I am sorry for the previous post. It was a freak of nature that should never have left the comfort of my mind.
I shall leave it, as a lesson to be learned.
~Ashm.
Friday, April 23, 2010
Absence.
I want to explain what seems like an absence in my mind.
I have things I want to post, but they are (extremely) personal. Shit that I can't share. Which annoys me, cos it's good writing, if I do say so myself.
My writing has been making me depressed. Depressive writing. Sad writing. Awww.
I need to take a break. Ignore everything. Relax. Forget.
I don't see that happening.
See? Now even this has turned into something deeper than it was meant to be. FFS.
To lighten the mood, imma post something I wrote in maths. A story explaining the retarded-ness of the sine wave.
Occasionally, people's faces are silly. When this happens, the faces can say two things.
Use logic to decide between the fake and gay, or truth.
When your logic is hungry, choose the bigger lie.
To do this, take the smaller lie away from 180 degrees.
This leaves you with a very big lie (angle).
Hungry, anyone?
In hindsight, that's just retarded.
To continue this mostrosity of a post (reminds me of something Allie Brosh wrote not so long ago, but less funny. I couldn't hope to compare with Hyperbole and a Half.):
I wrote a rage not so long ago. It never got published, because, as I said, too personal ("It's too real, Roy!"). I'd just like to say, even though you probably have no idea what the hell I'm going on about, that most of the issues in that rage have been resolved.
I found a confidant with seemingly godlike powers. Suprisingly.
Thank'ee, confidant.
I get the strange feeling I'm using 'confidant' wrongly here. Meh, even though a Google search is but a click away, this computer's too slow for that shit. So imma just point out that confidant here means someone to confide to. But that sounds too serious. Hence, confidant. Like, confidaaant. Stress on the a, not the i. Not confiiidant. Like, a confidee. Or confider. I realise those are two different things. It makes sense in my head.
This post is getting kinda long, and pointless.
I have no inspiration. Like writer's block, but worse, cos it's more like general-life-living-block.
Anyway, to stop this being a depressive thing, I hereby name this to be officially named super-anti-depressive-sad-no-more-happy-general-awesome-blog. Otherwise known as Hyperbole and a Half.
I like Hyperbole and a Half alot.
I have things I want to post, but they are (extremely) personal. Shit that I can't share. Which annoys me, cos it's good writing, if I do say so myself.
My writing has been making me depressed. Depressive writing. Sad writing. Awww.
I need to take a break. Ignore everything. Relax. Forget.
I don't see that happening.
See? Now even this has turned into something deeper than it was meant to be. FFS.
To lighten the mood, imma post something I wrote in maths. A story explaining the retarded-ness of the sine wave.
Occasionally, people's faces are silly. When this happens, the faces can say two things.
Use logic to decide between the fake and gay, or truth.
When your logic is hungry, choose the bigger lie.
To do this, take the smaller lie away from 180 degrees.
This leaves you with a very big lie (angle).
Hungry, anyone?
In hindsight, that's just retarded.
To continue this mostrosity of a post (reminds me of something Allie Brosh wrote not so long ago, but less funny. I couldn't hope to compare with Hyperbole and a Half.):
I wrote a rage not so long ago. It never got published, because, as I said, too personal ("It's too real, Roy!"). I'd just like to say, even though you probably have no idea what the hell I'm going on about, that most of the issues in that rage have been resolved.
I found a confidant with seemingly godlike powers. Suprisingly.
Thank'ee, confidant.
I get the strange feeling I'm using 'confidant' wrongly here. Meh, even though a Google search is but a click away, this computer's too slow for that shit. So imma just point out that confidant here means someone to confide to. But that sounds too serious. Hence, confidant. Like, confidaaant. Stress on the a, not the i. Not confiiidant. Like, a confidee. Or confider. I realise those are two different things. It makes sense in my head.
This post is getting kinda long, and pointless.
I have no inspiration. Like writer's block, but worse, cos it's more like general-life-living-block.
Anyway, to stop this being a depressive thing, I hereby name this to be officially named super-anti-depressive-sad-no-more-happy-general-awesome-blog. Otherwise known as Hyperbole and a Half.
I like Hyperbole and a Half alot.
Sunday, April 18, 2010
Of Stubbornness
You stubborn creatures. His reluctance to let go is causing him more harm than letting go would. But, oh, the delight. There's nothing like the human skill of causing yourself intense pain to feed off.
This one is providing too much fun for suicide. He has so much more pain to cause, to himself and the ones he cares about.
So much sorrow unleashed.
But I won't have to wait much longer.
Ashm's about to break.
~Sialon
This one is providing too much fun for suicide. He has so much more pain to cause, to himself and the ones he cares about.
So much sorrow unleashed.
But I won't have to wait much longer.
Ashm's about to break.
~Sialon
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