Mitch

[size=1][font=century gothic][color=gray] They are all, of course, so cute and sad-looking. I especially like the grayscale one.[/size][/font][/color]

[QUOTE][i]Originally posted by Sara [/i] [B][b]hehehe..good ideas, but why don't u ppl read the bible [/b] [size=1]Boy oh boy...You're really asking for it. Mitch--How can you not believe in hope? I mean...wow. Hope--It just [i]is.[/i] Even when I'd rather not deal with it, it still flits around. Emily Dickinson, [b]254[/b]. [/size] [/B][/QUOTE] [size=1][font=century gothic][color=gray] As I said before, I see God and afterlife as hope in many people's eyes. They simply believe in him because so many millions of other people believe in him, and simply because they do want to live forever. Hope is a funny thing. It certainly is, but what is it? Can you give me an exact noun for it? One that explains it specifically and powerfully? Perhaps you can and perhaps you can't. What it comes down to is emotions are what control us so much. Hope is just another motion of emotion and control. It's holding onto something to give life some meaning. To me, now, it does not seem my life does have a meaning. I'm just here to live and die like so many others, and like you and him and [i]everyone[/i]. I'm not going to believe in something that I cannot believe in. I'm not going to lie and say I do. I do not belive in God. It's as simple as that. I think watching [i]The Matrix: Reloaded[/i] caused me to consider many things. Hope is one of those. It's what makes us so strong and so weak. And I don't want to hold on to something that's more an apparition than anything else it possibly can be. I'd rather die knowing a truth, but there is no truth. There is only the realization the end is the end. The beginning is the beginning. Even that right there is flawed. Who's to say? Exaclty. No one's to say. There could be an afterlife there couldn't. There could be a God, and, there couldn't. To assume is not to believe. Can I say it again? To assume is not to believe. I don't believe in hope. I don't assume there is hope. All I have is what I believe and these are not part of them.[/size][/font][/color]

[size=1][color=gray] I'm going to revise these two poems I believe. Especially the second. I wrote it last night at three in the morning. oO. [b][u]Cold Kisses For A Still Night[/b][/u] Mary sat musing the knife in her cold hand Sipping her glass bottle of beer through her rose lips The baby was crying in the other room She just kept watching the tube though And sipping her glass of beer As she sat musing the knife in her cold hand There was the thud of the door being slammed Mary knew this noise as Tony entered the kitchen Tony came to her and he froze "Mary, what are you doing?" was all that came out "I don't know what I'm doing," she said simply And she took another drink of her glass bottle "I don't know." "Yeah, you do know what you're doing. You've done it before. And you're not going to go through it. I love you too damn much." Tony walked over to her and stood her up Mary's eyes were intoxicated and thin Like two death stones just skipping in a pool Her face was crooked and sad and all over her hands There were scars and wounds Tony took these scarred hands and placed them in his And he moved his face right next to hers as he spoke in a whisper "Mary, I love you too damn much. Now listen, there's a baby out there In his room that loves you. And there's me, too. I love you too much to See you like this. Now please, please tell me what's wrong. I probably Have an idea of what's wrong, but please tell me." Mary began to cry and sob with a wail so loud That hit and touched all around And fell to the ground "I..my Dad's dead," was all that Mary said. She stopped as soon as she spoke as her face turned to tears Tony grabbed onto her scarred hands even tighter "Your Dad's been dead for a month, Mary, you know. I remember the day the death of his news came As well as you do. I was really surprised you Didn't even cry when it happened." He stopped and let out a very long sigh :"But here we are Mary. These tears in Your eyes are fine. This knife, though." Tony took the knife from her shaking hand "This knife isn't fine." He walked over to the wood knife holder And set the knife where it belonged Mary sat back down in her chair She shut off the TV as Tony came He sat down in a chair across from Mary And Tony noticed He grimaced at it as his eyes fell on it "Dear God Mary. Why did you do that?" he said As he stood quickly up and came to her All across Mary's shirt there was dried blood Tony ran his hand over it "I couldn't help it," said Mary. "Show me what you did." She pulled up her shirt, taking it off All across her stomach there were large wounds They were deep and thick Some were still bleeding "I am so sorry Tony." Tony's eyes darkened as he ran his hand Over the wounds all over her stomach "Mary I don't know what to say. Just don't be sorry About it. You could've called me at work." Their eyes locked at one another as they spoke but didn't Mary felt very guilty for what she had done and she didn't know what to say As she looked in Tony's eyes and heard the pain Mary stood up and gave Tony a very long hug She held onto his back until Tony couldn't even breathe "You're right Tony. I should've Called you instead of Letting out the pain like this. I couldn't help it though," Mary said as her face and arms hugged Tony so tight When the hug was over the baby was still crying It was still the middle of the night They kissed in the dark until they couldn't kiss anymore They kissed and kissed until their minds were fuzzy And their lips were sore When it was all over Mary was still crying just like the baby And the sun was coming up the horizon in red light They stared at each other long through the sunrise That was when Mary finally spoke "I love you too much too Tony," was all and what she said They hugged as they went to bed She fell asleep soon after Her dreams were about him About him dead [b][u]Fire And Ice (Hercules and Achilles)[/b][/u] The lights flickered In my head The lights went out And it was dark I was breathing black There was nothing Not even a cry Ice was on my face As the snow felt on my cheeks The sky was icicles above me In my head Numb so I can't feel Dead there was nothing Not even a cry I'm wailing in here I was breathing black The lights still flicker Until they go out I'm floating because it's there Some soul of ice some river's stare And as the skulls float me by Hades' snow is flowing in my blood The river River Styx's love It's so cold and I can't feel my hands Can't feel anything but my head My head that's where I breathe There's a man in this head He's talking to me Talking about bleed Talking to me I can't taste carbon I taste nothing The river River Styx's hum It flickers in my head Until these lights go out I was dipped in this water This skull's tainted of breath I'm breathing black Breathing until Achilles whispers back All I could feel Was this ice on my hair And this feeling That I needed someone bad I was dipped by my head up Held on the ice's touch And this feeling That I needed someone bad I learned how to love again In this dead skull of this head I can't feel any more I was dipped in this ice It's so cold My entire body was frostbite When she took me out When Aphrodite kissed the water Touching everything but this head I learned how to love again In this dead skull of this head The river River Styx has a price Achilles knows this As he whispers to me And Jesus Christ Jesus Christ I learned how to love again In this dead skull of this head There wasn't a cross on my head I breathed and breathed again I was dipped in this ice All I could feel Was the lights in my head Flickering and flickering saying dead Aphrodite I learned how to love again Touching everything but this head As I breathe until my breath is cold My mind is numb The lights in my head Went straight to my heart I was dipped in this ice The river River Styx's ice And Jesus Christ River Styx has a price I learned how to love again In this dead skull of this head The lights flicker In my head And if I had to choose If I had Achilles and Hercules to be Fire and Ice if you please I would die by Ice Achilles Jesus Christ The River Styx does have a price I am like you My head wasn't dipped I'd die by ice As the lights flicker In my head It's too late I'm too dead It's three a.m. I've got to call it a night I can tell you the River Styx does have a price I would die by ice For each a Fire and Ice Each as beautiful and good deaths Hercules was Fire Achilles was Ice And Jesus Christ Jesus Christ I learned how to love again Choosing to die by Ice In this dead skull of this head I learned how to love again[/color][/size]

[size=1][font=century gothic][color=gray] Not too bad at all, Shy. The thing is though, what you're saying will never happen. I have a denial obsession too,heh. But you'll never always be happy and nor will I. This column does its job very well though. I especially love the last sentence.[/size][/font][/color]

[size=1][font=century gothic][color=gray] This show does pretty bad justice to X-Men in my opinion. I've only seen a few episodes, but I can tell you that the older version of this show was a lot better. You know, the other cartoon that actually followed the comic? I haven't seen that for a long time. Hm.[/size][/font][/color]

[size=1][font=century gothic][color=gray]beau·ty ( P ) Pronunciation Key (byt) n. pl. beau·ties The quality that gives pleasure to the mind or senses and is associated with such properties as harmony of form or color, excellence of artistry, truthfulness, and originality. One that is beautiful, especially a beautiful woman. A quality or feature that is most effective, gratifying, or telling: The beauty of the venture is that we stand to lose nothing. An outstanding or conspicuous example: ?Hammett's gun went off. The shot was a beauty, just slightly behind the eyes? (Lillian Hellman). -------------------------------------------------------------------------------- [Middle English beaute, from Old French biaute, from Vulgar Latin *bellits, from Latin bellus, pretty. See deu-2 in Indo-European Roots.] Source: The American Heritage® Dictionary of the English Language, Fourth Edition Copyright © 2000 by Houghton Mifflin Company. Published by Houghton Mifflin Company. All rights reserved. [Buy it] beauty \Beau"ty\, n.; pl. Beauties . [OE. beaute, beute, OF. beaut['e], biaut['e], Pr. beltat, F. beaut['e], fr. an assumed LL. bellitas, from L. bellus pretty. See Beau.] 1. An assemblage or graces or properties pleasing to the eye, the ear, the intellect, the [ae]sthetic faculty, or the moral sense. Beauty consists of a certain composition of color and figure, causing delight in the beholder. --Locke. The production of beauty by a multiplicity of symmetrical parts uniting in a consistent whole. --Wordsworth. The old definition of beauty, in the Roman school, was, ``multitude in unity;'' and there is no doubt that such is the principle of beauty. --Coleridge. 2. A particular grace, feature, ornament, or excellence; anything beautiful; as, the beauties of nature. 3. A beautiful person, esp. a beautiful woman. All the admired beauties of Verona. --Shak. 4. Prevailing style or taste; rage; fashion. [Obs.] She stained her hair yellow, which was then the beauty. --Jer. Taylor. Beauty spot, a patch or spot placed on the face with intent to heighten beauty by contrast. Source: Webster's Revised Unabridged Dictionary, © 1996, 1998 MICRA, Inc. beauty n 1: the qualities that give pleasure to the senses [ant: ugliness] 2: a very attractive or seductive looking woman [syn: smasher, stunner, knockout, sweetheart, peach, lulu, looker, mantrap, dish] 3: an outstanding example of its kind; "his roses were beauties"; "when I make a mistake it's a beaut" [syn: beaut] Just take what you will for that. It definitely depends on the context, though. I could say it sarcastically. Or I could say it emotionally. Or I could say it with hate. Or I could..[/size][/font][/color]

[size=1][font=century gothic][color=gray] To me, the repetiveness of this story is great. It makes Charles appear that much more insane. I'm certain that it is annoying, but it's just what happened when I wrote this. I do not write happy things. I will say it now and I will say it again. Don't even worry about the names. The Charles has nothing to do with the Charles here on OB, and yes, I did use Virginia for Ginny's name. I won't deny it. Charles even saw crosses in her eyes..and Ginny's religious. So that's where that came from. I'm glad you sort of liked it.[/color][/size][/font]

[size=1][font=century gothic][color=gray] I have of course heard of Frost. I have a complete collection of his works as well. I'm reading through it very slowly. His poems have a lot to do with God and nature. Those are the main things. But he's all over the place most of the time. He's probably one of my favorite poets. He isn't the favorite poet of mine or anything, but he's pretty good.[/size][/font][/color]

[size=1][font=century gothic][color=gray] I will certainly have to check these authors out, then. Especially considering that school's now out. I'm not going to be too busy, other then once I get a job. Sylvia Plath especially I'd like to read. Morbid poetry is just my thing.[/size][/font][/color]

[size=1][font=century gothic][color=gray] It's very streamlined, which I love. I can also see very certain that it does in fact go well with the liquid skin. The entire unopaqueness of it is nice.[/size][/font][/color]

[size=1][font=century gothic][color=gray] I really like it. The blues all work very well with the whites. At first I thought that top text was too dark, but it's pretty near perfect where it is. A/B[/size][/color][/font]

[size=1][font=century gothic][color=gray] Personally, I'd like it without Neo's or whoever's face that is on it. Instead of the face, just black there. I don't like that font, either. You need a really thin font for it. That'd look better.[/color][/size][/font]

[size=1][font=century gothic][color=gray] I never watch TV, except for late at night when I'm trying to sleep. Even then, I usually am writing when it's late at night like that. I guess I'm a night person. But no. I'd say I watch even less than an hour of TV in an entire week.[/size][/font][/color]

[size=1][font=century gothic][color=gray] Same to you, Justin. I don't hope I'm right at all. It's only assumptions, all of this. All I can say is an end is an end. Death is an end. There's nothing afterwards to an end. It doesn't loop into a beginning. Not in my mind. Hope is a funny thing. I said it before and I'll say it again. I don't believe in hope anymore really. If you think about it, God is a hope.[/size][/font][/color]

[size=1][font=century gothic][color=gray] *steers* There's nothing wrong, as I said, with homosexuality in a game whatsoever. As long as it isn't sexually explicit. If it's some wonderful love story or something, that's fine with me. As for how it would generally be accepted. I don't think too well. Especially not too well. There. That help?[/size][/font][/color]

[size=1][font=century gothic][color=gray] It doesn't matter to me if there's homosexuality in a damned thing. People will still make fun of it and people will still hate you for liking it and condemn you about it. It's just that way, Shy. Now Ginny and Shy. This isn't a big deal. You guys just need to mind one another's opinion. Let Ginny have her opinion, she has a right to have it. And Shy, don't get so defensive. I know this topic is critical to you. But think. It's only an opinion. [i]Personal[/i] at that. And Ginny, don't get so defensive. Please. You know Shy means well. He's simply using your opinion to contrast and say his. I don't see the big deal. I know sometimes we're just down and one thing leads to another. I've known that a lot recently. But please. Don't get mad over this. It's so small. Shy means well. And you do too, Ginny.[/size][/font][/color]

[size=1][font=century gothic][color=gray] Very good dear Breaky. Now, if you could please, I'd like a death one. Preferably black. With skulls.[/size][/font][/color]

[size=1][font=century gothic][color=gray][b]death [/b] ( P ) Pronunciation Key (dth) n. The act of dying; termination of life. The state of being dead. The cause of dying: Drugs were the death of him. A manner of dying: a heroine's death. often Death A personification of the destroyer of life, usually represented as a skeleton holding a scythe. Bloodshed; murder. Execution. Law. Civil death. The termination or extinction of something: the death of imperialism. Afterlife doesn't work in my mind. At all. When you die you die. There's no getting around it. And death is the [i]end[/i] of something. End. You know what end is, don't you? It's nothing afterwards. Nothing before. Nothing in the middle. Nothing on the side. Nothing to the edge. Nothing to feel. Nothing to care. Nothing to know. Nothing to think. When something's dead, it doesn't know anything anymore. [i]It doesn't exist.[/i] I believe that it's impossible to believe in something until you really see it. Until it's illustrated logically and certainly and percisely in your mind, your body. And physically. We are such physical entities. We live for our emotions we breathe our emotions and we die for our emotions. We cling onto the ideal that everything will last forever and that everything will be remembered and that everything that begins has an end and that everything goes in some flow. Some rhyme. Some rythm. Is this itself true? We live so much for our emotions. We want to be accepted. We want to be known. We want someone to hold onto and hug in our arms. We want someone to kiss and love and make everything that hurts just an illusion. We want to live happy lives. We want to be known in society. We want to be known to something. God is that something that we hold onto. God is that something that's always there looking at you when you're angry when you're mad when you're sad when you're hurting when you're thinking. Without emotions there wouldn't be anything. No violence. No hate. No empathy. No love. No anything. Nothing. It'd be like we were dead. I don't think it's anyone's place to really believe in God and afterlife and heaven and hell. They can in their mind. In the core of their brain. Under emotional and hopeful places. But deep deep deep deep deep deep, so very [i]deep down[/i], there's a side of everyone. Even those that explicitly say that they believe in God, that they speak God's word. There's doubt. There's denial. Hope really is a funny thing. It's something that's so unnamed. Is hope God? Yes, it is in so many ways. Is God hope? Not to me. When you die you don't breathe. You don't see. You don't know. All we know is that you die and that's all there is to it. How can anyone assume that you go to some imaginary illusion up in the sky, or down in the ground? It's my best guess as anyone's best guess in some ways. Believe in what you want. Cling on to God and hope and something. It's better than dying alone and cold. It's better because you have emotions. You have memory. You have feeling. Feeling is strong. It's the hope of emotion. Believe in what you want. I say when you die it ends. It's as simple and as complex and as pronounced as that. I don't even want to go to heaven if there is one. No one, in my opinion, would deserve to be there. God forgives. Hope forgives. But blood and wrongs don't oversee the rights. If God's perfect then he knows this. [/size][/font][/color]

[size=1][color=gray][b][u]Going To Bleed Until I Bleed No More[/b][/u] I remember walking As the cement was cracked And my head was humming As I can't forget The man on the side Of the road He was just walking His face said he was alone That he was cold He needed someone to love I wanted to know I wanted to know Why he was so cold Because he was wearing A large coat When you're wearing a coat Like that You shouldn't be cold His face also said He was alone I didn't know why There was kisses all over his face A cracked smile of teeth you can't begin to erase I cannot forget As I sit here And regret A cracked smile of anything A crack of the cement My head was humming As I can't forget The man on the side Of the road When you looked At his eyes You could tell He'd lived and told Those eyes weren't Certain and sold They were cataract And old When I walked up to him I knew there'd be nothing to find As I put my hand stern on his shoulder I knew how much it would hurt me How much these emotions would toil Just like everything Imagine hard It all disappears This man's the same Now as I tell you As I tell you how it haunts me Once I tell you Imagine hard It all disappears When I walked up to him I looked in his eyes I looked at his meticulous hands Looked at every crack Every line that spanned Now as I tell you Tell you how it haunts me Don't forget Imagine hard It all disappears His eyes his hands I soon noticed How and what stands This man As it is This man was me Is chance and destiny What a paragraph When a period It all begins as one word And it all ends as another Don't forget Imagine hard It all disappears These things as all Are meant to be I'll tell you how it haunts me To see this man to know Apparitions are ghosts As hands are lined And palms are smooth To see this man and know You'll never feel anything No You'll never feel anything When I put my hand On his shoulder He spoke to me His voice was off key It was mine But wasn't me Age is like that Does these things You and I know it Too well I showed a smile As he began to speak It's just like that Knowing the reflection Wondering what came to be The man smiled at me too And his smile wasn't mine It was crude and cut lined Like a straight curve A paper's thin line His smile wasn't mine It was too cold Too weak Too dead What he said I've dug far away And on this page It certainly isn't Going to come out Today All I can say Is I can't believe How I'd changed The pendulum swings Over a pit The blade is ready Serrated and slit Time is not one to know But father time is cold His blade is as sharp as death's Like utter and incantation Mouths of time have clefts Teeth saws and fret Now imagine hard It all disappears Choice is hope You can't quite understand Can't even taste this elope Nor can you know Its slope This man As I've said Was cold Was old It's sad to know Sad to be cold To be old These emotions grip hold Of how I could become like this man If I didn't change the course My repose as I write this is cold Aberrations of late have told This man isn't too far down in me I've been bleeding over this cross I've turned and looked away I've been bleeding over this thought And I've walked and walked As I've bled and bled It's all going to bleed from me Until I bleed no more This man has said He has spoken he has read He's given he's been dead Yet through all this He still hasn't forgot He remembers meeting me When he was younger like I am now Said he knows what I'm feeling Knows that when he's gone I'll still be around I'll meet again At this same spot As my head's humming On the cracked sidewalk's cracks I'm going to bleed and bleed Going to end up here and lead Going to bleed and bleed It's all going to bleed from me Until I bleed no more When I can't bleed no more Then I'm going to be nothing Going to imagine hard And disappear Like that cold man That old man I can remember Such are the memories Inside my mind This man meets with me often He says many things to me He's so much older than me As I lay dead as he whispers to me I am wasting away I'm going to bleed away from this cross Going to bleed right on Lucifer's loss Going to bleed and bleed Until I bleed no more [/color][/size]

[size=1][color=gray] Not much here. Just..needed to write. The phone rang like some loud school bell, and I fell onto my knees. I was shocked. I didn't think he'd ever call me. Especially not this late. But here it was. The phone was ringing. Had woken me from my sleep, made me fall on my knees. Slowly, I picked up the receiver from Mickey's ear. My Mickey phone. I'd had it since forever. "Hello," I said. My voice was cold. Dead. I was having trouble just breathing, I was so tense. I swallowed the spit into the back of my throat dryly, felt along my mouth with the rough of my tongue. "Hello?" I said again. Louder this time. A lot louder. I was just removing the receiver from my ear, just putting it down? "Hello Fran." It was his voice. That voice I hadn't heard since I was just a little girl. A little girl that was only four years old Only naive. Only young. Only just beginning to grow up. I froze in the darkness of my room. Froze stone cold. Finding it even harder to breathe, I slowly brought the receiver back up to my ear. "What do you want?" I said. There was a dead and killing silence. I wanted to just hang up the phone, to just end the entire conversation. Just go back to bed and not remember this even ever happening. Be under my warm sheets and just hug myself to sleep. But I was already here. He laughed, penetrated the silence like some devil chanting from hell. "What're you doing with your life now, anyways, Fran? Wasting it away?" "That's none of your business. Now, if that's all you want?" "?That's not all I want," he said. "I take it you're still wasting your time as a small-time, petty writer. What was it you'd always wanted to do? Write your own novel? Publish your own book of poetry? Hah, things've hit you since then, haven't they?" I was surprised that he knew this. I hadn't talked to him ever, not since I was with him at the fair so long ago when I was only four. He must've talked to my Mom, or something. I hadn't a clue, so I pushed that aside for the moment. Put it in the back of my brain. "That doesn't matter. Now please get to the ****ing point, Frank. What the hell do you want?" I was shaking now Almost being crushed by the ten-ton weight of everything that I'd kept inside of me so long. My head was starting to ache like it always did when things came back to me. "The ****ing point? You're not my daughter?never were. Your blood isn't in my veins, and my blood isn't in yours." I didn't. I couldn't believe what he was saying. But it was hitting me. Very slowly. "Wh..What did you say?" "You know exactly what I said," he said. His voice's tone was now getting sharper. I just stood there, staring at my white floor, staring at nothing. My head aching. "And where'd you figure this out? How the hell am I supposed to believe you, Frank? All you've ever said to me has been ****ing lies. All you've ever given me is nothing but ****ing hell. You've ruined half of my life for me. Half of my ****ing life. And more." The anger was seething now, and my head was thumping mad, too. I reached into my pocket quickly and pulled out my extra strength tylenol I kept at all times. I held the phone with my shoulder, and popped two tablets into my mouth. Chewed them to their tangy, jolting feeling. Then swallowed them. "Haven't you ever thought why your Mom divorced me?" he said. Of course I had. "What the **** do you think I am, Frank? Dumb? Of course I know. Because of who you are." "No, not just that," he said, "think deeper for a goddamned minute. It might be in part for who I am, I'm not going to hide that fact, as ****ing stretched as it is. But think about this. Think about it. ****ing think." I clutched the phone tighter as I popped in another tylenol in my mouth and chewed it into nothing. "Where in the hell are you getting at?" I said. "Where?" "Isn't it obvious? Your Mom got married just three months after she divorced me, didn't she?" She had. "Yeah, of course. Three months almost exactly. What does that have to do with anything, though? Are you saying she was having an af?" "?Exactly! That's my ****ing smart girl I always knew. Jesus Christ, did it take that hard to realize?" "Maybe. But right now Frank, over here it's three a.m. in the ****ing morning. I'm tired. It's been a long ****ing day," I said. "So what's your point with all of this ********? Who cares if I'm not your kid by blood. You don't have any ****ing records of this or anything. And it's pretty pointless to bring this **** up. It's long gone and ****ing over with." I was near hanging up. "But that, dear Fran, is where you're all wrong," he said. I heard the rustle of some papers in the background. "I have them right here." "And even so, what's the ****ing point? You've almost all paid up the child support you've owed me from not paying when you didn't. What's the ****ing point?" "The ****ing point," he said, "is that I want you to drop your abuse charges." I was shaking a lot now. My head was aching and aching and aching. I couldn't feel anything anymore but what he'd made me always feel. The feel of what he'd done to me. The feel of his touch. Of everything and anything that he'd done to me. Of the pain, the abuse. The slaps. The bruises. The blood. It flashed in my mind. Told me who I was, how it'd changed me. How I'd dug it all away so long ago, dug it way under, and found the me I was now. The person I was now. It hurt. Hurt more than anything that he'd ever said. It's funny how such a simple sentence can change your life forever. Or a simple moment can change you forever, too. Not just on a physical level, not just on a psychological level. But a spiritual level. An emotional and spiritual level. He must've had something under his sleeve for if I didn't drop the charges. The charges had been pending for quite a long time. It amazed me how faulty the justice system really was. How unfair. Very unfair. "There's not a goddamned, ****ing way in hell that I'm ever going to remove those charges," I said. I was almost in tears now. "You deserve to rot and die for what you've done to me. I guess you can't even ****ing see that at all. It's just too bad. Too ****ing bad." "Fine," he said, "****ing fine, Fran. You just wait. You just ****ing wait. This isn't the last ****ing words you'll ever hear from me." And that was all. He hung up. I listened to the dead beep of the phone for a long time. Just sitting there. Just thinking. I stood there, my head aching. My heart beating. My mind racing. At five a.m. I finally hung back up my phone. Put it back on Mickey's ear. I was soon back to sleep. But my sleep was unquiet. [/size][/color]

[size=1][font=century gothic][color=gray] What about humans--too violent? Violence is a human at its outwardest. Our inner nature has always been violence.[/size][/font][/color]

[color=gray][size=1][font=century gothic] Sara's labeling herself I see now. And when you label yourself, that's when it all comes together..or falls apart. *shrug* It's a nice quirk for the time being I must admit.[/size][/font][/color]

[size=1][font=century gothic][color=gray] Naruto? What's that? Perhaps you could elaborate? It's an anime series, yes, but [i]why[/i] does it deserve its own forum? Eh. Yeah, I'll be on my way now.[/size][/font][/color]

[size=1][font=rockwell][color=gray] I kind of figured that out the second time I watched it. About that rave scene and all. All I can say is it could've been done [i]a lot[/i] better. Especially Trinity and Neo's scene. It just didn't fit with everything else in the movie. And celebrating over impending doom just doesn't exactly seem logical in [i]my mind[/i]. I would be in a panic if I knew I was going to die lol. I certainly wouldn't be celebrating. But yeah, the metaphor is quite pronounced now that I think about it. But I still don't think it should've been [i]celebration[/i]. It should've shown anger and hate and [i]emotion[/i]. That, to me, would make it make even more sense in my mind. Because emotions are what controls us as humans so much, and so on. Beh. Thanks for clearing that up more in my mind, Jeh. I'm glad you're glad that I posted. This stuff I eat up, though. Allegory is wonderful.[/size][/font][/color]

[size=1][font=century gothic][color=gray] I'm more [b]Ether[/b] than anything I'd have to say. But mostly I'm a mixture of [b]Earth[/b] and [b]Ether[/b]. I'd have to say what James said: we all go through these elements. Our moods change. I'd have to say that the element I am least like most of the time is [b]Fire[/b]. I'm a very calm and reserved person, stoic. I keep everything inside and get rid of it by some creative or thought-found way. I rarely hold anything against someone and if I do, I usually just bury it far inside of me somwhere where I keep it for the right time to strike. Sometimes I act arrogant I guess, but I just use that to cover up how hurting I am sometimes. I'm like that. I guess I'm a really passive person. Most of the time I try to be unemotional, and I don't say much. But inside there's always something going on, and I let few see that.[/size][/font][/color]