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Role Play Profile
Current emotional status: Calm...
After I'm gone your earth will be free to live out its miserable span of existence, as one of my satellites, and that's how it's going to be...
Just hold on, the weight of the world will give you the strength to go....
All great things are simple,
And many can be expressed in single words:
Freedom, Justice, Honor, Duty, Mercy, Hope.
...Because I'm only a crack, in this castle of glass, hardly anything there for you to see...
Here our dreams aren't made, they're won.
I come to this magnificent house of worship tonight,
because my conscience leaves me no other choice.
A true revolution of values will lay hands on the world order and say of war
"This way of settling differences is not just."
This business of burning human beings with napalm,
of filling our nation's homes with orphans and widows,
of injecting poisonous drugs of hate into the veins of people nomally humane,
of sending men home from dark and bloody battlefields physically handicapped and psychologically deranged,
cannot be reconciled with wisdom, justice and love.
Beyond Vietnam: A Time to Break the Silence
Rev. Martin Luther King
Have you forgotten so easily? We are you. We are the madness that lurks within you all, begging to be free at every moment in your deepest animal mind. We are what you hide from in your beds every night. We are what you sedate into silence and paralysis when you go to the nocturnal haven where we cannot tread. -The Last Test Subject from The Russian Sleep Experiment.
God save us everyone will we burn inside the fires of a thousand suns for the sins of our hand, sins of our tongue, the sins of our fallen, the sins of our young?
So make some noise while you've got time, take this poison from your mind, who knows you may be gone by this time tomorrow. I don't know where we're going, but I take pride in not knowing, and you say I will be the one to let this go.
Yes I actually went through the whole intro for Battleblock Theater and manually typed out all this. Enjoy
Good evening boys and girls, ladies mmmm tk-tk and a-gentelmen. Turn the lights down low and shut your faces as I wrap you in a cozy blanket of a story. A story as heart-warming and soft as a mother's kiss. Or is it? Shhh Once upon a time there was a boat. Now this wasn't just any boat, children, it was a SHIP!! A ship full of friends!! Hundreds of friends!! Best friends one and all!! A veritable friendship it was!! Get it? But it wouldn't be very lady-like of me if I didn't mention the most note-worthy friend on board: Hatty Hattington Say hi to Hatty!! Hatty was like King Friend of Friendship Kingdom!! Best friend to one and all and the walking definition of a handsome gentleman!! Now one fine morning Hatty and pals set out for a new and exciting adventure!! What fantastic wonders would they discover this time?!? Perhaps they would come across a scary ghost ship!! Perhaps they would find an island made entirely of candy!! Perhaps they would meet a band of swash-buckling pirates!! And join forces to find an island made entirely of candy!! Who knew?!? But it didn't matter, as long as they were together!! There was smiles to be had and adventures to be shared!! Now today was a day 'twas a day like any other adventuring day!! Spirits were uncrushably high!! Everyone was singing and dancing and having a jolly time!! When suddenly the ocean was all like SURPRISE and a huge, massive storm brewed out of nowhere!! WAZCHOOOOO-WAZCHOO-WAZCHOOOOOMINIME BOY THAT WAS QUICK!! WAZCHOOO-ZCHOOO AND THERE WAS THUNDER!! BOOOM!!! AND THEN LIGHTNING!! BOOM!!! AND THE WIND!! WAZCHOOO-ZCHOO!! and like that it was over.... "Is everyone ok?" Said Haty,"I don't know what I would do if I lost even one of you!!" Hatty continued. But the eye of the storm is very misleading children. NEVER TURN YOUR BACK ON IT, BECAUSE THE OCEAN WAS ALL LIKE "PSYCH!!" AND IT CAME BACK EVEN BIGGER THIS TIME!! TWICE AS BIG!! WAZCHOOOO-ZCHOOO-ZCHOO!! AS IF POSEIDEN HIMSELF EXTENDED HIS HAND IN FRIENDSHIP AND THEY SPAT IN HIS MOUTH!! WAZCHOOOO-ZCHOO-BRBRB-ZCHOO-ZCHOO-ZCHO!! BOY HE WAS PI-!! HE WAS MAD!! WAZCHOOOOO-WAZCHOO-WAZCHO!! AND THE RAIN CAME DOWN LIKE A SHOWER OF BULLETS!! AHH-AHHH!! AND THE FLOOR BOARDS WERE BUCKLING AND CREAKING AND BREAKING AND PIECES OF THEIR SHIP WERE RAINING DOWN LIKE SHARDS OF BROKEN DREAMS!! AND THEN REGINALD COMES UPSTAIRS AND HES ALL LIKE, "I say gentelmen, I do believe we are in a quite a spot of bother!!" AND EVERYONE ELSE WAS LIKE "REALLY? WHAT TIPPED YOU OFF GENIUS?!?!" AND THEN HATTY WAS ALL LIKE "HEY BE NICE!!" WAZCHOOOOO-ZCHOO-ZCHO HUGE GIANT WAVES THRASHED THE BOAT TO AND THROUGH, THROUGH AND TO CARELESSLY SPRINKLING FRIEND AFTER FRIEND INTO THE COLD UNFORGIVING ABYSS OF THE DEEP DARK OCEAN AND EVERYONE WAS SCREAMING LIKE, "HELP ME!!" SPLASH!! SPLASH!! AND THERE WAS THIS HUGE WHALE LIKE WAHHHHOW!!!! AND MADE IT SUPER SCARY!! AND I THINK THERE WAS A SHARK!! WAZCHOOOOO-ZCHOO YEP THERE IT IS!! OH GOD!! WAZCHOOOOO-ZCHOO-ZCHOOLELELELE AND THEN HATTY WAS ALL LIKE, "HOLD ON TO YOUR BUTTS!! LAND HO!!!!!" AND BANG-BANG-BANG-SMASH!!! A SHIPWRECK AS FORETOLD OF THEIR FATEBOOKS OF..FATE!!! And while it seems like the end, this is merely the beginning of another fantastic journey for the the brave crew of the SS Friend...ship
When I was a kid, I used to think that pork chops and karate chops were the same thing, I thought they were both pork chops, and because my grandmother thought it was cute and because they were my favorite, she let me keep doing it. Not really a big deal. One day, before i had realized fat kids were not designed to climb trees, I fell out of a tree, and bruised the right side of my body. I didn't want to tell my grandmother about it because I was scared I would get in trouble for playing where I shouldn't have been. A few days later the gym teacher noticed the bruise and I got sent to the principle's office. From there I was sent to another small room with a really nice lady who asked me all kinds of questions about my life at home. I saw no reason to lie, as far as I was concerned life was pretty good. I told her whenever I'm sad my grandmother gives me karate chops. This led to a full scale investigation and I was removed from the house for 3 days till they finally decided to ask how I got the bruises. News of the silly little story began to spread through the school and I earned my first nickname: Pork Chop. To this day, I hate pork chops. I'm not the only kid who grew up this way. Surrounded by people who used to say that rhyme, about sticks and stones. As if broken bones hurt more than the names we were called, and we got called them all. So we grew up believing that no one would ever fall in love with us, that we'd be lonely forever. That we'd never meet someone who'd make us feel like the sun was something they built for us in their tool shed. So broken heart strings bled the blues as we try to empty ourselves so we would feel nothing. Don't tell me that hurts less than a broken bone. That an ingrown lie was something surgeons could cut away, but there was no way for it to metastasize in dust.
She was 8-years-old, our first day of grade 3 when she got called "ugly." We both got moved to the back of the class so that we would stop getting bombarded by spitballs, but the school halls were a battleground and we found ourselves outnumbered day after wretched day. We used to stay inside for recess because outside was worse. Outside we would have to rehearse running away or learn to stay still like statues giving up on who's over there, and in grade 5, they taped a sign to the front of her desk that read "Beware of Dog." To this day, despite a loving husband she doesn't think she's beautiful because of a birthmark that takes up a little less than half her face. Kids used to say she looks like a wrong answer that someone tried to erase but couldn't quite get the job done, and they will never understand that she is raising two kids whose definition of beauty begins with the word "Mom" because they see her heart before they see her skin because shes only always ever been amazing.
He was a broken branch, grafted onto a different family tree, adopted, not because his parents opted for a different destiny. He was 3 when he became a mixed drink of 1 part left alone and 2 parts tragedy. started therapy in 8th grade, had a personality made up of tests and pills, lived like the uphills were mountains and the downhills were cliffs for suicide. A tidal wave of antidepressants and an adolescence called popper, one part because of the pills, 99 parts because of the cruelty. He tried to kill himself in grade 10 when a kid who could still go home to mom and dad had the audacity to tell him "get over it." As if depression is something that could be remedied by any of the contents found in a first aid kit. To this day he is a stick of TNT lit from both ends. Could describe in detail the way the sky bends and before its about to fall, and despite an army of friends who call him an inspiration, he remains a conversation piece between people who can't understand sometimes being drug free has less to do with addiction, and more to do with sanity.
We weren't the only kids who grew up this way. To this day kids are still being called names. Classic is way stupid. We spaz. It seems like every school has an arsenal of names getting updated every year and if a kid breaks in a school and no one around chooses to hear it, do they make a sound? Are they just background noise soundtrack stuck on repeat and people say things like kids can be cruel. Every school is like a big top circus tent and the packing order ran from acrobats lion tamers, from clowns to carnies, all of these miles ahead of who we were, we were freaks. Lobster clawed boys and bearded ladies, oddities juggling depression and loneliness playing solitaire, spin the bottle, try to kiss the wounded parts of ourselves and heal, but at night, while the others slept, we kept trying to walk the tightrope, it was practice, and yes some of us fell, but I want to tell them that all of this is just a breath leftover when we finally decide to smash all the things of what we used to be, and if you can't see anything beautiful about yourself, get a better mirror. Look a little closer. Stare a little longer, because there is something inside you that made you keep trying despite what everyone told you to quit. You built a cast around your broken heart and you signed it yourself. You signed it: THEY WERE WRONG. because even if you didn't belong to a group or a clic. Maybe they decided to pick you last for basketball or everything. Maybe you brought bruises and broken teeth to show and tell but never told because how can you hold your ground when everyone around you wants to bury you beneath it. You have to believe that THEY WERE WRONG!!! They have to be wrong, why else would we still be here? We grew up learning to cheer on the underdog because we see ourselves in them. We stem from a rude plant in belief that we are not what we were called. We are not abandoned cars stalled out and sitting on some highway, and if in some way we are, don't worry, we only got out to walk and get gas. We are graduating members from the class of We Made It. Not the faded echoes of voices crying out names will never hurt me. Of course, they did, but our lives will only always ever continue to be a balancing act that has less to do with pain, and more to do with beauty.