Hiding behind his mother’s thigh, Ariel peeked at the tall stranger. His mother was unusually chatty with the man, and normally that would bring him comfort. But the man’s wide grin was unsettling, and Ariel felt safer out of its reach.
If anything had served me well, it had been timidity. For how long had he survived, when others perished? He listened to their scuffling steps, their frightened breaths–their last, each time. And as dawn grew closer, he huddled in his father’s coat, its arms nearly falling apart, and counted the dwindling cans on the shelf. Bravery would come at the last can, he decided. Not sooner.
The timid boy stood in the middle of the party, surrounded by unfamiliar faces. His head turned, frantically searching for a familiar face. He could feel his muscles tightening as his breaths got shorter, more panicked.
charlie card
The groundhog was timid as he moved across the yard. Careful, making sure no one was there. As soon as he heard the first sound, he bound for the nearest bush.
Too timid to speak out. Too timid to tell him he’s an oaf, a boor, a sneering fault-finding lummox who’ll never create anything of any lasting worth because he’s too frightened to go out on a limb himself. But what would be the point?
Timmy was timid at the terrible twosomes troubling appearance
One had a soccer ball the other a spike in his hand. Timmy the timid became timid when they approached, .
I’ve got something on my mind but it doesn’t feel right to say it,
these blunt words
lack meaning now maybe because
i’ve used them so much,
that sucks.
“I feel an affinity with this person.” this is the first time
i have said something this dumb
and also known it to be this true.
hahahahaha doramachikku
She was timid about everything, but especially about hurting other people. That was because she was hypersensitive, and so she felt hurt by everything herself. So she went through life, hurting and yet not hurting in return. That is why she had built this shell around herself.
The dog that attack me the other day was anything but timid. We were accoustom to our nieghbour David dog coming around the yard on evenings, however while walking to the door, he suddenly lurked at me, causing me to fall backward.
She was a timid player of the game. Yet that was only as she had appeared to her peers. Inside her iron-coated shell, she was a woman of explosive, vivid imagination. And unfortunately, no one could ever appreciate this about her.
“I MADE THIS FOR YOU!” I want to scream it, I want to thrust the box of potted plants into your arms, I want you to see what I have done, but the plants are rotting, they are withering away and they have not moved and I am afraid.
I am a voice that will not be raised. I am something else from the shorter times, from the waiting, and from all that other stuff that I can’t talk about. But still, I am here for you. And even if I have to look both ways before I cross my heart, I think that I will still stay here, for you, at least.
And not for plants, and not for doubt, but for we.
That’s the reason why I never get what I want deep inside!!
nada
Sometimes you would see him in the streets, alone, back to a wall, hands shoved in pockets as he watched the world whirl by. To a stranger he would seem arrogant, perhaps even rude. Never once would he return a hello, and rarely did he meet any one’s eyes -but if he did, for even the briefest moment, the well meaning smile would disappear from the person’s face immediately as they rushed to flee the boy with the tortured gaze.
She shakes her head and her bangs shake with it. She’s twitchy, he thinks, body moving every few seconds it seems like, she’s- she’s like a bird actually. Big eyed and scared looking and constantly, constantly moving, looking around and never sitting still, yet never saying a word. Twitchy, he revises. She’s twitchy.
She woke up like every other day. Pink cheeks, timid.
Not looking forward to another day. Brown hair, frighten.
Searching her mind for some life. She doesn’t find it.
Timid? What is timid? Is it a fruit, vegetable, a form or food? Is it a name of an animal, a description of a living creature or a song?
Timid.. Is it a name of a human?
Tina
Everyone walked past her, never noticing the clenched fists and set jaw. To them, she would always be that timid girl in the corner who never spoke too much.
she was small and mousey. she was a mouse. he was even tinier, a dustmite, something that she could squash under her tiny little feet, and there would be nothing for it. he’d die, and he’d have no say. she’d kill, and she’d never be able to confess.
He was timid, cowering in the corner. It was only to be expected, really since this was his first day in my apartment. But I was sure he would get used to it, being well fed with a nice, warm place to sleep. He would miss his mother though; I wonder if he understood that my parents had already eaten her on their farm.
tonykeyesjapan
Wanting to scream. To pull a few hairs out. To punch something. Tipping furniture over on it’s back. That was the way it was inside.
Not quite on the exterior though. Appearing timid. So quiet and placid and serene.
His timid eyes always gave away his darkest secret. He smiled, acted confident, some would even say debonair, but for those who ever looked longingly into his eyes they would see beyond the shell of a man that had become so competent at deceiving the world. They would only see a frightened soul clinging to the unlikelihood that one day he would finally convince himself he was the man everyone believed him to be.
I’ve never heard your voice tremble nervously,
and I’ve never seen you shiver in the cold.
But I’ve felt your timid fingers on my skin,
and you don’t think I’m real, or so they told.
she was not timid.
standing in front of the courtroom, she spoke her mind with a voice that demanded attention, one that captivated him.
he watches from the jury, his eyes narrowing.
she wasn’t the one he was looking for.
a shame.
she knew he was timid. she could tell that by the way he spoke, how he would glance away awkwardly at the moment their eyes met, how he sighed sadly at times when he thought she wasn’t listening.
Gabi
how timid is this world. full of disaster and cruelty. I am intimidated and don’t know what to think. and this exercise is a disaster is freaking scary. how am i suppose to write under such time pressure.
Christine
I used to be timid. Hiding behind the brighter girls with brighter smiles, praying that no one would notice me, but at the same time sighing when they didn’t. Then I learned, I was never meant to be anybody’s second choice. So instead of begging for whatever scraps of affection people had left over, I taught myself to hold my head high. This is me, and if you’re not going to make the time or effort that’s okay. Just make sure to step out of the way, because you’re holding up the line.
That’s my problem with guys. I want to talk to them, I really do. I’ll see a guy from across the room and just watch him, watch him till I believe I’m deeply in love with him. But I can never get up the courage to talk to them, so I go through my life just watching.
Bon
Timid
With hope
Stretching forward
Tentatively
Feeling
Reaching
Afraid
Yet daring
To try
I am not timid. I do not cower; I do not wimper. I do not stand meekly in doorways, seeking entrance. I do not sulk in the background with an empty hand.
I am strong. I am in the front, the machete in my grip. I am through the hallway before the rest have even looked up.
Stop being so timid, people told her. You’re too shy. Embarrassing. Weak. Afraid. And all of that was true, she thought. She was all of those things, but she was also strong, courageous, daring, and beautiful. I mean, aren’t we all?
I stared out into the water. The sun, hiding timidly behind the clouds, let out a few wisps of sunlight. I turned back around and faced the other side, the breeze brushed the hair off my face.
Hiding behind his mother’s thigh, Ariel peeked at the tall stranger. His mother was unusually chatty with the man, and normally that would bring him comfort. But the man’s wide grin was unsettling, and Ariel felt safer out of its reach.
If anything had served me well, it had been timidity. For how long had he survived, when others perished? He listened to their scuffling steps, their frightened breaths–their last, each time. And as dawn grew closer, he huddled in his father’s coat, its arms nearly falling apart, and counted the dwindling cans on the shelf. Bravery would come at the last can, he decided. Not sooner.
The third pint began to win a round with how timid he felt.
“Go on,” said his friend, sitting across the table and nodding at her. “You’ve been talking about her for days. When will you introduce yourself?”
“Probably about the same time I can fly.”
“For feck’s sake,” his friend replied, standing up. “Come on then, by the time I’m done you’ll be two for two.”
The timid boy stood in the middle of the party, surrounded by unfamiliar faces. His head turned, frantically searching for a familiar face. He could feel his muscles tightening as his breaths got shorter, more panicked.
The groundhog was timid as he moved across the yard. Careful, making sure no one was there. As soon as he heard the first sound, he bound for the nearest bush.
Too timid to speak out. Too timid to tell him he’s an oaf, a boor, a sneering fault-finding lummox who’ll never create anything of any lasting worth because he’s too frightened to go out on a limb himself. But what would be the point?
Timmy was timid at the terrible twosomes troubling appearance
One had a soccer ball the other a spike in his hand. Timmy the timid became timid when they approached, .
why am i even bothering. i have no idea what this word means
I’ve got something on my mind but it doesn’t feel right to say it,
these blunt words
lack meaning now maybe because
i’ve used them so much,
that sucks.
“I feel an affinity with this person.” this is the first time
i have said something this dumb
and also known it to be this true.
hahahahaha doramachikku
She was timid about everything, but especially about hurting other people. That was because she was hypersensitive, and so she felt hurt by everything herself. So she went through life, hurting and yet not hurting in return. That is why she had built this shell around herself.
The dog that attack me the other day was anything but timid. We were accoustom to our nieghbour David dog coming around the yard on evenings, however while walking to the door, he suddenly lurked at me, causing me to fall backward.
She was a timid player of the game. Yet that was only as she had appeared to her peers. Inside her iron-coated shell, she was a woman of explosive, vivid imagination. And unfortunately, no one could ever appreciate this about her.
“I MADE THIS FOR YOU!” I want to scream it, I want to thrust the box of potted plants into your arms, I want you to see what I have done, but the plants are rotting, they are withering away and they have not moved and I am afraid.
I am a voice that will not be raised. I am something else from the shorter times, from the waiting, and from all that other stuff that I can’t talk about. But still, I am here for you. And even if I have to look both ways before I cross my heart, I think that I will still stay here, for you, at least.
And not for plants, and not for doubt, but for we.
and as the red fluid streams out of the wrists of the timid pale girl, all the people just stare, not doing anything to help her
She blushed. He blushed. They sat and said nothing for an hour and a half. But neither considered the time misspent.
That’s the reason why I never get what I want deep inside!!
Sometimes you would see him in the streets, alone, back to a wall, hands shoved in pockets as he watched the world whirl by. To a stranger he would seem arrogant, perhaps even rude. Never once would he return a hello, and rarely did he meet any one’s eyes -but if he did, for even the briefest moment, the well meaning smile would disappear from the person’s face immediately as they rushed to flee the boy with the tortured gaze.
I was really timid when I came into the pet store to buy my very first kitten! She was soft and cute and I loved her. Her name is meows.
She shakes her head and her bangs shake with it. She’s twitchy, he thinks, body moving every few seconds it seems like, she’s- she’s like a bird actually. Big eyed and scared looking and constantly, constantly moving, looking around and never sitting still, yet never saying a word. Twitchy, he revises. She’s twitchy.
She woke up like every other day. Pink cheeks, timid.
Not looking forward to another day. Brown hair, frighten.
Searching her mind for some life. She doesn’t find it.
Timid? What is timid? Is it a fruit, vegetable, a form or food? Is it a name of an animal, a description of a living creature or a song?
Timid.. Is it a name of a human?
Everyone walked past her, never noticing the clenched fists and set jaw. To them, she would always be that timid girl in the corner who never spoke too much.
she was small and mousey. she was a mouse. he was even tinier, a dustmite, something that she could squash under her tiny little feet, and there would be nothing for it. he’d die, and he’d have no say. she’d kill, and she’d never be able to confess.
He was timid, cowering in the corner. It was only to be expected, really since this was his first day in my apartment. But I was sure he would get used to it, being well fed with a nice, warm place to sleep. He would miss his mother though; I wonder if he understood that my parents had already eaten her on their farm.
Wanting to scream. To pull a few hairs out. To punch something. Tipping furniture over on it’s back. That was the way it was inside.
Not quite on the exterior though. Appearing timid. So quiet and placid and serene.
His timid eyes always gave away his darkest secret. He smiled, acted confident, some would even say debonair, but for those who ever looked longingly into his eyes they would see beyond the shell of a man that had become so competent at deceiving the world. They would only see a frightened soul clinging to the unlikelihood that one day he would finally convince himself he was the man everyone believed him to be.
I’ve never heard your voice tremble nervously,
and I’ve never seen you shiver in the cold.
But I’ve felt your timid fingers on my skin,
and you don’t think I’m real, or so they told.
the bus was timid as it drove into its sop. he looked allaround wonering were everyone was, concerned.
she was not timid.
standing in front of the courtroom, she spoke her mind with a voice that demanded attention, one that captivated him.
he watches from the jury, his eyes narrowing.
she wasn’t the one he was looking for.
a shame.
she knew he was timid. she could tell that by the way he spoke, how he would glance away awkwardly at the moment their eyes met, how he sighed sadly at times when he thought she wasn’t listening.
how timid is this world. full of disaster and cruelty. I am intimidated and don’t know what to think. and this exercise is a disaster is freaking scary. how am i suppose to write under such time pressure.
I used to be timid. Hiding behind the brighter girls with brighter smiles, praying that no one would notice me, but at the same time sighing when they didn’t. Then I learned, I was never meant to be anybody’s second choice. So instead of begging for whatever scraps of affection people had left over, I taught myself to hold my head high. This is me, and if you’re not going to make the time or effort that’s okay. Just make sure to step out of the way, because you’re holding up the line.
That’s my problem with guys. I want to talk to them, I really do. I’ll see a guy from across the room and just watch him, watch him till I believe I’m deeply in love with him. But I can never get up the courage to talk to them, so I go through my life just watching.
Timid
With hope
Stretching forward
Tentatively
Feeling
Reaching
Afraid
Yet daring
To try
I am not timid. I do not cower; I do not wimper. I do not stand meekly in doorways, seeking entrance. I do not sulk in the background with an empty hand.
I am strong. I am in the front, the machete in my grip. I am through the hallway before the rest have even looked up.
Stop being so timid, people told her. You’re too shy. Embarrassing. Weak. Afraid. And all of that was true, she thought. She was all of those things, but she was also strong, courageous, daring, and beautiful. I mean, aren’t we all?
I’m always so timid when I’m around you. I’m afraid to talk to or even look at you.
There is lightning sparkling across her skin, thunder crackling in her bones, a storm roaring through her veins.
She hides behind a meek smile and refuses to meet anyone’s eyes.
There was nothing she could do. Though she had asked for this, begged for it even; she felt suddenly very timid and shy.
“Are you sure?” she asked hesitantly.
“Oh; I’m sure I want you…” he replied with lust in his voice.
I stared out into the water. The sun, hiding timidly behind the clouds, let out a few wisps of sunlight. I turned back around and faced the other side, the breeze brushed the hair off my face.