watching other people. people passed by in groups and alone, in lines and in triangle-formations. people loved other people. people were happy. people had families. nobody was a sociopath. nobody was lonely.
People party with the pretty princess –
“Pretty, pretty,” by her own admission.
Half-pint goblets and smoky shot glasses
Find themselves filled from general decision.
Jackets pile high, leather, suede, cotton,
Over an off-white cream blanket on the princess’ bed,
Echoes of guests shortly afterwards sought in
Singles, or doubles, or triples, or quad.
Random music, dark matter of social events,
Paints foundational backgrounds for discourse it augments,
Issued by people who by chance would not know
Each other were not for the host’s communal quid pro quo.
Raised glasses pay hourly tribute to time
As night gathering softly blends reason and rhyme.
i hate people. all they do is hurt your feelings. and make you cry. and made you mad. so i just want to throw rocks at them. because i want to. i mean. like i cant even express how much people suck fucking ass. omg. i cant even, ;kasdjf;lkadsf jdsh i hate the majority of people. ok. geez. if they werent so mean maybe i would like them.. maybe..
People are the action figures of God’s play ground
Some of them go “Pew pew pew” at others and shoot them down
Some of the lucky ones fall in love with each other and have it all
Some of them get lost at the bottom of the sandbox and have lonely hearts
Some of them get thrown off of the jungle gym, the lucky ones have tissue parachutes
Some of them get thrown together with the troops and go to war
Some of them are “more important” than the others and rule the land
God kills off some of them and buries them in the lawn
Some of them in the lawn are dug up and reincarnated
Some of them God confides in and they spread the word
Some of them God hums to while he plays with them and they bring music to the land
Some of them take the beating on a bad day and they are the crazy ones
Some of them get left out in the rain and they are the sad ones
Some of them God loves too much so he takes them away from the rest and puts them on a shelf
Some of them God didn’t love enough and put them through hell and they are the suicidal ones
Some of them are fragile porcelain dolls and are easily broken
Some of them are hard metal
Some of them are rocks and islands
Some of them are matches and light up the world for a brief moment before they are gone
Some of them are made of rubber and no matter how hard He tries to bend them and break them, they won’t budge
Some of them get played with more than others,
These ones get shot
They get stabbed
They break down
God builds them back up with spare parts
They love
They lose
They die
They are revived
They get sent to war
They go through hell
They break down
God wonders why they break down
…He keeps playing and playing and playing
Until they give up
People are God’s action figures…
I see the font’s enlarges since I was here last. Guess other subscribers commented. I’m struck by home many wear glasses; are our eyes worse or diagnostics more persuasive.
People are complex creatures. People are beings. People have thoughts.
I’m a person.
I am complex. I have thoughts. I have talents.
People have hatred for each other.
I hate many people. They are irrational.
Am I even rational?
I don’t know.
Do people hate me?
Maybe.
Do I hate them?
Mostly.
People tell me I’m good at writing. I tell myself I’m good at writing. People told me to come to this site to get practiced casually. I’m here now. Practicing. Thank you, people.
“Well. I’m not a huge fan of people honestly. They’ve seemed like very interesting creatures. I use to feel so much above them, and I still kind of do. Everyone is pretending to know what they’re doing but no one really does. I feel like one of the very few people who are able to fully not pretend like they have no idea what they’re doing. Everyone has this secret. They pretend to know what they’re doing but they’re just as lost as the rest of us.”
are funny
i like poop
and jello
and i also like to go to disneyland on the morrow which is yesterday
ah the floor is lava and lilacs smell good
and throw up
i drink milk on
People.
People thinking.
People talking.
People dreaming.
People screaming.
People drinking.
People.
People.
People.
People looking around.
People looking down.
People looking at the sky.
People trying to hide.
People looking for their kids.
People finding their new loves.
People shopping.
People.
People.
People killing.
People lining their lines.
People throwing them dimes.
People.
People.
People with pills.
People getting grills.
People.
People who write bad poems.
People like me.
People like you.
People are very similar creatures actually.
So why don’t they treat each other like it?
i think that people are narcissistic and selfish but every once in a while you see a kind human being who just tries to be a good person. Someone helps the elderly, someone cradles a hurt dog. One smile can make the biggest difference–it really isn’t that hard to crack one open every day. sajd
People.
People thinking.
People talking.
People dreaming.
People screaming.
People drinking.
People.
People.
People.
People looking around.
People looking down.
People looking at the sky.
People trying to hide.
People looking for their kids.
People finding their new loves.
People shopping.
People.
People.
People killing.
People lining their lines.
People throwing them dimes.
People
The girl standing at five three looked around. She saw all the people, but she wasn’t sure if they were there or not. Reality had slipped away from her, or did she slip away from reality? This is all she knew though. The scary feeling of talking to someone and then they just vanish into thin air, poofing into a puff of grey smoke. This was her new found reality.
The people of this earth roam around, clueless. Their bright eyes glancing around silently. Drumming their fingers on their thighs, crying over little things. Roaming this earth, not knowing. WowI really can’t write today.
I really like people sometimes. They can just be so beautiful and kind, but other times they just suck and are terrible. The people you meet really can affect you. They build you up or just tear you down until you’re absolutely nothing. They can have just such an impact on your life future and past.
People. There were so many of them, everywhere, all around him. He couldn’t stretch without smacking a shem in the face. It set his nerves on edge. Gwydion had never felt so out of place in his life. He prayed to all the gods that his companions wouldn’t notice his nerves– however, the gods could not answer, nor did he suspect they could help if they could. Gwydion was not a tactician or gifted with a silver tongue. Ashalle had always laughed at him and said that all of his thoughts were plain on his face. It might have been a charming quirk then, but times had changed. He wouldn’t look weak, couldn’t look weak.
“Is there something wrong?”
Gwydion twitched with surprise. He really out of it if he’d been startled by Alistair. How pathetic could one get?
“No. Of course not.” He snapped. He turned around, meaning to make a dramatic getaway, but a maid had been following close behind them. He promptly ran into her and spilled her basket of laundry.
Alistair quirked an eyebrow, unconvinced. “Riiiight.”
The people started walking down the street, passing her by. Where they real? She didn’t know. She couldn’t tell anymore between reality and her imaginiation. She was sick. She was fucked up and she didn’t know what was what anymore. Everything seemed like a dream now, some sick twisted nightmare that she was getting dragged through, kicking and screaming until she woke up from this horrid nightmare.
are there for the taking. valuable, everysingleone. created by the most high, for his glory alone. we were made for love, not mysterious enigmas, it shouls be so simple, so easy.
It wasn’t until they left their entire person away that I realized how ineffectual they were to our whole operation. What did they have to offer me, I mean us, that we couldn’t do without?
people all over the world ,people are selfish bastards,greedy people who don’t care about any creature on this earth. they just kill to benefit them selves.
There are lots of different people in this world, some that you can get a long with and other that’ll sit there and judge you without knowing a single fact about you. I find this hightly annoying and is causing a huge amount of self consciosness and people are uncomfortable with themselves.
the world would be a better place without us but we are favoued by god as we are his prized creations.
People are invasive. I tend to be reclusive in my free-time, meaning I don’t make a conscious effort to keep up communication with any of my friends, even family at times – it’s what keeps me sane after the hours when I’m jumping off the walls in glee (figuratively, of course). What peeves me is when people endeavour to intrude on my quiet downtime. I understand the urgency of alerting me of dinner and other important reminders (“Don’t forget to do the dishes” “Where did you put that invoice?” “Have you done the dishes yet?”… wait, scrap that last one), but unnecessary small talk about what I’m wearing tomorrow makes me want to punch them in the face. I do not have anger management issues, I swear.
People are of different kinds. They are emotional. Lovely. And are of different moods. In different stages of their life. Some of them become close enough to being friends. And such people are like your relationships. Only they don’t expect anything in return from you. :)
Issa didn’t like people. Not one bit. He hated crowds, and disdained being out in public for more than strictly necessary. That was why it was so odd to find him out like this, mingling amongst the masses at the bazaar. He didn’t understand it himself.
We, the people. A remarkably simple phrase that couldn’t be a more sensationalistic and unifying slew of words. We are the people, one yet many; individual yet whole.
Some people say, that it’s cool to be strange. I don’t think so. In my oppinion, being strange is the most lonely think that could happen to you.
All hail Jim
a group of persons is known as people. people can be of different kinds. society, country is defined by its people. the country is run by the people,of the people and for the people.
These things can be so frustrating, they hold so much in them that is wonderful, are equipped to see so much beyond them that is wonderful and spend far too much time looking for things that are drab and sad. Get up off your knees people, hold out your hands, people, feel the cool in the rain and the beat of the sun, hold out your hands to each other and bask in who you all are. It is neither simple nor complicated, it’s not sugary, you will find enough work in appreciation to ditch the drab dramas and evolve. People are everything I adore, from the neat construction of their skeletons to the unknown journeys of their minds, everything I despair, from the illness that can rack their bodies to the cruelty they invent.
It’s unfair to think of people as one unit, because everyone is one hundred percent different. Living abroad in the Middle East and talking to Americans about “people” we meet on the street or in school or in our host families, I find myself having to avoid the word. They’re not “people,” they’re Arabs. or Americans. Or Muslims or Christians or mothers or fathers or bosses or anything else you can think of but not simply “people.” They deserve more than that.
people are crazy and rude. they can be loud and annoying as well. people like to have fun with all they do and they like to follow their own rules. People could be nice at times, friends are people as well as family. Demi and Jonas brothers are people I wish I knew.
the people I know, the people I trust the people I hate. people of all kinds, people with mental illnesses, people in high power, people we look up to, people from all around the world..we are all different people.
People can be nice sometimes, sometimes not. There are people out there who are truly beautiful. Really, really beautiful. It’s really mesmerizing. And some who are truly terrible — but those people can be mesmerizing as well.
As I sat there on the bench with my arms and legs crossed, my eyes wandered over to the sea of people that passed across me. Unconsciously, I tried to look at each of them in turn. The men, the women, the children, the teenagers.
Something inside me was pushing me to stand up, grab hold of them, and ask, “What’s your story?”
What’s behind those eyes of yours that reflect so much grief and pain? What’s behind that scar in your face, that burn in your arm, that tattoo on your neck?
But I sat there, still looking. Still wondering.
Oh the things we don’t know.
People
They have all kind of attitude
Being loved
Happiness is what they always wanted
People
I’m sitting on BART and a woman next to me is falling asleep with her head resting against the window pane. There’s a child sitting on a lap a few rows in front and his hair is curly cotton candy. There’s an old man making faces at him from across the car, puffing out his cheeks, and the baby is laughing and kicking his feet.
people were crowding around me and i didn’t know why.whats going on? what have i done?
several people stood on a street, watching other people. people passed by in groups and alone, in lines and in triangle-formations. people loved other people. people were happy. people had families. nobody was a sociopath. nobody was lonely.
People party with the pretty princess –
“Pretty, pretty,” by her own admission.
Half-pint goblets and smoky shot glasses
Find themselves filled from general decision.
Jackets pile high, leather, suede, cotton,
Over an off-white cream blanket on the princess’ bed,
Echoes of guests shortly afterwards sought in
Singles, or doubles, or triples, or quad.
Random music, dark matter of social events,
Paints foundational backgrounds for discourse it augments,
Issued by people who by chance would not know
Each other were not for the host’s communal quid pro quo.
Raised glasses pay hourly tribute to time
As night gathering softly blends reason and rhyme.
i hate people. all they do is hurt your feelings. and make you cry. and made you mad. so i just want to throw rocks at them. because i want to. i mean. like i cant even express how much people suck fucking ass. omg. i cant even, ;kasdjf;lkadsf jdsh i hate the majority of people. ok. geez. if they werent so mean maybe i would like them.. maybe..
People are the action figures of God’s play ground
Some of them go “Pew pew pew” at others and shoot them down
Some of the lucky ones fall in love with each other and have it all
Some of them get lost at the bottom of the sandbox and have lonely hearts
Some of them get thrown off of the jungle gym, the lucky ones have tissue parachutes
Some of them get thrown together with the troops and go to war
Some of them are “more important” than the others and rule the land
God kills off some of them and buries them in the lawn
Some of them in the lawn are dug up and reincarnated
Some of them God confides in and they spread the word
Some of them God hums to while he plays with them and they bring music to the land
Some of them take the beating on a bad day and they are the crazy ones
Some of them get left out in the rain and they are the sad ones
Some of them God loves too much so he takes them away from the rest and puts them on a shelf
Some of them God didn’t love enough and put them through hell and they are the suicidal ones
Some of them are fragile porcelain dolls and are easily broken
Some of them are hard metal
Some of them are rocks and islands
Some of them are matches and light up the world for a brief moment before they are gone
Some of them are made of rubber and no matter how hard He tries to bend them and break them, they won’t budge
Some of them get played with more than others,
These ones get shot
They get stabbed
They break down
God builds them back up with spare parts
They love
They lose
They die
They are revived
They get sent to war
They go through hell
They break down
God wonders why they break down
…He keeps playing and playing and playing
Until they give up
People are God’s action figures…
I see the font’s enlarges since I was here last. Guess other subscribers commented. I’m struck by home many wear glasses; are our eyes worse or diagnostics more persuasive.
People are complex creatures. People are beings. People have thoughts.
I’m a person.
I am complex. I have thoughts. I have talents.
People have hatred for each other.
I hate many people. They are irrational.
Am I even rational?
I don’t know.
Do people hate me?
Maybe.
Do I hate them?
Mostly.
People tell me I’m good at writing. I tell myself I’m good at writing. People told me to come to this site to get practiced casually. I’m here now. Practicing. Thank you, people.
“Well. I’m not a huge fan of people honestly. They’ve seemed like very interesting creatures. I use to feel so much above them, and I still kind of do. Everyone is pretending to know what they’re doing but no one really does. I feel like one of the very few people who are able to fully not pretend like they have no idea what they’re doing. Everyone has this secret. They pretend to know what they’re doing but they’re just as lost as the rest of us.”
are funny
i like poop
and jello
and i also like to go to disneyland on the morrow which is yesterday
ah the floor is lava and lilacs smell good
and throw up
i drink milk on
People.
People thinking.
People talking.
People dreaming.
People screaming.
People drinking.
People.
People.
People.
People looking around.
People looking down.
People looking at the sky.
People trying to hide.
People looking for their kids.
People finding their new loves.
People shopping.
People.
People.
People killing.
People lining their lines.
People throwing them dimes.
People.
People.
People with pills.
People getting grills.
People.
People who write bad poems.
People like me.
People like you.
People are very similar creatures actually.
So why don’t they treat each other like it?
i think that people are narcissistic and selfish but every once in a while you see a kind human being who just tries to be a good person. Someone helps the elderly, someone cradles a hurt dog. One smile can make the biggest difference–it really isn’t that hard to crack one open every day. sajd
People.
People thinking.
People talking.
People dreaming.
People screaming.
People drinking.
People.
People.
People.
People looking around.
People looking down.
People looking at the sky.
People trying to hide.
People looking for their kids.
People finding their new loves.
People shopping.
People.
People.
People killing.
People lining their lines.
People throwing them dimes.
People
I hate people. They’re complex, but simple. I hate people. I am a person. Do I hate myself? No. Do people hate me? Probably. People hate people.
The girl standing at five three looked around. She saw all the people, but she wasn’t sure if they were there or not. Reality had slipped away from her, or did she slip away from reality? This is all she knew though. The scary feeling of talking to someone and then they just vanish into thin air, poofing into a puff of grey smoke. This was her new found reality.
People.
People change,
People leave,
People stay,
People achieve.
People love,
People hurt,
People smile,
And give life worth.
The people of this earth roam around, clueless. Their bright eyes glancing around silently. Drumming their fingers on their thighs, crying over little things. Roaming this earth, not knowing. WowI really can’t write today.
I really like people sometimes. They can just be so beautiful and kind, but other times they just suck and are terrible. The people you meet really can affect you. They build you up or just tear you down until you’re absolutely nothing. They can have just such an impact on your life future and past.
People. There were so many of them, everywhere, all around him. He couldn’t stretch without smacking a shem in the face. It set his nerves on edge. Gwydion had never felt so out of place in his life. He prayed to all the gods that his companions wouldn’t notice his nerves– however, the gods could not answer, nor did he suspect they could help if they could. Gwydion was not a tactician or gifted with a silver tongue. Ashalle had always laughed at him and said that all of his thoughts were plain on his face. It might have been a charming quirk then, but times had changed. He wouldn’t look weak, couldn’t look weak.
“Is there something wrong?”
Gwydion twitched with surprise. He really out of it if he’d been startled by Alistair. How pathetic could one get?
“No. Of course not.” He snapped. He turned around, meaning to make a dramatic getaway, but a maid had been following close behind them. He promptly ran into her and spilled her basket of laundry.
Alistair quirked an eyebrow, unconvinced. “Riiiight.”
The people started walking down the street, passing her by. Where they real? She didn’t know. She couldn’t tell anymore between reality and her imaginiation. She was sick. She was fucked up and she didn’t know what was what anymore. Everything seemed like a dream now, some sick twisted nightmare that she was getting dragged through, kicking and screaming until she woke up from this horrid nightmare.
are there for the taking. valuable, everysingleone. created by the most high, for his glory alone. we were made for love, not mysterious enigmas, it shouls be so simple, so easy.
So many people, they hurt and kill, it’s sad it’s true. Though we have created a life worth fighting for.