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“I’m sorry, alright?”
“Sorry.” Jordan hissed. “You’re sorry? You TORE MY HEART OUT!”
“Stop being so dramatic. All I did was spoil the season finale of Sherlock.”
in the dream, we hug, deeply, underneath some storm cloud. or perhaps it is sunshine or the type of weather that augurs Armageddon. in any event, my skin softens, and the tears bath my smile.
Nothing would ever be grand enough to melt her. He knew that now. He’d already given her the greatest gift he could think of when he gave her the car and she’d not even said a simple “thank you.”
And just to turn the knife in his gut, when he did have the courage to tell her how her lack of a response made him feel, she told him that he shouldn’t have expected anything in return. She told him that his feelings weren’t valid and that he was wrong.
If that was how it was going to be with her, then what was the point of trying to maintain any sort of a relationship? No act of kindness yielded any appreciation in response. A homeless man who is given a cup of hot coffee says “thank you,” and even a dog wags his tail when his belly is rubbed.
How could she be so un-apologetic for her failure to exhibit even the slightest hint of emotion at such a romantic gesture? How could she be so defensive of her own actions that she completely failed to see and respond to the hurt that she had caused to well up in his eyes that day? How could she be so dismissive?
As he turned over in bed that night, he thought to himself that being real with the people we love is incredibly difficult. It’s entirely necessary to keep one from going insane, but the consequences of opening up can be devastating.
He fell asleep clutching his pillow, agonizing over her absence yet again. How he wished he could find that person he’d fallen in love with all those years ago, who would look into his soul and not be scared away.
Was she even real?
you apologize to people I think.
I have never heard this word.. does it mean to apologies? not sure but oh well, tomorrow will be a better word for me… maybe i will know it.
Sahn left him stammering and stuttering apologies, and walked into the night air with new hope on her shoulders. Had Sahn been honest, she may have found her parents much sooner than today, but today was better than never, and even though the stars were out, trekking all the way to Figuar suddenly seemed an excellent idea.
Each happy step drew her closer to knowing her past, and the night’s trip went by like a leaf in the wind.
With sweaty palms she knocked on the door once, twice. No answer.
Sahn left him stammering and stuttering apologies, and walked into the night air with new hope on her shoulders.
Had Sahn been honest, she may have found her parents much sooner than today, but today was better than never, and even though the stars were out, trekking all the way to Figuar seemed an excellent idea.
With each happy step she drew closer to knowing her past, and the night’s trip went by like a leaf in the wind.
Why be apologetic for anything that makes you happy?
He couldn’t help but feel apologetic, as he could only stare at the mess he made. Someone had tripped him, and in his rapid stumble, he spilled his food all over the most beautiful girl in school…and his crush. His face turned bright red in embarrassment as everyone burst out into laughter. His face only darkened and he ran off, throwing the lunchroom doors open, then the school doors, and finally just running home.
I wouldn’t have had to be so apologetic if the stupid dog hadn’t have ripped off her skirt and run away with it. This is truly the last time I will do favours for ANYONE! I know VeeBee (short for Victoria Beckham) is a seriously posh little poodle, but in offering to dog sit for my best friend Liandra, I had no idea this pooch could sniff out haute couture fashion at the dog park and would indeed make off with it when found. Don’t doggies like dirty chewed up tennis balls or sticks or something a little less precious than a leopard print Versace mini? Unbelievable.
a jaw can you only, only a photo of akhmatova’s neckline the nape of her nose
say sorry, shithead, kiss your fat fingers and turn away, slugs and vomit on porcelain i loved her
can you just
there’s a pincer, a hard edge: a jawline that could cut
a voice as pure as a bell
there’s no small fruitbat in the tree, i’d like to say winter but we know that she’s trundled off
wheels of clay
You aren’t sorry, are you? You’re not sorry for the mess you’ve made. You’re not sorry for the people you’ve hurt, the things that you’ve said and done, and the lies you’ve told. You’re not sorry for what you’ve done to me, are you?
You are entirely unapologetic as you tear out the intestines of the person in front of you.
You’re not sure if you can call them a “person” anymore. “Body”, perhaps, or “food”.
You hesitate before you bite into the meat in front of you, but the hunger wins out over whatever made you wait. You dismiss it as weakness, and do your best to ignore it.
The sweet flesh almost seems to melt as it slides down your throat. You cram it into your mouth, revelling in the sensation. You are a ghoul; Ghouls consume human flesh.
You still can’t shake the feeling that there’s something wrong.
((because you may be a ghoul, but you are [were] human too, aren’t you?))
наступного дня я прокидаюсь з відчуттям: я — пустка. і сором то пісок у пустелі, якою віднині — і назавжди — є моє єство. за кілька днів тягуче почуття відступає, але це знання приходить тільки після спустошення.
He gave me an apologetic smile. I sighed.
“Whattt? Come on Anny! Just a few bucks?”
“Get a goddamn job you idiot.”
He looked away, “Yeah but…”
I rubbed my the tips of my brows, “Look, I know this whole superhero gig has got you booked, but you can’t be asking me for money all the time.”
He was apologetic about the situation, given her circumstances. She had always been a little worrisome, and he’d merely given her more reason to panic about his wellbeing.
I think it is important ti apoligise for things one has done, but I have found that ba lot of people do not do it – they think that if one is a friend or a person that has a good personal relationship, it is not necessary to say sorry. I do not believe that. I think that especially withy peopke who we are close tp, we need to apoligise for hurtiong others (regardless of wjether it was doen on purpose or not). With people we do not acre about, I feel that it matters less – apoliguising can be polkite and hekpful to the relationshop, but it is more for ebiong a “good person”. With people we care aboutm we shoudlk take care not to be hurtful and to amend the hurt caused.
She memorizes the line that makes his shoulders and wishes she could lean against it. Perhaps then, it would not be a betrayal when she presses her forehead in the space between his shoulder blades. “Ichi is at fault…Nagamasa-sama.”
“I’m sorry, Ichi is sorry…Nagamasa-sama-”
Nagamasa grips her hand and pins it against his chest. The armor is cold but underneath she feels flame- a burning warmth that spreads under her touch and makes her remember nothing.
“You simply cannot apologize for everything, Ichi.” Nagamasa quietly scowls. But he keeps her hand in his, and Oichi curls her fingers around it as best as she can.
Rupert’s glasses are thick, both in the rims and the lenses. He lifts them off his face and folds them before he puts them on his desk, slow and measured; Adam thinks he might go mad in the time it takes Rupert to refocus and address the situation at hand again.
“It’s not that I don’t like you, old boy,” he says, gratingly jovial. “But there have to be redundanices. Last in, first out – you know how it is…”
i didnt realize this was timed the first time. pressure is high. the word is the same this time as it was when i clicked here.
i was hoping to simply re-roll
they always let me re roll in dungeons in dragons. i wear thin shirts, the ones with low necklines and long sleeves, but i cross my arms around my chest hugging my breasts together. It’s intentional. I want them to look, and i pretend i don’t see them when they do.
I paint implications with my body. Abject manipulation.
I suppose i should feel some way about this apologetic perhaps?
I am not sorry. I am not sorry for what I became, for I what made you become. I’m not sorry for the mistakes I’ve made, or the mistakes I will make. I love myself too much, I love my life too much to regret the life I’ve built for myself. So don’t you dare try to make me apologise for being what I am, for becoming what I am.
I’m sorry. What does that mean? What does the words I’m sorry mean? I’m apologizing for how I feel? I’m apologizing for upsetting you even though it’s upsetting me to be in this position right now? Is this morally right? To be sorry? Was I ever sorry at all?
He never apologized, even when he knew what he did was completely despicable, but then again, it was not something a king would be allowed to do. The only beings that kings were allowed to apologize were the gods and their wives or husbands.
He’s trying to tell me he’s sorry, and I might have believed him if this were the first time. Why am I still here? What am I getting out of this other than heartache and a spare tire from all the ice cream? He shouldn’t be worth it. I haven’t felt worthy in a while. Fine, tonight I’m going to do.
remorse known again
space between this time and that
looking for the ways to make amends
spilling tiny pieces of me and them
arranging the emotions
of anger and grief
An act of contrition
revealed the partition
That had been arisen
To separate them like light through a prism
And it was the nature of this state to invoke the image of an old colloquialism
Which began as poem of divergent paths that wrapped around a seductive thought on individualism, like legs that straddle the smooth curves of the hourglass, with eyes on every grain of sand written, foretold, counted, and revisited. As it drop, drip, drops. This is the movement, like the hands of a clock, that can’t never be unwound no matter how intensely one yearns for time to reverse its direction.
it’s a bit strange the way
your eyes flicker when you issue
some sort of pardon
like you think of it as inflicting
a retroactive guilt.
i think of how the woman slaps the man on the television
and forget that he beats his wife.
to be apologetic is to be understanding and caring. If you aren’t either how could you possibly be apologetic? Forgiveness is the key to happiness, if you hold all of your grudges deep inside your heart you will be unhappy for your days. People need to be apologetic and forgive others as they want to be forgiven, themselves. This is the key to true happiness.
Mother tried to kill herself that night. She called from the hospital “Sweetheart, you got in! You’ve been accepted!” Those words wrapped a chain around my heart and sent it down, down. How do you tell a severely depressed woman who’s just found a reason to live that her daughter doesn’t yearn for the prestige and recognition of an exclusive and “honorable” lifestyle. The girl is sorry, but no matter how many times you try to die, Mother, she can’t provide your reason to live. That’s on you now.
Mother tried to kill herself that night. She called from the hospital “Sweetheart, you got in! You’ve been accepted!” Those words wrapped a chain around my heart and sent it down, down. How do you tell a severely depressed woman who’s just found a reason to live that her daughter doesn’t yearn for the prestige and recognition of an exclusive and “honorable” lifestyle. The girl is sorry, but no matter how many times you try to die, Mother, she can’t provide your reason to live.
It was her giggling that gave her away. It did not at all sound apologetic. Nor did it sound nervous. Nor was it flat, sardonic, or sarcastic. I wouldn’t say it was maniacal laughter either, but that of a person who knew exactly what it was they were getting themselves into, and did not care regardless. As if an outcome had already been decided upon, it was, in a word, unsettling.
I am very apologetic. I say I’m sorry at least ten times a day. Does that mean that I am nice? It’s always better to be sorry than to stick up for myself because if I stick up for myself I will get hurt. I don’t really know how to discern when to be sorry and when not to be.
He waited outside the house for three hours, until she finally came home. “I have nothing to say to you!” she barked, as she tried to push past him into the house. He had planned on being non-confrontational, apologetic even, but his mother in law was a difficult woman to deal with at the best of times. “I want to see my children!” he shouted, putting his hand on the door to prevent her from opening it. “You are not their father any more! Now get out of my way or I’ll call the police. – Go away! – The paperwork is all done! It’s over!” His hand fell from the door, and a sudden fear overwhelmed him. Before he could react any further, the door was shut, his mother in law was inside, and he was left out in the cold, alone.
Is it one’s duty to be apologetic? Or does one do so merely as a helpful thing to forge their own way forward? Maybe an apology isn’t what is needed by people. Maybe, just maybe, they need kindness and recognition.
the apology in her eyes shone like the stars
innocence, trust betrayed, melancholy woe
kicked puppy, tail tucked, hiding beneath the stair
“come here, Lucky, I love you”
coo a little softer
tail wagging, tongue lolling
why can’t people be like this?
I can’t think of any words to type as I looked at his name on the screen. I had done so many things I never thought I would’ve… I felt brave with him. I felt dangerous. Now I wish I had never done anything at all. I wish I had never laid beside him in the night. It was so unlike me… or was it? Probably wasn’t. Mostly just unlikely that I actually cared for him. Actually craved his snake bites against my lips. I want to ask him why he never contacted me. I shouldn’t though.
If it was one thing she wanted to learn in her life, it was to stop being so apologetic for everything, especially things she shouldn’t apologize for.
you waved your hands like a white flag, hoping the ceasefire would last long enough for one of us to get a few words out. we loved like battleships; we would throw as much as we had at each other, until one of us — or both of us — sank. but we weren’t made of iron, were we? and when the armaments finally stopped falling, we looked at the burns and cuts on our hands and wondered if it was even possible for one of us to win.
I feel, constantly, that I must be apologetic. I’m simply sorry for a lot of things that I’ve done.
I don’t think I’ve done terrible things, but I’m in a constant state of reflection. Or so it seems.
I’m acting egotistical now; I apologize.
See, the trouble is, I don’t think a lot of people feel the same way as me. That is, they are not as apologetic as I am. Don’t get me wrong: I think that’s okay. But, people tell me I shouldn’t be.
They tell me I shouldn’t be apologetic. But, that’s just not me.