Others? Other people, other places, other things. Other dimensions, other existences, other galaxies. Other species, other versions, other other other. I don’t know what to write about others. Always be kind to others.
Brittany
The Others in the back of the room had always confused me. Whilst I talked about the previous night’s party with the rest of the class, they would sit there in silence. Voices echoed against the wall and whenever someone were to rush past them, they would send gusts of wind blowing against their faces. However, that never seemed to bother them as their intent gazes never left their books. They looked at those printed letters the same way I looked at the guy I fancied; with intrigue and passion and undeniable curiosity as they just couldn’t peel their eyes away from it.
So I sat there and stared. And stared some more. And some more. I stared at their concentrated faces and could only imagine how the world seemed from their point of view at that very moment. I thought about the characters they were picturing and the emotions that were stirring in their stomachs.
I later found myself at the library checking out a dusty novel hidden on the bottom shelf of the third aisle.
The next day I found myself sat with the Others. Opening the pages, I began reading and felt myself get swept up in a life that was so unlike my own that it became addictive. I read, and read some more, and felt as if there was a thousand miles between myself and the girl next to me. The journey that the protagonist took me on was one that I both loved and was envious of and had no intention of leaving anytime soon. I lived a life that I could otherwise never even dream of.
That’s what being part of the Others did to you. It left you at the mercy of every single author on top of every word they wrote. The pages are holy between your fingers and you can barely stop your eyes from flying across the sentences as the eagerness nearly becomes too much. And God, that feeling that you get when you finally read the last line of that book you’ve been loving recently, well, let’s just say that the buzz of alcohol pales in comparison to it.
Others will try to define you, capture you. Others will create a bigger story for yourself than you ever dreamed. The problem with others, they arn’t you, they’ve never felt that pain, they’ve never felt that struggle. You give a definitions to others, not let the others define you.
Allysa Hill
In all honesty, we were all different. I came from a different country to the girl on my left, and she had a different hair colour to the guy on her left. Yet we all had the same motive; we all wanted to live and that, in some strange way, made us all the same.
We were always the ones that were there. But it’s like we were never really there. Always right in front of their faces but never being seen. We were the ones that got invited out as an afterthought, the ones who were missing from the group texts. We were the others.
I crossed my arms and stared at the people at the Other table. They were always huddled together, murmuring and looking skeptical and afraid. The idea had been to integrate them into our society, but it didn’t seem like that was ever going to happen. Nobody had ever tried to befriend them before….and yet, the red-head girl was always catching my eye. I had almost talked to her yesterday. What would happen if I did? I turned away when I realized my staring had become gawking, and tried to think about something besides the Others.
The others stare at us blankly.
I love them, but that’s all they’ll ever be: others.
It’s only about us two, you and me, darling, staring at each other like we want to kill each. Is that homicidal intent behind your beautiful, beautiful eyes? I can’t tell, and I’m fairly certain I never will.
Sara
Love others, forgive others, help others, feed others, care for others, hug others, be there for others, it’s all about others.
Catherine Brown
When I think about others I can not help but think about myself. Don’t get me wrong, it’s not about being selfish, it’s just that I can not help to , sometimes, compare myself with others.
put them first
they are so strange
be kind to our fellow man
they are different avoid them
we are our brother’s keeper
go back to where you came from
boundaries
lines
always drawing, dividing
there are no others
just us
poetwarrior
He stopped at his reached the edge of the party. There were party streamers and bright lights, and gaily decorated tables with candles on them, near the water’s edge. He had been preparing himself for attending this party, but when he approached the bar, he realized he didn’t know any of the people standing there. He looked around, for others in his group, any familiar face. He caught the eye of one woman and she glared at him; he realized that he had been staring and then moved away from the lights and returned to his room.
The others, who walk in swing-step on the promenade, promenading, if you will. Whose stark-white smiles flash in unison, or in ripples along their ranks, arm-in-arm, as they skip (or goose-step in the masturbatory fantasy of a degenerate) to the shining shores of oft-promised future. They flicker like lightning in far away clouds on farther awayer horizons and we think, “If only I could flicker so,” like the real truth of the projector and it’s many concentrated attendants.
I feel separated and isolated from the others. i want to be a part of the others, but i am also glad I’m not a part of the others. Others have a place that philosophers define as being degraded, but from this place things can bloom.
Frank
She looked at the others inside of the grey building, through the huge store window. She was supposed to walk inside, but she had no clue how to start a conversation with these people, at least not the kind of conversation they were looking for. Three months ago she got the email that fucked her life up once again, her mom finally decided she was ready for joined therapy, after 2 years of avoiding any type of contact. It wasn’t fair, after years and years of neglect, she finally picked herself up again and she was able to build a life for herself and somewhat normal relationships. But now, she needed to go inside and talk about problems that were ignored for such a long time. She had to cancel school to come here, something that she normally wouldn’t have complained about, but in this moment she would’ve rather sat through a boring physics course than talk about the past and future. She made eye contact with the woman she hadn’t seen in months and took a first step into the building.
others have seen many different sides of me and I often wonder how many other sides I’ve seen of them. how many of us are displaying one personality while thinking about another one. we are all others.
Megan
I was taught at a young age that you should do unto others as you’d want them to do unto you. I’ve carried that with me through life, and still think of it often. It’s a great value I’ll impart onto my children, as well.
Other people are very interesting,people are all around us and vary in different sizes,colors.. I think a lot about how others feel, do others think about me ?
There are others out there, people who could potentially be a part of your life should you so choose to extend them a hand. But there’s always a risk in forging bonds. Some connections are flimsy. Others only stay strong until a need is met.
Other are the ones that will bring you down or bring you up. It is up to chose who these others in our lives. They are not necessarily family or friends, but they do impact some parts of your life. Be mindful of who these others are.
Winston
my family and friends are others that surround me. I need to share my light with others more often. I can learn from others – if I listen and pay attention.
Lu
In the distance, she could see the groups of people, huddling, trying to stay warm. She pushed her hands deeper into her pockets and kept walking.
others will break you, tear you down, make you cry
but no one said you have to take into account what others say
because others opinions dont matter at all in the big scheme of things
never be influenced by the words of others
only listen to yours
Susan Jones
The ones who are defined by what they aren’t. The ones that are unknown, and fill the dystopian novels with odd, strange people to make it dystopian and frightening. Or perhaps they are the ones that look like us, pretend to be us but whom we know aren’t us, and never will be. We think they’ll never be they’re the others. But really, it’s because there’s no us in the first place.
others are happy
others are in love
others have money
others have homes
others are popular
others go places
others are healthy
others don’t cry
others are okay
me? i’m not.
stranger
Others. Christmas is all about others. Not yourself. What is it they say? To get joy, you should think of Jesus first, then others, then yourself. J, O, Y. Joy.
Ophelia
Others. What a relatable time. Ever since I was a child, I’ve been taught that giving is better than receiving. We should always help the homeless. My life is centered around helping others. I love to volunteer at races and helping other people receive the same opportunities as offered me. Always put yourself behind others. Be last. It’ll make everything feel better, I promise.
How do we actually help others? Are we helping ourselves more than we are helping them? Who do we do it for? Does it matter? Is there a right way to help others or should we let them by?
The others were sitting in the living room by the Christmas tree, but I was standing on the back porch with a glass of red wine, staring up at the stars and braving myself against the chill. Standing next to me was Celeste, a friend of mine since high school, and the way she nestled her body against mine was another indicator of how inseparable we had become. We had celebrated many Christmases together, ever since her family disowned her; and while the others watched TV and cleaned up wrapping paper, there we were, keeping each other warm.
Belinda Roddie
Gli altri sono ciò che c’è là fuori, pensi. Ma è grazie a loro se sai chi sei. Sono dentro di te. Sono te.
Andrea
They are you. You are them.
Andrea
No matter how I feel. No matter what I think. I always feel a burden upon my heart and soul. No matter what my needs. No matter what my desires. What others feel, think, need, and desire, always takes priority over me. Some days I feel completely overwhelmed by the burden of “others”, then I remember how full, blessed, and complete my life is because of the “others” within my life who enrich me in ways I will always appreciate and cherish.
I would not change a single ounce of the weight I feel. Instead, I will snuggle up within that very weight like a favorite comforter or quilt. I am lifted up by the very thing that weighs me down, “Others”
Die anderen. Immer vergleiche ich mich mit denen. Das muss aufhören. Das geht so nicht weiter. Ich werde krank davon. Es hilft mir nicht. Ich bin ich. Es ist egal, wer oder was oder wie die anderen sind. Es wäre gut, wenn sie mich inspirieren würden. Aber das tun sie nicht. Bzw. ich lasse mich nicht von ihnen inspirieren. Ich ziehe mich selbst damit runter, dass ich nicht bin wie sie.
Others? Other people, other places, other things. Other dimensions, other existences, other galaxies. Other species, other versions, other other other. I don’t know what to write about others. Always be kind to others.
The Others in the back of the room had always confused me. Whilst I talked about the previous night’s party with the rest of the class, they would sit there in silence. Voices echoed against the wall and whenever someone were to rush past them, they would send gusts of wind blowing against their faces. However, that never seemed to bother them as their intent gazes never left their books. They looked at those printed letters the same way I looked at the guy I fancied; with intrigue and passion and undeniable curiosity as they just couldn’t peel their eyes away from it.
So I sat there and stared. And stared some more. And some more. I stared at their concentrated faces and could only imagine how the world seemed from their point of view at that very moment. I thought about the characters they were picturing and the emotions that were stirring in their stomachs.
I later found myself at the library checking out a dusty novel hidden on the bottom shelf of the third aisle.
The next day I found myself sat with the Others. Opening the pages, I began reading and felt myself get swept up in a life that was so unlike my own that it became addictive. I read, and read some more, and felt as if there was a thousand miles between myself and the girl next to me. The journey that the protagonist took me on was one that I both loved and was envious of and had no intention of leaving anytime soon. I lived a life that I could otherwise never even dream of.
That’s what being part of the Others did to you. It left you at the mercy of every single author on top of every word they wrote. The pages are holy between your fingers and you can barely stop your eyes from flying across the sentences as the eagerness nearly becomes too much. And God, that feeling that you get when you finally read the last line of that book you’ve been loving recently, well, let’s just say that the buzz of alcohol pales in comparison to it.
Others will try to define you, capture you. Others will create a bigger story for yourself than you ever dreamed. The problem with others, they arn’t you, they’ve never felt that pain, they’ve never felt that struggle. You give a definitions to others, not let the others define you.
In all honesty, we were all different. I came from a different country to the girl on my left, and she had a different hair colour to the guy on her left. Yet we all had the same motive; we all wanted to live and that, in some strange way, made us all the same.
We were always the ones that were there. But it’s like we were never really there. Always right in front of their faces but never being seen. We were the ones that got invited out as an afterthought, the ones who were missing from the group texts. We were the others.
I crossed my arms and stared at the people at the Other table. They were always huddled together, murmuring and looking skeptical and afraid. The idea had been to integrate them into our society, but it didn’t seem like that was ever going to happen. Nobody had ever tried to befriend them before….and yet, the red-head girl was always catching my eye. I had almost talked to her yesterday. What would happen if I did? I turned away when I realized my staring had become gawking, and tried to think about something besides the Others.
The others stare at us blankly.
I love them, but that’s all they’ll ever be: others.
It’s only about us two, you and me, darling, staring at each other like we want to kill each. Is that homicidal intent behind your beautiful, beautiful eyes? I can’t tell, and I’m fairly certain I never will.
Love others, forgive others, help others, feed others, care for others, hug others, be there for others, it’s all about others.
When I think about others I can not help but think about myself. Don’t get me wrong, it’s not about being selfish, it’s just that I can not help to , sometimes, compare myself with others.
put them first
they are so strange
be kind to our fellow man
they are different avoid them
we are our brother’s keeper
go back to where you came from
boundaries
lines
always drawing, dividing
there are no others
just us
He stopped at his reached the edge of the party. There were party streamers and bright lights, and gaily decorated tables with candles on them, near the water’s edge. He had been preparing himself for attending this party, but when he approached the bar, he realized he didn’t know any of the people standing there. He looked around, for others in his group, any familiar face. He caught the eye of one woman and she glared at him; he realized that he had been staring and then moved away from the lights and returned to his room.
There was always someone in the next room. I try to concentrate on drinking my coffee. The aroma of it pushing into my eyes, the insistent steaming.
The others, who walk in swing-step on the promenade, promenading, if you will. Whose stark-white smiles flash in unison, or in ripples along their ranks, arm-in-arm, as they skip (or goose-step in the masturbatory fantasy of a degenerate) to the shining shores of oft-promised future. They flicker like lightning in far away clouds on farther awayer horizons and we think, “If only I could flicker so,” like the real truth of the projector and it’s many concentrated attendants.
I feel separated and isolated from the others. i want to be a part of the others, but i am also glad I’m not a part of the others. Others have a place that philosophers define as being degraded, but from this place things can bloom.
She looked at the others inside of the grey building, through the huge store window. She was supposed to walk inside, but she had no clue how to start a conversation with these people, at least not the kind of conversation they were looking for. Three months ago she got the email that fucked her life up once again, her mom finally decided she was ready for joined therapy, after 2 years of avoiding any type of contact. It wasn’t fair, after years and years of neglect, she finally picked herself up again and she was able to build a life for herself and somewhat normal relationships. But now, she needed to go inside and talk about problems that were ignored for such a long time. She had to cancel school to come here, something that she normally wouldn’t have complained about, but in this moment she would’ve rather sat through a boring physics course than talk about the past and future. She made eye contact with the woman she hadn’t seen in months and took a first step into the building.
others have seen many different sides of me and I often wonder how many other sides I’ve seen of them. how many of us are displaying one personality while thinking about another one. we are all others.
I was taught at a young age that you should do unto others as you’d want them to do unto you. I’ve carried that with me through life, and still think of it often. It’s a great value I’ll impart onto my children, as well.
Other people are very interesting,people are all around us and vary in different sizes,colors.. I think a lot about how others feel, do others think about me ?
There are others out there, people who could potentially be a part of your life should you so choose to extend them a hand. But there’s always a risk in forging bonds. Some connections are flimsy. Others only stay strong until a need is met.
i don’t like playing with others unfriendly!
Other are the ones that will bring you down or bring you up. It is up to chose who these others in our lives. They are not necessarily family or friends, but they do impact some parts of your life. Be mindful of who these others are.
my family and friends are others that surround me. I need to share my light with others more often. I can learn from others – if I listen and pay attention.
In the distance, she could see the groups of people, huddling, trying to stay warm. She pushed her hands deeper into her pockets and kept walking.
others will break you, tear you down, make you cry
but no one said you have to take into account what others say
because others opinions dont matter at all in the big scheme of things
never be influenced by the words of others
only listen to yours
The ones who are defined by what they aren’t. The ones that are unknown, and fill the dystopian novels with odd, strange people to make it dystopian and frightening. Or perhaps they are the ones that look like us, pretend to be us but whom we know aren’t us, and never will be. We think they’ll never be they’re the others. But really, it’s because there’s no us in the first place.
others are happy
others are in love
others have money
others have homes
others are popular
others go places
others are healthy
others don’t cry
others are okay
me? i’m not.
Others. Christmas is all about others. Not yourself. What is it they say? To get joy, you should think of Jesus first, then others, then yourself. J, O, Y. Joy.
Others. What a relatable time. Ever since I was a child, I’ve been taught that giving is better than receiving. We should always help the homeless. My life is centered around helping others. I love to volunteer at races and helping other people receive the same opportunities as offered me. Always put yourself behind others. Be last. It’ll make everything feel better, I promise.
How do we actually help others? Are we helping ourselves more than we are helping them? Who do we do it for? Does it matter? Is there a right way to help others or should we let them by?
The others were sitting in the living room by the Christmas tree, but I was standing on the back porch with a glass of red wine, staring up at the stars and braving myself against the chill. Standing next to me was Celeste, a friend of mine since high school, and the way she nestled her body against mine was another indicator of how inseparable we had become. We had celebrated many Christmases together, ever since her family disowned her; and while the others watched TV and cleaned up wrapping paper, there we were, keeping each other warm.
Gli altri sono ciò che c’è là fuori, pensi. Ma è grazie a loro se sai chi sei. Sono dentro di te. Sono te.
They are you. You are them.
No matter how I feel. No matter what I think. I always feel a burden upon my heart and soul. No matter what my needs. No matter what my desires. What others feel, think, need, and desire, always takes priority over me. Some days I feel completely overwhelmed by the burden of “others”, then I remember how full, blessed, and complete my life is because of the “others” within my life who enrich me in ways I will always appreciate and cherish.
I would not change a single ounce of the weight I feel. Instead, I will snuggle up within that very weight like a favorite comforter or quilt. I am lifted up by the very thing that weighs me down, “Others”
Die anderen. Immer vergleiche ich mich mit denen. Das muss aufhören. Das geht so nicht weiter. Ich werde krank davon. Es hilft mir nicht. Ich bin ich. Es ist egal, wer oder was oder wie die anderen sind. Es wäre gut, wenn sie mich inspirieren würden. Aber das tun sie nicht. Bzw. ich lasse mich nicht von ihnen inspirieren. Ich ziehe mich selbst damit runter, dass ich nicht bin wie sie.