Whenever i accusing someone did something, I always feel regret after wards. I think the best thing to not have this guilty feeling is be more observant and think through with logic before the action
I’m so sick and tired of these accusations. She is me and I am her. How could I have done something so harsh? She was my rock, she was my everything. How dare you say this is her blood splattered on my shirt.
Accusations are being flown everywhere. Where did you touch her? What did she say? I sit here silently being talked about in third person. It was unnerving. That her is me. That pain is mine. And yet, I’m just a doll being poked at like a cooked roast.
crawling
skin blackened with the things
mottled like damp
perhaps they were damp, damp with the saliva and spit and vehemence of those spiteful faces
words branded and burned on her arms, growing like fungus on her belly and legs and face and hands
My mum always blames me and my sister for stealing food, but my brother is always smirking in the back. I know it is him and one day my Mum will find out too.
Alana leaves the planet below heartsick, but knowing she did the right thing. Sure his accusations hurt, but was he really wrong? She knows what Cerberus is, what they’ve done, but this is for the greater good, she knows the risks, she knows that she’s doing.
Paul leaned against the brick wall and chewed on a long straw. He watched the boys across the street huddled together. He’d heard all the accusations before. Now he was hearing them again. It didn’t matter how many times he and his mother moved, the rumors and innuendos followed him. It wasn’t true. He knew it. His mother knew it. Who was following them and setting the accusations loose wherever they attempted to make a home. It was time Paul found out.
He bit down his anger and broke skin on his wife’s hand. She gave him a strained smile, her eyes begging him to calm down as the big screen painted a caricature of him at his weakest. A bead os sweat trickled down his temple as he tried remain stoic. But the cameras were unforgiving and bold. Every two seconds there was a click and flash as they waited for him to give life to his legendary outbursts.
She didn’t care much about how people saw her– she didn’t care at all if they talked about her. But this? The way he looked at her hurt. His accusations took a deep blow, and she’s not sure if she’ll ever forget it.
I was filled with accusations for what he had done to me, for what he had said. I don’t think I could ever forgive him. Forgive them. Yet as I waited to say them, as the sounds echoed in my head, they felt hollow. And heavier on my tongue as I said them.I knew that my accusations were justified. But how much? Should I even
the words ring out cruelly in the dimly lit hallway, venomous spitting accusations tossed at him. like they would make him stay.
his ticket is already bought, though. all of the poisonous accusations sliding up his spine and into his head aren’t supposed to mean anything to him anymore.
Accusations are not things that come up for no reason. Sometimes there are good reasons for it, other times no. They are usually based on fear…or anger…but anger stems from fear, does it not? I was once accused of stealing something I did not. it hurt my feelings terribly..that it’s what my friend thought of me. that i could do something like that. and what hurt more…
I hate accusations, especially when I needed to accuse my roommate of doing something, it’s so awkard but it needed to be done. She’s french so the language barrier prohibited us from having an actual conversation.
Accuse me of not putting on a good show
accuse me of being bad
its your problem not mine
All i was doing was being ME every damn time and doing just the right thing.
The accusation stung. The people who were closest to her were the people who came up with most vivid and vile accusations. She looked out at the crowd, and all she could see was fear. People who knew she was innocent were accusing her of these crimes against the state; she had to forgive them because she knew that they were protecting themselves.
Accusations…I don’t know isn’t that when people are accused of things lol. I think accusations are overrated tbh and shouldn’t be made unless there is hard evidence.
are accusations the same as judgements, just more direct? i feel like i judge people too much. i’d like to think im a pretty open minded person, but i think i make a lot of accusations about people / judgements. really, what is the difference between judgements and accusations?
Oh, they’re flying all over the place tonight. “You’re the bastard who left the first time. You’re the bastard who doesn’t even pay for your kid’s clothes. You’re the bastard I hope drops dead sooner rather than later. He doesn’t answer. He’s heard this all before. Most of it’s true, but that doesn’t matter much. You can’t defend yourself when everything bad they say about you is true, can you? He takes his cue from the dog. When the dog does something bad, he looks up at you and then turns his head to the side. Won’t look at you. Just lets you keep yelling and yelling until you wear yourself out and finally shut the fuck up. But there was this one time, he remembers, when he was a kid. They had a dog that did bad things all the time. Chewed things up, ran away, a real pain in the ass. One day, that dog took a piece out of the old lady’s brand new couch and she let go at that dog with a rage that you swore would blow the windows out. And that dog. Well, that dog got up and got his teeth right into his mother’s face and let’s just say that was the last time anybody gave that dog trouble.
Their accusations were stabbing me in the back. Me? A murderer? How could my closest friends suspect me of it? Sure I don’t have an alibi, but they know me. I’ve hung out with them for years. Did that time mean nothing? Do they know me at all?
People constantly accuse others of things. You shouldn’t really accuse someone of something unless you have enough evidence that they in fact did whatever it is you’re accusing them of. You don’t wanna assume and make an ass out of you and me!
There is nothing that she was less comfortable about than unresolved conflicts. Ideas about who did what, and why they did it were often left to fester for too long, and they grew in size and shape according to the twisted beliefs and jealousies of the holder.
The people around me made countless accusations against me- telling me what i’d supposedly done. I hadn’t done a single thing that they said that i had. I wasn’t guilty of any of these things. Why were they blaming me? Was i the scapegoat? Why? I don’t understand. I don’t know.
During the debates all you hear are accusations of what one person did and how they are lying to the American public. It makes me wonder when we became such a litigious society that we feel that the best way to deal with others is to make accusations.
I hate it when people accuse others of outrageous things when they don’t have the adequate knowledge needed to make such accusations. I just want to say to them, ” Who are you to judge them?”
I didn’t mind the accusations of adultery at first, but they really started to get on my nerves after seeing my husband’s anxiety spike. He never outright questioned me on my faithfulness, but whenever I went out, even if it were on the most mundane errand, he demanded endless details. Where was I going? What was I doing? Who would I be with? It didn’t matter if I was having with the damn pope, I thought to myself, but I sure as Hell wasn’t f***ing him!
I stood there angrily poking at my annoying pimple in the mirror of my tiny bathroom. I just couldn’t believe everyone and their stupid accusations. I should have expected to never be understood. At that very moment I couldn’t even remember why I’d thought this was a chance worth taking in the first place. It turned out to be nothing but a waste of time in the end.
Maybe I should just work on myself more. As much as I hate to admit it, at the amount of issues I’ve had with communicating and getting my message across to those around me, I’m starting to think that I really do have a problem. And it might finally be time for me to start working on it.
Ben sat in the room, trying hard not to cry as the accusations flew. He sucked in air, slowly, to keep from screaming. The room was painted a sickly pale blue and the cops weren’t hostile, not yet, but there was a definite menace in their demeanor.
And he promised it will never happen again. He just wasn’t thinking. He wasn’t himself. He’d been drinking, and they were in a fight. She was all legs, and skimpy black dress. The kind that you would have worn ten years ago. Before the vows of forever. The next business trip, however, he came back with perfume on his collar. She didn’t have to accuse him, he just packed his things
Under the light of a single, crooked streetlamp, Eleanor Grey pulled her scarf up to cover her nose from the frosty midnight air. Her suitcase lay on the cold concrete ground at her side, and the bus sign illuminated a radioactive safety yellow even with only the dingy light to reflect from. This was all *his* fault.
Jealousy. I really hate the feeling of not being able to trust those that I am closest with. I feel like I’m accusing them of things that I have no proof over, but why does my intuitions feel these things so deeply?
Whenever i accusing someone did something, I always feel regret after wards. I think the best thing to not have this guilty feeling is be more observant and think through with logic before the action
looool. accusations. lol.
I’m so sick and tired of these accusations. She is me and I am her. How could I have done something so harsh? She was my rock, she was my everything. How dare you say this is her blood splattered on my shirt.
Accusations are being flown everywhere. Where did you touch her? What did she say? I sit here silently being talked about in third person. It was unnerving. That her is me. That pain is mine. And yet, I’m just a doll being poked at like a cooked roast.
crawling
skin blackened with the things
mottled like damp
perhaps they were damp, damp with the saliva and spit and vehemence of those spiteful faces
words branded and burned on her arms, growing like fungus on her belly and legs and face and hands
My mum always blames me and my sister for stealing food, but my brother is always smirking in the back. I know it is him and one day my Mum will find out too.
Alana leaves the planet below heartsick, but knowing she did the right thing. Sure his accusations hurt, but was he really wrong? She knows what Cerberus is, what they’ve done, but this is for the greater good, she knows the risks, she knows that she’s doing.
Right?
Paul leaned against the brick wall and chewed on a long straw. He watched the boys across the street huddled together. He’d heard all the accusations before. Now he was hearing them again. It didn’t matter how many times he and his mother moved, the rumors and innuendos followed him. It wasn’t true. He knew it. His mother knew it. Who was following them and setting the accusations loose wherever they attempted to make a home. It was time Paul found out.
Like, I’m no longer want to receive accusations from the concil or my family.
I crave what I can’t have. leads to……… . Bridges burned. i get over it, it happens again. Will the cycle end
He bit down his anger and broke skin on his wife’s hand. She gave him a strained smile, her eyes begging him to calm down as the big screen painted a caricature of him at his weakest. A bead os sweat trickled down his temple as he tried remain stoic. But the cameras were unforgiving and bold. Every two seconds there was a click and flash as they waited for him to give life to his legendary outbursts.
She didn’t care much about how people saw her– she didn’t care at all if they talked about her. But this? The way he looked at her hurt. His accusations took a deep blow, and she’s not sure if she’ll ever forget it.
I was filled with accusations for what he had done to me, for what he had said. I don’t think I could ever forgive him. Forgive them. Yet as I waited to say them, as the sounds echoed in my head, they felt hollow. And heavier on my tongue as I said them.I knew that my accusations were justified. But how much? Should I even
the words ring out cruelly in the dimly lit hallway, venomous spitting accusations tossed at him. like they would make him stay.
his ticket is already bought, though. all of the poisonous accusations sliding up his spine and into his head aren’t supposed to mean anything to him anymore.
Accusations are not things that come up for no reason. Sometimes there are good reasons for it, other times no. They are usually based on fear…or anger…but anger stems from fear, does it not? I was once accused of stealing something I did not. it hurt my feelings terribly..that it’s what my friend thought of me. that i could do something like that. and what hurt more…
Im not the kind of person to accuse people, i always take responsabilities. Especially if it’s something I chose to do by my self.
I hate accusations, especially when I needed to accuse my roommate of doing something, it’s so awkard but it needed to be done. She’s french so the language barrier prohibited us from having an actual conversation.
Accuse me of not putting on a good show
accuse me of being bad
its your problem not mine
All i was doing was being ME every damn time and doing just the right thing.
Don’t make false accusations!
I’m really fed up with it!
Mind your own business and shut up!
It’s enough now!
Stop it!
The accusation stung. The people who were closest to her were the people who came up with most vivid and vile accusations. She looked out at the crowd, and all she could see was fear. People who knew she was innocent were accusing her of these crimes against the state; she had to forgive them because she knew that they were protecting themselves.
Accusations…I don’t know isn’t that when people are accused of things lol. I think accusations are overrated tbh and shouldn’t be made unless there is hard evidence.
are accusations the same as judgements, just more direct? i feel like i judge people too much. i’d like to think im a pretty open minded person, but i think i make a lot of accusations about people / judgements. really, what is the difference between judgements and accusations?
He felt it like fingers down his throat.
“I saw you.”
Had she? Wouldn’t he have noticed? But her eyes were glistening – she’d seen. It was too late.
Oh, they’re flying all over the place tonight. “You’re the bastard who left the first time. You’re the bastard who doesn’t even pay for your kid’s clothes. You’re the bastard I hope drops dead sooner rather than later. He doesn’t answer. He’s heard this all before. Most of it’s true, but that doesn’t matter much. You can’t defend yourself when everything bad they say about you is true, can you? He takes his cue from the dog. When the dog does something bad, he looks up at you and then turns his head to the side. Won’t look at you. Just lets you keep yelling and yelling until you wear yourself out and finally shut the fuck up. But there was this one time, he remembers, when he was a kid. They had a dog that did bad things all the time. Chewed things up, ran away, a real pain in the ass. One day, that dog took a piece out of the old lady’s brand new couch and she let go at that dog with a rage that you swore would blow the windows out. And that dog. Well, that dog got up and got his teeth right into his mother’s face and let’s just say that was the last time anybody gave that dog trouble.
Their accusations were stabbing me in the back. Me? A murderer? How could my closest friends suspect me of it? Sure I don’t have an alibi, but they know me. I’ve hung out with them for years. Did that time mean nothing? Do they know me at all?
People constantly accuse others of things. You shouldn’t really accuse someone of something unless you have enough evidence that they in fact did whatever it is you’re accusing them of. You don’t wanna assume and make an ass out of you and me!
There is nothing that she was less comfortable about than unresolved conflicts. Ideas about who did what, and why they did it were often left to fester for too long, and they grew in size and shape according to the twisted beliefs and jealousies of the holder.
It’s misread and most people don’t understand it and make up their mind before hearing the other person’s side of the story.
The people around me made countless accusations against me- telling me what i’d supposedly done. I hadn’t done a single thing that they said that i had. I wasn’t guilty of any of these things. Why were they blaming me? Was i the scapegoat? Why? I don’t understand. I don’t know.
You
You did this
Only You are to Blame
For this pain
that wells
inside of me
building softly
like a wave
During the debates all you hear are accusations of what one person did and how they are lying to the American public. It makes me wonder when we became such a litigious society that we feel that the best way to deal with others is to make accusations.
I hate it when people accuse others of outrageous things when they don’t have the adequate knowledge needed to make such accusations. I just want to say to them, ” Who are you to judge them?”
I swear to sweet jesus the accusations have been fabricated out of hatred and bullshit. Who makes these lies up?
The accusation cut me, sharp as a blade. It stung, leaving a red stripe where it landed, in a place where scars don’t show.
I didn’t mind the accusations of adultery at first, but they really started to get on my nerves after seeing my husband’s anxiety spike. He never outright questioned me on my faithfulness, but whenever I went out, even if it were on the most mundane errand, he demanded endless details. Where was I going? What was I doing? Who would I be with? It didn’t matter if I was having with the damn pope, I thought to myself, but I sure as Hell wasn’t f***ing him!
I stood there angrily poking at my annoying pimple in the mirror of my tiny bathroom. I just couldn’t believe everyone and their stupid accusations. I should have expected to never be understood. At that very moment I couldn’t even remember why I’d thought this was a chance worth taking in the first place. It turned out to be nothing but a waste of time in the end.
Maybe I should just work on myself more. As much as I hate to admit it, at the amount of issues I’ve had with communicating and getting my message across to those around me, I’m starting to think that I really do have a problem. And it might finally be time for me to start working on it.
Ben sat in the room, trying hard not to cry as the accusations flew. He sucked in air, slowly, to keep from screaming. The room was painted a sickly pale blue and the cops weren’t hostile, not yet, but there was a definite menace in their demeanor.
And he promised it will never happen again. He just wasn’t thinking. He wasn’t himself. He’d been drinking, and they were in a fight. She was all legs, and skimpy black dress. The kind that you would have worn ten years ago. Before the vows of forever. The next business trip, however, he came back with perfume on his collar. She didn’t have to accuse him, he just packed his things
Under the light of a single, crooked streetlamp, Eleanor Grey pulled her scarf up to cover her nose from the frosty midnight air. Her suitcase lay on the cold concrete ground at her side, and the bus sign illuminated a radioactive safety yellow even with only the dingy light to reflect from. This was all *his* fault.
Jealousy. I really hate the feeling of not being able to trust those that I am closest with. I feel like I’m accusing them of things that I have no proof over, but why does my intuitions feel these things so deeply?