FOURTEEN EMPERORS ON HORSEBACK WITH TIGER OUTRIDERS SWORLING AROUND THE EMPTY LAGOON WITH THE PURPLE HILL DOMINATING THE ARENA WITH FIRES – NOTHING NEW THEN!
walking down the road a saw a white truck coming straight at me, and for some reason, as it was approaching, i thought, what if i don’t move, what if i let this truck run me over. Well, it did run me over, and now i am on my way to hell.
The way i approached you. A hesitant breath buttflies caught in my stomach. A cold sweat breaks at the palms. Insecurities fly left and right, its a battle field. A sole courageous thought stands up. ‘Just Do it’
thenakedblurr
Es kommt alles auf die Betrachtungsweise an. Auf den Blickwinkel… alles sieht aus einer anderen Perspektive einbisschen anders aus…ändert man sie…kann sich alles ändern
Anuri
The approach to the wall was a long-winded thing, tortuous and tiring but when we finally go there – after a near accident – we could see why it had attracted people for all over the world over the centuries: It did not exist!
@spacedlaw
to approach is to confront them and tell them how you feel. approach is an action and it is fun and la la la la la la la la la la.
MK
I didn’t know how to approach my depression. I didn’t think there was a way to get help for it. Everything else failed. Nothing has worked. I’ve been approaching the end of the rope and I’m scared.
Bryan
As I approached the site I could see i was not alone. There were so many other people who wanted the same part as me. They would each have a different approach to this character.
Colombe
He approached warily, reaching out with one hand towards the thing while trying to gauge its response, unsure how to further proceed.
Sean
Huddled against a wall, sweat dripping down my face and stinging at my eyes. Across the aperture, another is making a series of fervent motions, finally coalesing into a countdown. Five, four, three, two — we burst around the corner, making our approach into hostile territory
The shadow approached me, as I waited beneath the moon beam bleached bench on the porch. “What do you want from me?” I cried. this is not the first night, but, rather, a series of escalating endeavors which has lead me to my current mysterious location under even more bizarre and mysterious circumstances.
Destiny Rose
approachable is a better word. you need to be approachable. people like approachable people, and people like to be liked. being liked is like some sort of check mark on your list of things to accomplish
I remember the first time Sammy walked. His little legs rocking back and forth as he approached the small section of floor that I was currently occupying. Dad never saw this. As far as he knows, Sam’s first steps happened one day later and two towns over. I kind of like it this way. It being my little secrete. Little moment in time, all for me. And all filled with him. Like it should be.
It all depended on the type of approach. You could go to him happily and be pleasant. Or you could be angry and scolding. The type of approach affected the response and after all this years, he didn’t want any more of those negative appraches.
After comprehending that life last’s but a life time,
I finally decided to approach the future with boldness.
Freedom and tears, heartache and joy await me,
And they all seem oh so welcoming now.
I am on the brink. I am so close to succeeding, but so close to veering off course. I am motivated, yet I am procrastinating. I waste my time submerging myself into pointless pleasures, losing focus. At this rate, I will never approach success. I’ve come across mediocrity, but am not content. I want more; I want kisses in the rain, pay raises, straight a’s, an acceptance letter to graduate school, a work of mine published in a scholarly journal. Yet I lay in bed with you, wasting my days away with kisses, tangled sheets, and plans to be with you. You are my plan; this is not what I intended.
you are a mile on from where i am, on a park bench, with a book. i squint and it looks like james joyce; i make no decision there (or anywhere) i cannot stop watching you. i can’t tell you why. (actually, i could, but this would chuck me back into the nasty reality in which i am too banal for you and maybe you’re just all in my head, just a figment of my repressed byronic side which is really not that repressed at all because, let’s face it, if it was i wouldn’t be making you my angel when you’re really just a broad on a bench) but fuck, you are lovely. from what i can tell. all i can see are your rounded, shaking shoulders (are you cold? sobbing? involuntarily oscillating? are you a machine?) but that’s all i need to see. oh, if i could move. if i could twitch. if i could shake my way up this terrace, to you, i could die happy. i say it in my head. (excuse me, miss what are you reading? i love your face i love you let’s wed or join unions or holy fuck run off to libya i wouldn’t mind the air strikes with my hands on your shoulders) but, i have my sandwich, you have ulysses, and i haven’t got the balls
sometimes, i have a lot of difficulty approaching people. i am continuously paranoid that i come off as obnoxious or irritating, or that perhaps they don’t value me as much as I value them. this predisposition sets me up for many occasions during which i awkwardly hang around, hoping that perhaps someone will initiate conversation with me instead of vice versa. i don’t mind being a conversation starter i suppose, but sometimes it’s nice to know that other people enjoy spending time with me as much as i do spending time with them..
It is in the way he approached life. You see he was always on the quiet side. “Reserved” and “reticent” were other words people used to describe his style.
But when I looked at him, I saw through the first two layers.
For I’ve always grasped the underpinnings in a phrase as ageless as this:
sometimes, i have a lot of difficulty approaching people. i am continuously paranoid that i come off as obnoxious or irritating, or that perhaps they don’t value me as much as I value them. this predisposition sets me up for many occasions during which i awkwardly hang around, hoping that perhaps someone will initiate conversation with me instead of vice versa. i don’t mind being a conversation starter i suppose, but sometimes it’s nice to know that other people enjoy spending time with me as much as i do spending with them..
How do I approach this? Head on? Hell no, that leads to pain, nothing but pain. Skirting around hasn’t worked though either. You can’t see what I’m trying to say. Or maybe you do and you just don’t care. I should just come out and say that I want to be with you, the hardcore approach.
Kala Kaos
For many, many years I could not comprehend exactly why my father created humans, I simply knew that he did. But, I think that now I am perhaps approaching understanding. I continue to see how these humans are capable of so much, for better or for worse. They are imperfect and they have the potential for so many mistakes, so much failure and so much anguish. Yet, they have potential to choose for good as well, to devote themselves to each other so completely. It is far more than a majority of angels can contemplate, let alone attempt. Though, I suppose there are a few exceptions.
i need approach my cat
my friends approach me
i love to approach my friend
my teacher had to approach me
i dont like when you approach me
people approach me
afterschool my mum approach me
my teacher approach me
people approach me today
i love to approach my cousin
i love to approach my sister
I love to approach my brother
i love to approach my aunty
my uncle approach
my cousin approach
my friend approach
my principal approach
my dog approach
my cat approach
my teacher approach
my girlfriend approach
my boyfriend approach
my vice principal approach
i love to approach my dad
Steph
I wish you would approach me. Instead of sitting there like a bump on a log (when did I turn into my mother). I can’t do this all alone, no matter what anyone else thinks. And your reserve, your face of ‘it’s okay’ in public and turning a 180 in private, makes it impossible for me to ever do it. Ever.
Sarah
I continue to be dumbfounded at the fact that every single time I approach the grounds of a normal life, I am ripped back into the twisted life of hunting. I, who have tried and tried, cannot seem to accomplish this feat, whilst Dean, who wants nothing of the sort, got one on his first try.
I think the reason I sometimes hesitate to approach people is because it leaves a short hope that they will approach me and make me feel like I am truly wanted. Sometimes no one approaches me, and I linger a while longer before heading over to the group, but occasionally it does happen, and i feel exquisite.
you approached me as a shark looking for a bite to eat. i was hoping you would devour me. i dangled my bait–with blood red as a flag…over here over here…i waited for your gasp
amy
He approached from her right; she heard his paws lightly graze the ground. Tension filled the air, and her breath caught, her lungs and throat constricting tightly. Was he going to say it…?
“We need to talk.” His gruff voice cut through the silence.
“Always so straight to the point,” she chastised. “You should be more gentle.”
His pelt brushed hers, and she winced. “You know I can be,” he whispered directly into her ear, “but you told me to never be nice. You’re the leader; how can I say ‘no’?”
Her retort tangled over itself as his challenging blue eyes shone into hers.
you approach a wall. a wall that refuses to let you pass and you can’t go around it. approaching a time that comes to pass, with anxiety and fear and completely terrified about what you’ll come face to face with in the morning, will it be life or death, hope or heartbreak?
I see you approaching me, and it makes me nervous. I don’t want to talk to you. I don’t want to see you. You come closer, and my eyes dart, searching for an escape. I look back, and your eyes are trained right on mine. I’d hoped you hadn’t seen me. Too late.
I JUST REALIZED HOW BAD I AM AT THIS. I’M APPROACHING HUMILIATION IN 10 SECONDS.
J
He always approached me in a subtle way.
But trust me, it wasn’t in my head. I saw the glint in his eyes. I heard our laughter. I felt the red flush on my cheeks. I thought it was real, I thought we had the chance…
But still, there’s been no word. Silence rings out in my tears.
On approach, the wings began to shake. Watching those long sheets of thin metal flap like tissue in against the current, I thought of when I was little and liked to pretend I was an airplane. I would run around parks, arms akimbo, twirling in the grass, forming winding outlines of amoeba along my imaginary flight path.
Adalyn stood outside of room 406 at the hospital room, pacing. She couldn’t go in there. Her mother was in there. Yes, her own mother was in there, and she had no hair. Once more, she was not breathing on her own. No, she couldn’t enter that room. Her father was there, too. He was crying too hard to even try to hide it from his children. Adalyn looked at the door. She turned the knob. She had to go in there. Her family was there.
Tick, tock, tick, tock. She turned her head and frowned. Really? Her ex HAD to come to the same bar as she? This was bullshit. This was ridiculous.
The people at her table gradually silenced as they saw the approaching drag queen.
The queen smirked, leaned forward and started husking.
“Hey, sugar.”
ZaniLani
Hesitant, not sure, but brave. so you go. you have major doubts. maybe walking up to a girl and asking her to dance. she has the power, but you made the approach. maybe like a tiger, approaching its dinner. slowly, slowly. slowly. then pounce. maybe not.
what an interesting approach to the whole situation.
drive by with your hand sticking out and that stupid grin.
pretend like there was nothing ever planted.
just keep smiling and asking me about my play.
do not address the tension, the static that inebriates me
just keep being you.
and ill be me.
i suppose thats the best approach.
Walking towards the crowd, she felt a tingle of regret in her spine, like a sorrow , for her lack of preparation on this momentous occasion
FOURTEEN EMPERORS ON HORSEBACK WITH TIGER OUTRIDERS SWORLING AROUND THE EMPTY LAGOON WITH THE PURPLE HILL DOMINATING THE ARENA WITH FIRES – NOTHING NEW THEN!
walking down the road a saw a white truck coming straight at me, and for some reason, as it was approaching, i thought, what if i don’t move, what if i let this truck run me over. Well, it did run me over, and now i am on my way to hell.
The way i approached you. A hesitant breath buttflies caught in my stomach. A cold sweat breaks at the palms. Insecurities fly left and right, its a battle field. A sole courageous thought stands up. ‘Just Do it’
Es kommt alles auf die Betrachtungsweise an. Auf den Blickwinkel… alles sieht aus einer anderen Perspektive einbisschen anders aus…ändert man sie…kann sich alles ändern
The approach to the wall was a long-winded thing, tortuous and tiring but when we finally go there – after a near accident – we could see why it had attracted people for all over the world over the centuries: It did not exist!
to approach is to confront them and tell them how you feel. approach is an action and it is fun and la la la la la la la la la la.
I didn’t know how to approach my depression. I didn’t think there was a way to get help for it. Everything else failed. Nothing has worked. I’ve been approaching the end of the rope and I’m scared.
As I approached the site I could see i was not alone. There were so many other people who wanted the same part as me. They would each have a different approach to this character.
He approached warily, reaching out with one hand towards the thing while trying to gauge its response, unsure how to further proceed.
Huddled against a wall, sweat dripping down my face and stinging at my eyes. Across the aperture, another is making a series of fervent motions, finally coalesing into a countdown. Five, four, three, two — we burst around the corner, making our approach into hostile territory
The shadow approached me, as I waited beneath the moon beam bleached bench on the porch. “What do you want from me?” I cried. this is not the first night, but, rather, a series of escalating endeavors which has lead me to my current mysterious location under even more bizarre and mysterious circumstances.
approachable is a better word. you need to be approachable. people like approachable people, and people like to be liked. being liked is like some sort of check mark on your list of things to accomplish
I remember the first time Sammy walked. His little legs rocking back and forth as he approached the small section of floor that I was currently occupying. Dad never saw this. As far as he knows, Sam’s first steps happened one day later and two towns over. I kind of like it this way. It being my little secrete. Little moment in time, all for me. And all filled with him. Like it should be.
It all depended on the type of approach. You could go to him happily and be pleasant. Or you could be angry and scolding. The type of approach affected the response and after all this years, he didn’t want any more of those negative appraches.
After comprehending that life last’s but a life time,
I finally decided to approach the future with boldness.
Freedom and tears, heartache and joy await me,
And they all seem oh so welcoming now.
I am on the brink. I am so close to succeeding, but so close to veering off course. I am motivated, yet I am procrastinating. I waste my time submerging myself into pointless pleasures, losing focus. At this rate, I will never approach success. I’ve come across mediocrity, but am not content. I want more; I want kisses in the rain, pay raises, straight a’s, an acceptance letter to graduate school, a work of mine published in a scholarly journal. Yet I lay in bed with you, wasting my days away with kisses, tangled sheets, and plans to be with you. You are my plan; this is not what I intended.
you are a mile on from where i am, on a park bench, with a book. i squint and it looks like james joyce; i make no decision there (or anywhere) i cannot stop watching you. i can’t tell you why. (actually, i could, but this would chuck me back into the nasty reality in which i am too banal for you and maybe you’re just all in my head, just a figment of my repressed byronic side which is really not that repressed at all because, let’s face it, if it was i wouldn’t be making you my angel when you’re really just a broad on a bench) but fuck, you are lovely. from what i can tell. all i can see are your rounded, shaking shoulders (are you cold? sobbing? involuntarily oscillating? are you a machine?) but that’s all i need to see. oh, if i could move. if i could twitch. if i could shake my way up this terrace, to you, i could die happy. i say it in my head. (excuse me, miss what are you reading? i love your face i love you let’s wed or join unions or holy fuck run off to libya i wouldn’t mind the air strikes with my hands on your shoulders) but, i have my sandwich, you have ulysses, and i haven’t got the balls
sometimes, i have a lot of difficulty approaching people. i am continuously paranoid that i come off as obnoxious or irritating, or that perhaps they don’t value me as much as I value them. this predisposition sets me up for many occasions during which i awkwardly hang around, hoping that perhaps someone will initiate conversation with me instead of vice versa. i don’t mind being a conversation starter i suppose, but sometimes it’s nice to know that other people enjoy spending time with me as much as i do spending time with them..
It is in the way he approached life. You see he was always on the quiet side. “Reserved” and “reticent” were other words people used to describe his style.
But when I looked at him, I saw through the first two layers.
For I’ve always grasped the underpinnings in a phrase as ageless as this:
“It’s always the quiet ones.”
Indeed, it is.
sometimes, i have a lot of difficulty approaching people. i am continuously paranoid that i come off as obnoxious or irritating, or that perhaps they don’t value me as much as I value them. this predisposition sets me up for many occasions during which i awkwardly hang around, hoping that perhaps someone will initiate conversation with me instead of vice versa. i don’t mind being a conversation starter i suppose, but sometimes it’s nice to know that other people enjoy spending time with me as much as i do spending with them..
How do I approach this? Head on? Hell no, that leads to pain, nothing but pain. Skirting around hasn’t worked though either. You can’t see what I’m trying to say. Or maybe you do and you just don’t care. I should just come out and say that I want to be with you, the hardcore approach.
For many, many years I could not comprehend exactly why my father created humans, I simply knew that he did. But, I think that now I am perhaps approaching understanding. I continue to see how these humans are capable of so much, for better or for worse. They are imperfect and they have the potential for so many mistakes, so much failure and so much anguish. Yet, they have potential to choose for good as well, to devote themselves to each other so completely. It is far more than a majority of angels can contemplate, let alone attempt. Though, I suppose there are a few exceptions.
i need approach my cat
my friends approach me
i love to approach my friend
my teacher had to approach me
i dont like when you approach me
people approach me
afterschool my mum approach me
my teacher approach me
people approach me today
i love to approach my cousin
i love to approach my sister
I love to approach my brother
i love to approach my aunty
my uncle approach
my cousin approach
my friend approach
my principal approach
my dog approach
my cat approach
my teacher approach
my girlfriend approach
my boyfriend approach
my vice principal approach
i love to approach my dad
I wish you would approach me. Instead of sitting there like a bump on a log (when did I turn into my mother). I can’t do this all alone, no matter what anyone else thinks. And your reserve, your face of ‘it’s okay’ in public and turning a 180 in private, makes it impossible for me to ever do it. Ever.
I continue to be dumbfounded at the fact that every single time I approach the grounds of a normal life, I am ripped back into the twisted life of hunting. I, who have tried and tried, cannot seem to accomplish this feat, whilst Dean, who wants nothing of the sort, got one on his first try.
I think the reason I sometimes hesitate to approach people is because it leaves a short hope that they will approach me and make me feel like I am truly wanted. Sometimes no one approaches me, and I linger a while longer before heading over to the group, but occasionally it does happen, and i feel exquisite.
you approached me as a shark looking for a bite to eat. i was hoping you would devour me. i dangled my bait–with blood red as a flag…over here over here…i waited for your gasp
He approached from her right; she heard his paws lightly graze the ground. Tension filled the air, and her breath caught, her lungs and throat constricting tightly. Was he going to say it…?
“We need to talk.” His gruff voice cut through the silence.
“Always so straight to the point,” she chastised. “You should be more gentle.”
His pelt brushed hers, and she winced. “You know I can be,” he whispered directly into her ear, “but you told me to never be nice. You’re the leader; how can I say ‘no’?”
Her retort tangled over itself as his challenging blue eyes shone into hers.
I can’t approach anyone to make anything better. Fear of approach you could call it. (As well as the fear of being approached). ScArY! :S eek.
you approach a wall. a wall that refuses to let you pass and you can’t go around it. approaching a time that comes to pass, with anxiety and fear and completely terrified about what you’ll come face to face with in the morning, will it be life or death, hope or heartbreak?
I see you approaching me, and it makes me nervous. I don’t want to talk to you. I don’t want to see you. You come closer, and my eyes dart, searching for an escape. I look back, and your eyes are trained right on mine. I’d hoped you hadn’t seen me. Too late.
I JUST REALIZED HOW BAD I AM AT THIS. I’M APPROACHING HUMILIATION IN 10 SECONDS.
He always approached me in a subtle way.
But trust me, it wasn’t in my head. I saw the glint in his eyes. I heard our laughter. I felt the red flush on my cheeks. I thought it was real, I thought we had the chance…
But still, there’s been no word. Silence rings out in my tears.
On approach, the wings began to shake. Watching those long sheets of thin metal flap like tissue in against the current, I thought of when I was little and liked to pretend I was an airplane. I would run around parks, arms akimbo, twirling in the grass, forming winding outlines of amoeba along my imaginary flight path.
Adalyn stood outside of room 406 at the hospital room, pacing. She couldn’t go in there. Her mother was in there. Yes, her own mother was in there, and she had no hair. Once more, she was not breathing on her own. No, she couldn’t enter that room. Her father was there, too. He was crying too hard to even try to hide it from his children. Adalyn looked at the door. She turned the knob. She had to go in there. Her family was there.
Always the heels.
Tick, tock, tick, tock. She turned her head and frowned. Really? Her ex HAD to come to the same bar as she? This was bullshit. This was ridiculous.
The people at her table gradually silenced as they saw the approaching drag queen.
The queen smirked, leaned forward and started husking.
“Hey, sugar.”
Hesitant, not sure, but brave. so you go. you have major doubts. maybe walking up to a girl and asking her to dance. she has the power, but you made the approach. maybe like a tiger, approaching its dinner. slowly, slowly. slowly. then pounce. maybe not.
what an interesting approach to the whole situation.
drive by with your hand sticking out and that stupid grin.
pretend like there was nothing ever planted.
just keep smiling and asking me about my play.
do not address the tension, the static that inebriates me
just keep being you.
and ill be me.
i suppose thats the best approach.
That approach on life doesn’t fulfill me, he said.
I’m not that approachable. I left him thinking.
Wild flowers and snow.