One of the best comments anyone ever wrote.
So my friend :icon345rv5: wrote this little masterpiece of a comment on my last journal post. It read almost like an essay and I found it so inspiring I thought to post it as an actual deviation. Read this Winston Churchill like quote.
Which is why we need to expose the brainwashing gender studies universities. This GamerGate issue ceased being just about ethics in journalism when the mainstream media attacked us. I used to think the idea of Cultural Marxism was merely a conspiracy theory from Alex Jones, this woke me up to the reality that this kind of poison was prevalent in our youth. I used to think these people were well intentioned idiots and didn't have enough numbers to be any operational threat to our democracy, now i know that they're not only a operational threat but they're being lead by dishonest extremists with a major agenda no different from Jihadists and crusaders and had these people been claiming to be fighting in the name of Jesus or Allah, society would be more inc
They went to school and never came back..
I was as usual in a state of bliss. That omnipotent feeling like duh, nothing can possibly go wrong with me. Nothing that life throws at me can stir me I am living happily in the paradise of oblivion I created. People are killed? Oh that's pretty normal. People are killed everyday. That place had a traffic accident? Who cares, driver should be blamed. Not my fault. Not my business. Terrorist are going to attack again? Oh a minute of worry. Than its shrugged off. After all , I am living in a big city. They wont attack here. WHY CARE FOR OTHERS? Why affect our own lives for them, after all I am a cursed observer who wont ever be victimized or so I believed .
Anyway, cold and jinxed as I may be, somewhere deep down I still cared, I still had the capability to feel the pain of others. And that I discovered today, on 16th December 2014 even a person like me couldn't stop her tears. The tragedy that has befallen us cannot be described in words.
Imagine yourself as 15 year old ready for schoo
Waiting, Fading, and Floating AwayI started talking to serial killers years ago when the depression started to form. Or maybe it had always been there? I’m not the kind of person who lets my emotions get the best of me. I’m always the calm and rational person people often go to for advice and support.
Though, I’ve always found it funny how people always expect me to be there for them, but when I need them, no one is around. But I guess that’s kind of how my whole life has been. I’m only here when you need me, and I guess that existence is an existence enough.
I had read books on true crime and killers for a while, but it never occurred to me to write to them until I was fifteen. I remember coming home one day done with the world, and instead of taking my life, I wrote a letter.
At first, I had written to Charles Manson, Joe Metheny, Gary Ridgeway, Charles Cullen, and David Berkowtiz (Son of Sam). I wrote about my life, my pain, my struggles, and how lonely I felt. It never really phased me
Against Human TraffickingI'd rather sell my body to the highest bidder, every night for the rest of my life, than sell my child.
I'd rather be a burglar than trade away my child to pay off my debts.
I'd rather live on the streets than see my child give up an education so she/he can earn money for the family.
There is that girl
Yes that girl
Well I know her
I know her since a while now
and I like her
not like a lover or anything
I just like her
I like staring at her
when she draws
when she stares at the sky
I like staring at her in general
I don't know if she is pretty
But I find her pretty
I seem being the only noticing that
I tend to bother her a lot
because I like her
I like her a lot
She says she hates that
But I don't believe her
So I keep bothering her
She also says she is fine
when I ask her what is wrong
But I don't believe her
So I keep asking
I keep asking
because I know
I know she lies
I like her
I like her a lot
and I seem being the only one noticing
I like her so much
that I don't wanna show her
how I feel about her
Even if I have to say
I don't like her
I like her
I like her a lot
I like staring at her writing in her diary
I know she dislikes that
But I keep
It all comes back to you. Thoughts keep running around in my head. Thoughts, memories, emotions, concepts, ideas, characters, personalities… A personality of a character who had ideas for the world, concepts of what life held, emotions in every memory to cross his train of thought. A personality of someone who, as much as it hurts me to say it, doesn’t exist anymore. It’s not that it didn’t exist at some point, that’s not the case at all. Like the harsh words that spilled from a friends mouth: “That is all he was ever meant to be.”
I knew his personality like the back of my hand. I could tell you anything you wanted to know, like how his favorite song was Two Tickets to Paradise and the way he sang his heart out any time it came on the radio. Radio like how we would battle between radio stations on every car ride but of course I always won. Won like how I won match after match of Mario Kart but he denied it to save his pride. Pride like the p
Some Presumptuous Piece Of MindYou say that you wish to understand. The point of life is understanding it; the way the world is, the way our minds work. The difference between how things should go and how reality laughs in our face and shows us that it's really how we want them to go.
Let me tell you what I understand.
I understand that people are people. They may only be human but they are beautiful, and they are good at what they do. I understand that we fall short and it's so easy to get back up, only sometimes we don't realise just how easy it could be.
I understand that some people don't want to be helped, they just want to sit in their corner and cradle their sorrows while pretending that life isn't worth anything, it's just time to pass. And that some people try too hard to make others happy, and they end up breaking their own hearts and burying their souls in a needless effort to be selfless and shining.
I understand that sometimes all a person needs is to know that they are loved. And sometimes it's
Blessed We Are The Children Of God I heard them fighting again. I wish they would stop. Why do they blame each other for my cancer? Why can't they be happy and love each other again? All I ever hear, is them argue or cry. My Grandpa visited today for my birthday. I told him I think it might be my last, but I'm worried about mommy and daddy when I go, I don't want them to get a divorce. He told me not to think like that. That Jesus can heal all things; my cancer and their marriage. He then gave me my present, I wasn't too surprised to see a bible but I was happy I did. Grandpa loves Jesus. Mommy and daddy did too, but not after we found out I have throat cancer. I miss going to church together every sunday; singing, worship, everything.
I'm already eight years old and for all I know I could die tomorrow. I keep wondering; will I see grandma in heaven? Grandpa says that heaven is a beautiful place and we don
Collige virgo rosas
“ It’s 4 in the morning and I wish I could be pressed against your chest, listening to your heartbeat instead of the rain. “
He could feel his heart stopping from time to time, finding its way to another living individual and scaring away from him. His mind was doubted by the will of existing and shades of gray encountered each part of it. The eyes that once witnessed the multicolored dawn are now pieces of cobwebs merely affected by the moments that are passing by. Was his life only a score played by a maniac pianist who was also manipulated by a mad puppet, so called the ‘fate’? As his fingertips barely touched the window, a powerful light enchanted in his eyes as the Tokyo Tower’s illuminating turned on next to his apartment. He wanted to look away but the strange brightness kept him captive for a short period of time like he was calculating the chances of wanting to pat that thing.
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