depends on how you see it
if you are saying this as an “insider” what does that even mean? what is considered the inside and what is considered the outside?
i guess going against the norm? the outsider is someone who is viewed and perceived as an outsider by those who think that they are in
but what is “in”?
to be “in” is to be individualistic, no?
so an outsider, is actually what we as society think of as “in”
Jesus was an outsider. so whatever.
Jesus went to those that the world cast out as outsiders.
if i’m perceived as an outsider…who cares?
as long as the only One who has the final say lets this outsider in…
i’m good.
They won’t look at me. No matter what I say, what I do. Every time I think so hard. I pace my words. I check my actions. Still, they don’t even seem to consider my existence.
We were the outsiders, peering in, breath heavy on the frosted glass. Would we ever know what it was like to feel that warm, that wrapped in pleasure and safety? I didn’t think I’d ever felt that way. They laughed, smiled, touched each other’s arms while we shivered.
Theres beauty on being an outsider when one accepts that she is one.
She walks the street unaware that she is one.
She is an outsider even at her her own home.
Outsider here, outsider there.
You wanted to beam from the inside out, right? Well what’s going to happen is going happen. And so the ember roared to life and commanded attention. Was it love or obsession, I think the even the scientists have a hard time defining all the impulses that lead to decisions which invoke all manner of consequences down the line. In short it became a fucking proverbial fire sale as you traded out parts of yourself and your history here and there. But no matter how hard it shines on you, this light, you still feel like a leaf upon the wind. How strange you should find it a comfort: ultimate demise – our planned obsolescence, crumbling to dust again and again till the atoms we’re composed of reach the end of time. For it is in this way you evoke a final equilibrium with all that surrounds you. Into the unknown you go hoping for the best but expecting the worst. I maintain an outsider you will always be for each death is individual no matter how common this occurrence.
the dance. the air, rank with candle wax and chickory smoke. standing towering and angry, he clung to the tree above the bridal party and watched with glowering green eyes.
She was three when he came. Large and looming, he took over her life. Her mom, her precious mother, stopped smiling. He was all hard knocks and rough shouts. She didn’t like him very much. (He never left)
As I walked into a new town, I felt lonely, unwanted, an outsider. I began to look for shelter, then a job. As well as making new friends, as I moved here from rejection from my old town.
He walked into the lobby of the law firm, the first black associate. He knew that he would feel like an outsider, not only because he looked different but because he went to the State law school instead of an Ivy League school. His grades and his recommendations were outstanding though and he belonged there as much as anyone else. He just hoped that they knew that.
Once a girl walked in to town and came with a bag. She was an outsider. A loner. No one to guide her through life. She moved into a cottage and and became popular in the town. Then a new girl came into town and was confused and scared. So the old outsider helped her make friends friends and not be an outsider.
She lived on the streets, cold enclosing nearly every moment of her simple life. Summers were more comfortable with their warmer weathered nights, but the summer almost seemed to last half as long. Thankfully, though, she quite enjoyed the snow and steamed breaths, so it made up for it.
That book we all had to read: Pony Boy and Soda. Grade eight. Dr. Anderson’s classroom: she was terrifying and formidable and ugly. Or seemed so at the time. Like a desert lizard you wouldn’t want to cross. Turning on the tape deck for another installment of Dr. Jeckyll & Mr. Hyde.
you were looked down upon in the literal sense.
he said “popular” and he became.
she said “beautiful” and she became.
you were decidedly an outsider, and so you fitted.
they gave her a sentence, and she made a paragraph. mouthing lyrics to forgotten songs, drawing foreign objects, yet so familiar, an old friend. she was not mistaken.
Standing at the end of the crowd of friends made her feel more like an outsider. While they talked about boyfriends and movie stars, she thought about the recent articles she read in Science, about colliding black holes. Later in life, when she was awarded the Noble Prize in Physics, she learned that some these young women had married, and had lived happy lives with their children and grandchildren while others divorced and lived unhappy lives. Being an outsider had its joys and problems, but she never felt that she missed out on anything; she was always where she should have been.
sometimes outsiders are people who feel like they don’t belong to society. They feel excluded and that hurts their self confidence. It can be difficult to feel accepted by those around but we shouldn’t forget who we are and what makes us unique.
I was always an outsider. To my “friends,” my family, and my peers. I was always so abnormal to them, but to me I was perfectly normal. In fact, it took me a long time to catch on that I’m “weird.”
“Outsider” he spat the words on the ground.
It stung. I knew everyone thought that but to hear him believe it hurt most. I didn’t care if anyone understood me except him. His judgement intensified everything in the room.
his hands were cold. he cupped them too his face and blew the warm air between to warm his fingers. He was an outsider. It was obvious from his torn trousers to his scuffed boots. The hair matted.
How can I find a home? How can I find warmth in arms that are of another? I can’t, for I am an outsider, searching for the arms of Heaven to take me in and call me His. He is the only place I can go for shelter, but I must wait until He comes to judge the world. I am an outsider, searching for a way in. But I must be patient and wait for the Day of Redemption. I am an outsider.
I am an outsider. Lost. Lonely. Searching. Looking for a place to call home. Where can I go?
Where can I be welcome? Where can I find the warmth and comfort of a family. I can’t. I am an outsider.
I am an outsider. I once was welcome in the coolest town in the west, but after the incident, I am an outlaw, an outsider, a man searching for a place to call home.
You don’t know what a great time you’ve missed until you’ve been an outsider looking in. It’s a pretty underrated feeling; people are always telling you that you need to be with other people to live a full, rich, exciting, wonderful life. Well, that’s pure bullshit. Now, don’t get me wrong, you do need a few other people in this life to hang with; to talk about the things you like, see movies with, hug, kiss, make love with, enjoy a glass of wine with and just see to have a good laugh. But if you’re not in Hollywood, or in the 98%, or in the top of your class at school; if the so-called popular kids look at you with relief that they’re NOT you; if you walk one way and other people walk another; if you don’t kiss management’s ass at work (which you pretty much see evidence of when you go to the office party and they glaze over when you walk into the room (asking one another “Who’s that again?”) well, listen. Give yourself a party. You’re an outsider. And in this world of strange goings-on and crazies, maybe that’s exactly the best place to be. See you there.
“Ever since I was little,” said Aisha, “I’ve always felt like an outsider. When I was five years old, I noticed that, on the playground, I didn’t look like anyone else at the school. People stared at me. It was like I had two heads or something.”
“I looked at her. “But darling,” I murmured. “You do have two heads.”
“Ah,” said Aisha, poking at her stoic, extra face. “So I do. Not a very useful extra head, though.”
That’s me, the Steppenwolf, Misfit, but not at all dimwit. I stand out proud. Get lost mainstreamers, here comes Astrid Awesome. Sooner or later I win.
An outsider is someone that doesn’t really fit in. Outsiders like to be outside. Outsider is someone new. An outsider is someone who doesn’t play video games inside. An outsider is someone who doesn’t have friends.
Being an outsider sucks! Always being left out and never belonging just feels terrible. That’s what a boy was and it made him really sad. Then one day he found a group of friends and he wasn’t an outsider anymore. Then he was happy.
Being an outsider sucks! Always being left out and never belonging just feels terrible. That’s what a boy was and it made him really sad. Then one day he found a group of friends and he wasn’t an outsider anymore.
Her view of him was a total cliche. He was the “bad boy” with the cool car, the gelled-up hair. He probably even had a comb tucked in his back pocket. He was from the “wrong side of the tracks.” (No, he wasn’t–he was from a nice neighborhood. She just thought he was badass when he was rude to their math teacher.)
I sit in the background of the wings, tasting, but never really touching my dreams. Her skirt flows around her as she twirls and her tight blonde bun lets loose a few ringlets making her usually pinched face seem more delicate. She looks lovely and she looks happy, but more importantly she looks something I know she’d never been.
Spiders are outsiders, no one likes them even though they are cool. Tarantulas are the best because they poison you with their hairs but black widows are cool too.
He was an outsider. The townspeople thought about killing him. But the council did not want to kill him because he was a man who could work and keep the unknown out.
depends on how you see it
if you are saying this as an “insider” what does that even mean? what is considered the inside and what is considered the outside?
i guess going against the norm? the outsider is someone who is viewed and perceived as an outsider by those who think that they are in
but what is “in”?
to be “in” is to be individualistic, no?
so an outsider, is actually what we as society think of as “in”
Jesus was an outsider. so whatever.
Jesus went to those that the world cast out as outsiders.
if i’m perceived as an outsider…who cares?
as long as the only One who has the final say lets this outsider in…
i’m good.
They won’t look at me. No matter what I say, what I do. Every time I think so hard. I pace my words. I check my actions. Still, they don’t even seem to consider my existence.
We were the outsiders, peering in, breath heavy on the frosted glass. Would we ever know what it was like to feel that warm, that wrapped in pleasure and safety? I didn’t think I’d ever felt that way. They laughed, smiled, touched each other’s arms while we shivered.
Theres beauty on being an outsider when one accepts that she is one.
She walks the street unaware that she is one.
She is an outsider even at her her own home.
Outsider here, outsider there.
You wanted to beam from the inside out, right? Well what’s going to happen is going happen. And so the ember roared to life and commanded attention. Was it love or obsession, I think the even the scientists have a hard time defining all the impulses that lead to decisions which invoke all manner of consequences down the line. In short it became a fucking proverbial fire sale as you traded out parts of yourself and your history here and there. But no matter how hard it shines on you, this light, you still feel like a leaf upon the wind. How strange you should find it a comfort: ultimate demise – our planned obsolescence, crumbling to dust again and again till the atoms we’re composed of reach the end of time. For it is in this way you evoke a final equilibrium with all that surrounds you. Into the unknown you go hoping for the best but expecting the worst. I maintain an outsider you will always be for each death is individual no matter how common this occurrence.
again? but I had the same word yesterday. must be the wrong time zone. aaargh. I wanted to make this a morning ritual. ok then tomorrow I’ll start
the dance. the air, rank with candle wax and chickory smoke. standing towering and angry, he clung to the tree above the bridal party and watched with glowering green eyes.
She was three when he came. Large and looming, he took over her life. Her mom, her precious mother, stopped smiling. He was all hard knocks and rough shouts. She didn’t like him very much. (He never left)
As I walked into a new town, I felt lonely, unwanted, an outsider. I began to look for shelter, then a job. As well as making new friends, as I moved here from rejection from my old town.
He walked into the lobby of the law firm, the first black associate. He knew that he would feel like an outsider, not only because he looked different but because he went to the State law school instead of an Ivy League school. His grades and his recommendations were outstanding though and he belonged there as much as anyone else. He just hoped that they knew that.
Once a girl walked in to town and came with a bag. She was an outsider. A loner. No one to guide her through life. She moved into a cottage and and became popular in the town. Then a new girl came into town and was confused and scared. So the old outsider helped her make friends friends and not be an outsider.
She lived on the streets, cold enclosing nearly every moment of her simple life. Summers were more comfortable with their warmer weathered nights, but the summer almost seemed to last half as long. Thankfully, though, she quite enjoyed the snow and steamed breaths, so it made up for it.
That book we all had to read: Pony Boy and Soda. Grade eight. Dr. Anderson’s classroom: she was terrifying and formidable and ugly. Or seemed so at the time. Like a desert lizard you wouldn’t want to cross. Turning on the tape deck for another installment of Dr. Jeckyll & Mr. Hyde.
you were looked down upon in the literal sense.
he said “popular” and he became.
she said “beautiful” and she became.
you were decidedly an outsider, and so you fitted.
they gave her a sentence, and she made a paragraph. mouthing lyrics to forgotten songs, drawing foreign objects, yet so familiar, an old friend.
they gave her a sentence, and she made a paragraph. mouthing lyrics to forgotten songs, drawing foreign objects, yet so familiar, an old friend. she was not mistaken.
Standing at the end of the crowd of friends made her feel more like an outsider. While they talked about boyfriends and movie stars, she thought about the recent articles she read in Science, about colliding black holes. Later in life, when she was awarded the Noble Prize in Physics, she learned that some these young women had married, and had lived happy lives with their children and grandchildren while others divorced and lived unhappy lives. Being an outsider had its joys and problems, but she never felt that she missed out on anything; she was always where she should have been.
sometimes outsiders are people who feel like they don’t belong to society. They feel excluded and that hurts their self confidence. It can be difficult to feel accepted by those around but we shouldn’t forget who we are and what makes us unique.
I was always an outsider. To my “friends,” my family, and my peers. I was always so abnormal to them, but to me I was perfectly normal. In fact, it took me a long time to catch on that I’m “weird.”
“Outsider” he spat the words on the ground.
It stung. I knew everyone thought that but to hear him believe it hurt most. I didn’t care if anyone understood me except him. His judgement intensified everything in the room.
his hands were cold. he cupped them too his face and blew the warm air between to warm his fingers. He was an outsider. It was obvious from his torn trousers to his scuffed boots. The hair matted.
How can I find a home? How can I find warmth in arms that are of another? I can’t, for I am an outsider, searching for the arms of Heaven to take me in and call me His. He is the only place I can go for shelter, but I must wait until He comes to judge the world. I am an outsider, searching for a way in. But I must be patient and wait for the Day of Redemption. I am an outsider.
I am an outsider. Lost. Lonely. Searching. Looking for a place to call home. Where can I go?
Where can I be welcome? Where can I find the warmth and comfort of a family. I can’t. I am an outsider.
I am an outsider. I once was welcome in the coolest town in the west, but after the incident, I am an outlaw, an outsider, a man searching for a place to call home.
You don’t know what a great time you’ve missed until you’ve been an outsider looking in. It’s a pretty underrated feeling; people are always telling you that you need to be with other people to live a full, rich, exciting, wonderful life. Well, that’s pure bullshit. Now, don’t get me wrong, you do need a few other people in this life to hang with; to talk about the things you like, see movies with, hug, kiss, make love with, enjoy a glass of wine with and just see to have a good laugh. But if you’re not in Hollywood, or in the 98%, or in the top of your class at school; if the so-called popular kids look at you with relief that they’re NOT you; if you walk one way and other people walk another; if you don’t kiss management’s ass at work (which you pretty much see evidence of when you go to the office party and they glaze over when you walk into the room (asking one another “Who’s that again?”) well, listen. Give yourself a party. You’re an outsider. And in this world of strange goings-on and crazies, maybe that’s exactly the best place to be. See you there.
“Ever since I was little,” said Aisha, “I’ve always felt like an outsider. When I was five years old, I noticed that, on the playground, I didn’t look like anyone else at the school. People stared at me. It was like I had two heads or something.”
“I looked at her. “But darling,” I murmured. “You do have two heads.”
“Ah,” said Aisha, poking at her stoic, extra face. “So I do. Not a very useful extra head, though.”
I don’t know what is this mean but I think out means outside, a outsider maybe means a guy who stays outside.
That’s me, the Steppenwolf, Misfit, but not at all dimwit. I stand out proud. Get lost mainstreamers, here comes Astrid Awesome. Sooner or later I win.
bnbnhn
An outsider is someone that doesn’t really fit in. Outsiders like to be outside. Outsider is someone new. An outsider is someone who doesn’t play video games inside. An outsider is someone who doesn’t have friends.
Never getting into the crowd.
Always being shy and never talking to people.
never wanting people to notice me.
I am a Outsider.
Being an outsider sucks! Always being left out and never belonging just feels terrible. That’s what a boy was and it made him really sad. Then one day he found a group of friends and he wasn’t an outsider anymore. Then he was happy.
Being an outsider sucks! Always being left out and never belonging just feels terrible. That’s what a boy was and it made him really sad. Then one day he found a group of friends and he wasn’t an outsider anymore.
Her view of him was a total cliche. He was the “bad boy” with the cool car, the gelled-up hair. He probably even had a comb tucked in his back pocket. He was from the “wrong side of the tracks.” (No, he wasn’t–he was from a nice neighborhood. She just thought he was badass when he was rude to their math teacher.)
I sit in the background of the wings, tasting, but never really touching my dreams. Her skirt flows around her as she twirls and her tight blonde bun lets loose a few ringlets making her usually pinched face seem more delicate. She looks lovely and she looks happy, but more importantly she looks something I know she’d never been.
Free.
some people say we are the outsiders, but actually they are. They don’t know our secrets, inside jokes, and peoples. So they are the outsiders…
i was an outsider
listening to my own thoughts
it was cold
and lonely
and dark
i love it
Spiders are outsiders, no one likes them even though they are cool. Tarantulas are the best because they poison you with their hairs but black widows are cool too.
He was an outsider. The townspeople thought about killing him. But the council did not want to kill him because he was a man who could work and keep the unknown out.
there was a book called outsiders. it was about people that were different in every way. they got in a fight and people die