Scene. I think about the music scene. The post-emo, pre-hipster scene. My Chemical Romance. Paramore. Red Jumpsuit Apparatus. Lots of hairspray. Rainbow hair dye. Hello Kitty. Invader Zim. Pokemon. Studded belts and fingerless gloves. So much angst. So much angst. I was almost one of them.
scene one in the 3 acts of life show’s always the best!I got my act right and still the audience left. I closed all the doors, but the 3 acts attacked me and killed me and hence ppl had the life experience they were looking for.
Picture it. Truly it can be anything. Cold weather, hot desert. Magical, scary—put your mind to the test. Once you have that scene in your head, write it down. Form a story and be happy that your mind has the ability to think such amazing things. Be proud of your thoughts and don’t ever let anyone tell you they aren’t worth being shared.
The scene unfolded before her, breathtaking, unexpected, new. The fresh feeling of pain was still present, achingly sharp and deep, but now a part of it lessoned. Perhaps he was gone, but at least, if nothing else, she could give him this perfect resting place. At least, here, they could be together, just the two of them.
That scene just blew my mind away. So simple yet conveying such a strong message. Makes you wonder what a piece of art can do and what an influence it can have on the day to day life of an ordinary person like me
There is a time and place for someone to make a scene, you have to be careful when and where you do it. It has to be the perfect time, in the perfect place, with the perfect people. If you aren’t causing attention, then you aren’t doing it right. There is a time and place for everything.
The stage is set, the lights are hot. Behind the curtin you can hear the crowd russtling and whispering to each other. In the air there is a thick feeling of anticipation and excitement. The crowd goes quiet, the curtin goes up and you take a deep breathe as the spotlight hits.
The curtain of night set the scene. The sun had drifted beyond the horizon, and the geese were drifting on the lake in the twilight. The first of the stars shone in the sky, and the trees swayed softly in the wind. And in each other’s arms, we smiled, and breathed in the cool fall air.
this is my second scene
second chances to recreate old memories, scarred memories that taint brains and ways of thought forever.
the memories are stronger than the experiences
so what people make of them, their mindsets are above all. we make the experience, the experience doesn’t make us.
The scene plays out in my mind every night. A door opens in the wall and I peer through. Somewhere inside, or outside, depending on the door, somewhere there is the one thing I am looking for…..a resting place for my mind….deep inside my mind.
the movie scene
the scene of the crime was so gruesome it stayed in their minds for years and when they thought they could finally forget, it came back to haunt them
they will never be the same
the mind and the memories it thinks and possess are much stronger than the actual experiences themselves
She was going to make a scene, I could feel it. I could see it in the set of her shoulders and the glare on her face. Only, I think this partifcular security guard has already had his fill of ladies like her; his fingers twitched on the hand near his taser.
Lily was at the scene in a sprint and a hop, looking for the outline drawn in stark white on the asphalt. She was the first to be there, before the detectives, snapping shots for the department as the greenhorn Kentucky Rodriguez approached her.
acting out a play can be so much fun. you get lost in the character it’s so much better than real life. everything’s fake and for one second you’re in someone else’s life. escaping your own reality. I wish I could be in scenes forever so i can be some where that isn’t my life.
there was a place far from the world where a fierce battle scene was taking place, the land was filled with blood and death filled the air. it was a mess and the world was broken. no one could have predicted this, not even me. it was terrifying and i held my breathe trying not to cry as i watched the bodies fall to the ground. i knew these people at some point.. i don’t get it! this is terrible. what a scene.
It was quite the scene. Blood, guts, hair, and a heart. A single red heart, still beating listlessly on the stained concrete. She walked over, dark hair drenched in various liquids, and picked it up. It pulsed faintly in her hand. Destroyed, useless, she clenched her hand in sudden fury and crushed the last living organ on the boat. The waves sprayed against her face, leaving a salty and bitter taste in her mouth as she tossed it out to sea.
its a play. and I don’t know. I just like to think of life in increments, and there are different scenes in your life like a memory would be considered a scene. and then they’r’e all put together to form the acts of your life and finally the play
it was quite the scene here, the girls wearing their skimpy dresses and me in my sweater. i don’t slut shame, so i guess that it was fine, being feminist and all. i am the wallflower here, clutching my soda that isn’t diet because i simply don’t care enough, and watching those who once cared refuse to acknowledge me. i watch other people become special. i recede from personhood.
Scene. It’s a strange word. There was a time when we would say scene meaning part of a play, or some sort of environment. But now it’s something so different. It’s a social standing. And what’s right about that?
The scene plays over in my head again, like a broken record. When my father had left, I’d been standing there and watched him leave with no clue where he was going or why. Years after, I had always thought he was just sick of my mother and I. But now, I know that I was wrong.
When the movie comes alive. But has more and more every single second. It can be action packed… or dead on sight. It never matters, because it takes more than one to make a whole story. People can also cause a scene. The ladies on this Earth.. know quite a bit about it. Forget to take off your shoes.. and boy you’ll have the biggest SCENE IN YOUR LIFE! More than any action packed movie! The sad part..
The scene was a horrific one in my eyes. People were crying in the most desperate way humans can cry, there was blood, there was anger, confusion, sorrow, there was the end of life. But he saw the scene different. In his mind, when the scene played, it was art.
I haven’t any particular one I belong to because I am beholden to no group but the ones I choose. I go where I am needed and I go where I’m not. You hear strange things from scene to scene. All of it could fill books and books and books. But you have to know how to listen, know how to look, know when to watch and when to glance away. With each change, you get skilled enough to wear where you’re at like it’s your very own second nature.
He walked in to his normal hangout. The acrid smoke that hung in the air let him know that she was already there. “Oh great.” he thought. I’ve made her wait. I’ll hear about that for the rest of the evening.
She made a scene. It wasn’t a huge, all-out-in-the-light-of-day temper tantrum, but she was determined to make her exasperation clear to anyone within remote earshot.
the scene of the crime is where i lay. my spirit os soft and free now. life is a scene in its own just one scene in the whole play. but the play never ends.
set.
can’t get over the wall that he build so
she finds a tree and carves a catapult.
crack bam sling and over the thing
didnt need to bust through all she needed to do
was flee
so she flew
homegirl flew the coup
the scene. we are on the stage. the lights are on my face. everyone is watching me and i cant mess up. what would happen if i did. it would be bad and embarrassing true, but then at least i would get some attention. i am too shy right now and no one knows who i am. i want them to know that i am more than just the awkward girl. no one has given me a chance. i need to make something of myself, take a risk, be known. the only question is how. and action.
I just wish we didn’t have to leave such a scene. Which was all on my part. But if you wanted me… Why’d you have to go change your mind. We were almost perfect because I respected your game time. And when you were gone I had plenty of game time. It was the perfect scene.
I remember how badly I wanted to be a “scenester.” I wanted to be a part of the scene. I wanted my life to be like a scene from a movie or a book. All I wanted was a scene. A fucking interesting scene.
I like to think that life is a bit like a movie. Sometimes, I sit in my car and I look out the window and I have a slow song playing and I drive slower than I should (because you don’t get great gas mileage when you’re going twenty in a fifty-five). I pretend someone out there is watching, and I’m some sexy actress whom everyone wants.
I walked into the room in a party hat it was a strange room. No doors no windows, how did I get to this strange seen? How did I get in at all. Now that I think of it I can’t remember anything but this little box that I’m now living in. There has to be more to life than these gray walls and dark cei
But of course, no one would mention anything about it. No one ever did. They were all too afraid to speak to the authorities, the pathetic little creatures. As far as they were concerned, if someone was truly afraid (enough to go against their masters’ wishes), then they could go to the police in the cities themselves.
It was difficult to get to the cities, anyway. Very difficult.
Your life would be on the line if you went against your masters’ wishes.
It’s a type of style, an adjective, or a noun. It’s versitaile, and is a word that everybody knows. It’s not a strange word, but it’s not something that you hear every day or in normal conversations.
In books, in movies. I want to read Harry Potter, I love that series. I really don’t think I spelled that correctly, but whatever, I wonder if this has spellcheck, let’s find out: afdsjklasdfj yes it does. I want Isabelle’s journal to get here already.
Walking along the aisle. Looking around me were people shedding their tears of happiness. And they look so happy for me. And as I reached the end of the aisle there is a boy waiting for me and reaching my hand. So that was the scene I was dreaming.
Scene. I think about the music scene. The post-emo, pre-hipster scene. My Chemical Romance. Paramore. Red Jumpsuit Apparatus. Lots of hairspray. Rainbow hair dye. Hello Kitty. Invader Zim. Pokemon. Studded belts and fingerless gloves. So much angst. So much angst. I was almost one of them.
There’s a movie playing today.
It was only two years ago that he pulled into my drive way, mannered [artificial] and strategic in every stride he took onto my faded wooden porch.
With baleful [deadly] eyes and a
scene one in the 3 acts of life show’s always the best!I got my act right and still the audience left. I closed all the doors, but the 3 acts attacked me and killed me and hence ppl had the life experience they were looking for.
Picture it. Truly it can be anything. Cold weather, hot desert. Magical, scary—put your mind to the test. Once you have that scene in your head, write it down. Form a story and be happy that your mind has the ability to think such amazing things. Be proud of your thoughts and don’t ever let anyone tell you they aren’t worth being shared.
The scene unfolded before her, breathtaking, unexpected, new. The fresh feeling of pain was still present, achingly sharp and deep, but now a part of it lessoned. Perhaps he was gone, but at least, if nothing else, she could give him this perfect resting place. At least, here, they could be together, just the two of them.
There’s a movie playing today.
That scene just blew my mind away. So simple yet conveying such a strong message. Makes you wonder what a piece of art can do and what an influence it can have on the day to day life of an ordinary person like me
There is a time and place for someone to make a scene, you have to be careful when and where you do it. It has to be the perfect time, in the perfect place, with the perfect people. If you aren’t causing attention, then you aren’t doing it right. There is a time and place for everything.
The stage is set, the lights are hot. Behind the curtin you can hear the crowd russtling and whispering to each other. In the air there is a thick feeling of anticipation and excitement. The crowd goes quiet, the curtin goes up and you take a deep breathe as the spotlight hits.
The curtain of night set the scene. The sun had drifted beyond the horizon, and the geese were drifting on the lake in the twilight. The first of the stars shone in the sky, and the trees swayed softly in the wind. And in each other’s arms, we smiled, and breathed in the cool fall air.
this is my second scene
second chances to recreate old memories, scarred memories that taint brains and ways of thought forever.
the memories are stronger than the experiences
so what people make of them, their mindsets are above all. we make the experience, the experience doesn’t make us.
The scene plays out in my mind every night. A door opens in the wall and I peer through. Somewhere inside, or outside, depending on the door, somewhere there is the one thing I am looking for…..a resting place for my mind….deep inside my mind.
the movie scene
the scene of the crime was so gruesome it stayed in their minds for years and when they thought they could finally forget, it came back to haunt them
they will never be the same
the mind and the memories it thinks and possess are much stronger than the actual experiences themselves
She was going to make a scene, I could feel it. I could see it in the set of her shoulders and the glare on her face. Only, I think this partifcular security guard has already had his fill of ladies like her; his fingers twitched on the hand near his taser.
Lily was at the scene in a sprint and a hop, looking for the outline drawn in stark white on the asphalt. She was the first to be there, before the detectives, snapping shots for the department as the greenhorn Kentucky Rodriguez approached her.
“What’ve we got, girl?” he asked.
“Double homicide,” she replied.
acting out a play can be so much fun. you get lost in the character it’s so much better than real life. everything’s fake and for one second you’re in someone else’s life. escaping your own reality. I wish I could be in scenes forever so i can be some where that isn’t my life.
there was a place far from the world where a fierce battle scene was taking place, the land was filled with blood and death filled the air. it was a mess and the world was broken. no one could have predicted this, not even me. it was terrifying and i held my breathe trying not to cry as i watched the bodies fall to the ground. i knew these people at some point.. i don’t get it! this is terrible. what a scene.
It was quite the scene. Blood, guts, hair, and a heart. A single red heart, still beating listlessly on the stained concrete. She walked over, dark hair drenched in various liquids, and picked it up. It pulsed faintly in her hand. Destroyed, useless, she clenched her hand in sudden fury and crushed the last living organ on the boat. The waves sprayed against her face, leaving a salty and bitter taste in her mouth as she tossed it out to sea.
its a play. and I don’t know. I just like to think of life in increments, and there are different scenes in your life like a memory would be considered a scene. and then they’r’e all put together to form the acts of your life and finally the play
I’m a little jealous of the way you can cause a scene just by catching the wrong glimpse from across the room. You’re a walking grenade.
it was quite the scene here, the girls wearing their skimpy dresses and me in my sweater. i don’t slut shame, so i guess that it was fine, being feminist and all. i am the wallflower here, clutching my soda that isn’t diet because i simply don’t care enough, and watching those who once cared refuse to acknowledge me. i watch other people become special. i recede from personhood.
Scene. It’s a strange word. There was a time when we would say scene meaning part of a play, or some sort of environment. But now it’s something so different. It’s a social standing. And what’s right about that?
The scene plays over in my head again, like a broken record. When my father had left, I’d been standing there and watched him leave with no clue where he was going or why. Years after, I had always thought he was just sick of my mother and I. But now, I know that I was wrong.
And so we reached our final scene, the climax of all events passed, coming to an end
When the movie comes alive. But has more and more every single second. It can be action packed… or dead on sight. It never matters, because it takes more than one to make a whole story. People can also cause a scene. The ladies on this Earth.. know quite a bit about it. Forget to take off your shoes.. and boy you’ll have the biggest SCENE IN YOUR LIFE! More than any action packed movie! The sad part..
The scene was a horrific one in my eyes. People were crying in the most desperate way humans can cry, there was blood, there was anger, confusion, sorrow, there was the end of life. But he saw the scene different. In his mind, when the scene played, it was art.
I haven’t any particular one I belong to because I am beholden to no group but the ones I choose. I go where I am needed and I go where I’m not. You hear strange things from scene to scene. All of it could fill books and books and books. But you have to know how to listen, know how to look, know when to watch and when to glance away. With each change, you get skilled enough to wear where you’re at like it’s your very own second nature.
He walked in to his normal hangout. The acrid smoke that hung in the air let him know that she was already there. “Oh great.” he thought. I’ve made her wait. I’ll hear about that for the rest of the evening.
She made a scene. It wasn’t a huge, all-out-in-the-light-of-day temper tantrum, but she was determined to make her exasperation clear to anyone within remote earshot.
the scene of the crime is where i lay. my spirit os soft and free now. life is a scene in its own just one scene in the whole play. but the play never ends.
set.
can’t get over the wall that he build so
she finds a tree and carves a catapult.
crack bam sling and over the thing
didnt need to bust through all she needed to do
was flee
so she flew
homegirl flew the coup
the scene. we are on the stage. the lights are on my face. everyone is watching me and i cant mess up. what would happen if i did. it would be bad and embarrassing true, but then at least i would get some attention. i am too shy right now and no one knows who i am. i want them to know that i am more than just the awkward girl. no one has given me a chance. i need to make something of myself, take a risk, be known. the only question is how. and action.
I just wish we didn’t have to leave such a scene. Which was all on my part. But if you wanted me… Why’d you have to go change your mind. We were almost perfect because I respected your game time. And when you were gone I had plenty of game time. It was the perfect scene.
I remember how badly I wanted to be a “scenester.” I wanted to be a part of the scene. I wanted my life to be like a scene from a movie or a book. All I wanted was a scene. A fucking interesting scene.
I like to think that life is a bit like a movie. Sometimes, I sit in my car and I look out the window and I have a slow song playing and I drive slower than I should (because you don’t get great gas mileage when you’re going twenty in a fifty-five). I pretend someone out there is watching, and I’m some sexy actress whom everyone wants.
I walked into the room in a party hat it was a strange room. No doors no windows, how did I get to this strange seen? How did I get in at all. Now that I think of it I can’t remember anything but this little box that I’m now living in. There has to be more to life than these gray walls and dark cei
The scene was horrific, there was no doubt.
But of course, no one would mention anything about it. No one ever did. They were all too afraid to speak to the authorities, the pathetic little creatures. As far as they were concerned, if someone was truly afraid (enough to go against their masters’ wishes), then they could go to the police in the cities themselves.
It was difficult to get to the cities, anyway. Very difficult.
Your life would be on the line if you went against your masters’ wishes.
It’s a type of style, an adjective, or a noun. It’s versitaile, and is a word that everybody knows. It’s not a strange word, but it’s not something that you hear every day or in normal conversations.
In books, in movies. I want to read Harry Potter, I love that series. I really don’t think I spelled that correctly, but whatever, I wonder if this has spellcheck, let’s find out: afdsjklasdfj yes it does. I want Isabelle’s journal to get here already.
Walking along the aisle. Looking around me were people shedding their tears of happiness. And they look so happy for me. And as I reached the end of the aisle there is a boy waiting for me and reaching my hand. So that was the scene I was dreaming.