Vicky

[size=1]O_o Aaaanyway, lol, my girlfriend dumped me on Wednesday. It was half mutual 'cause I was going to break up with her if she didn't stop being a cock(ney) in the next few days. At Christmas I was with this girl, just as sorta friends with kissing really, for a few months. Kate (my ex) came on the scene and got the my 'friend with benefit' so to speak (Jodie) and slept with her. Then a few weeks after, I was going out with Kate. The night before we broke up I was talking to Jodie; she still likes me and I think she's still really hot. So the reason I'm not arsed about breaking up with probably the best girlfriend (aside from her being an [i]arse[/i]) I've had? Is that I'm going for a night out with Jodie tomorrow ;). God I love being a teenager.[/size]

[size=1]I have a big blonde strip through my hair now and black sides (same length) but these are the most recent photos. [IMG]http://photos-b.ak.fbcdn.net/hphotos-ak-snc1/hs038.snc1/3315_1161088546047_1192824989_30463281_3760101_n.jpg[/IMG] [img]http://photos-b.ak.fbcdn.net/photos-ak-snc1/v2578/99/32/695717705/n695717705_1270897_7284731.jpg[/img] I still want to own my own pipe and smoke it.[/size]

[size=1]Not being religious I believe that life is yours to do what you want with and, therefore, the choice to take your own life is a sad choice but should be yours to make. Assisted suicide shouldn't be done by 'groups' in the article, but rather the by close friends or family. I don't think it's morally wrong to make a decision to end your own pain - it's [i]cruel[/i] to let someone continue in pain when they're going to [i]die[/i] soon anyway. How can you call that life? Asking to die is probably the last thing that person can do with their dignity and taking it away from them is no one's business. It's a sad thing and must be horrible but I only agree with it in the case of someone terminally ill, perhaps not mentally.[/size]

[size=1]So I guess I could have wrote something about what the hell this is about, but I'm not going to. I'm tired now and you can make of it what you want; we'll have different opinions, we'll see different things. But there you go. Not my best, but at least somewhere near there. [i]Somewhere[/i].[/size] [center][b]Breath. Smile.[/b][/center] [font=lucida sans][align=justify][I]I wish that I could paint the scene I see or draw, in words, the colours of the sky; create that exact, that quality of light, the silver pearl, opalescent edge to cloud as day slips slowly down behind the tree and casts in silhouette the scene close by. But of the words I know, not one can quite convey the dusk blue sky that’s shallow ploughed and furrowed through with dying day’s stark, cold, pale, winter sunlight, gleaming like white gold. I wish I…[/I] The last days of my life were tragic and strange. It was not my apartment; there was no undulating smoke around from my bad habit nor bookshelves piled from my amazing empire I had written and sold. There was no R.E.M. playing in the background, nor a computer screen in my face with the cursor blinking at me telling me I had left him on again and fallen asleep without finishing the paragraph I was adding to my creation. It was nothing like that when I woke up this time because I didn’t wake up truly; my only movements were a smile and a breath. My brother was in front of me with my mother, but not my father, because he had died. I had missed the funeral, they told me, because I was asleep. I had been like this for months and they never left my side, they said. They said I had brain damage and they asked me if I could understand. I could understand, but the reply… They never got one. I could hear them but I couldn’t move. My body had betrayed my, the words that I had mastered were still in my head and I knew if I would have woken that my nerves would be too slow to keep up with my writing, too weak to even move my fingers and dance like poetry prose… they knew it. I wanted to write them an SOS. I wanted to the write them a goodbye note. I wanted to write them [I]anything[/I], just for them… I couldn’t. And their faces, when they looked at me, was like pity for a paedophile; of sheer disgust and shame alongside my mother’s gaping mouth just dying to say ‘I’m sorry, son’. [I]I’m sorry too, mum.[/I] [center]*[/center] This is how it goes, now: We’re all on this bus. Everything is moving past so fast and it smells like death and terminally ill; some people are crying, some are laughing, some are sniffling into their shirts and others are grinning to enjoy the ride. Lights go by outside and the place is pulsing even though we’re all sitting still; the bus is breathing, alive. The walls and the lights outside are moving by too quickly for me to know where I am. It goes from light to dark in a matter of seconds; you can see the sun rise up from concrete messes and then fall with a plunge of bright orange dust behind the hills. Then the stars shine out to say hello and I put my palm flat against the cold window even though my nerves still feel slow and dead, to wave back to the stars, because I think if I shout – if I [I]could[/I] shout – they won’t hear me. My reflection in the window isn’t what I was used to. I still wear that hospital clothing and my frame is horrible – skinny and like a skeleton snaring - eyes in hollow holes, skin pale and that dark red hair was gone replaced with a gruesome scar in the shape of a bear’s bite. I try a smile but only one side moved and I didn’t understand why. The bus stops for a moment and opens its doors with a pneumatic [I]hiss[/I]. My head follows two men walking on with very gentle faces and gentle hands as they each tried to shake the driver’s frozen fingers but are declined. One of the men is wearing a dark black coat and a hat, his skin a soft mahogany shade almost and his face wrinkled but still so new and smiling. His friend, slightly lighter in his skin tone, doesn’t smile as much, and keeps these beautiful blue orbs focused on me when he sees me looking. They sit down in the seat in front of me and the bus continues to move. I sit there numb, I think, staring at the back of these two heads, at double dark hair and vaguely registering the movements outside, black and grey blurs with coloured lights dotted throughout the tunnels we’re now driving through instead of collecting people from the outside world. To where, I don’t know. And why? I could surely guess. Then the two men turn around almost at the same time. My eyes widen slightly and the darker man smiles at me – this large, yellow grin – whilst his friend simply breathes some terribly hot devilish breath on my face. I ask them, without moving my mouth because I cannot speak, where we were going. The Smile shakes his head and says he doesn’t know. And then I ask him why he was here. Well, obviously, he says, for the same reason you are. I blink and question him as to what that reason is. The Breath then joins in. He says it was because we’re dead. I know that. I stare at the Breath’s bright orbs and watch his lips twist into the slightest little grin. He extends this hand to me and it felt as if it wasn’t really there to my eyes, just like something floating out of the sleeve. I look at it and back up to him. What’s wrong? Nothing, I reply to him meekly, I just can’t. Paralysed. That was what the Smile says to me with his big saurian grin. You died without being able to move, he adds. I agree and tell him it’s true; I died as a vegetable. The two listen to me intently and soon enough I forgot I was on this raging insane bus journey to nowhere. The Smile looks and the Breath blows out life on my face with each word I slur to them. That’s terrible, the Smile admits, it really is. As the conversation grows deeper I told them what I used to do. I was a writer, I said, and I built an empire on what I had written and sold. I used to be Cockney Chris, a loud mouthed, obscene Londoner whose only depth was in his writing… and even that no one ever saw. I did it for entertainment, for money - I tell the Smile and Breath - I didn’t really do it to make myself happy. The Smile turns his head slightly to the side and asks me what I mean. I just shrug and say I don’t know. You achieved more than us two, the Breath starts with a sigh, we’re nothing. We ain’t got a thing to leave behind, he says. I smile and remind them both that, having died in a coma, I could barely move and was betrayed by my own body. I couldn’t even begin to build an empire in any kind of afterlife without my working fingers. Without the magic I abused and squeezed every bit of fortune out of. But your head, the Smile begins, still works. You still have it all up here, see? His large paws taps on my weak skull and my head falls back a little because I’m too weak to keep it straight against even the slightest wind. I look out of the window again, still faced with the tunnels flying past far too quickly for my eyes to register; I close my eyes and sigh. I’m glad, anyway. I only mumble that to them in shame. I can’t see their reactions but I hear the Breath sigh again and I feel in my instincts the Smile’s grin fade. They know what I mean; they know I am glad to be dead. Well, young lad, you can sell as much as you like. Everyone else can get lost because they haven’t got you; they [I]can’t[/I] buy your dignity. That was the Smile’s voice because it doesn’t feel hot. I open my eyes lazily to him and realise again how ill and old the bus smells. How it reminds me that I had never, ever, at any point in my life, imagined myself here. I never noticed how sad dying was as you watch the people weep, some smile, and jump onto the bus… a few extending their hands to the dead cold driver and nods to say ‘I’m ready’ and others collapsing until another weary passenger picks them up. I’m not used to any of this… They’ll have me soon, won’t they? I ask. Where d’you think we’re going? The Breath replies coldly. Heaven. Hell. Afterlife. I hear the Breath laugh - Well, probably - was all he said in return. Wherever we’re going it isn’t fair. None of us here got a chance to say good bye. Look at all the people on this bus; some look like they’re ready, but none of them look complete. The Smile still keeps that grin as he speaks the sentence upon his kind and smooth face; the bus rocks and his face moves with it. We’re all here now and we don’t know where we’re going. I mean, we could have had anythin’ in life, right? Not anymore. So if you had a final wish, what would it be? You never know, we might’a get it. The Breath’s voice was so different like a separate part of the Smile. I nod to him. The Smile tells us that his wish would be to have been able to make everyone he loved in his life happy. To make sure that they all knew they were loved, so when they died hopefully they wouldn’t end up in pieces on the bus like everyone else. The Breath, on the other hand, says he wanted to make everyone he disliked suffer, as a final courteous revenge. Like polar opposites of something, they were. The Smile prompts me: And you? I turn again to the window at the reflection that stares back hollow and dead to me. I realise that, like everyone else, I was missing something. Even if I was ready I still wasn’t complete. I search my head for some kind of good, full answer to his question but there was nothing. There was nothing in my eyes, no words, for every time I spoke no muscles around the mouth could move and my voice seemed only in my head. I didn’t even know how I was speaking to the two dark toned men. I search my eyes and let the first thing that came to mind be my voice. For the first time in the whole journey I open my mouth and the words, in a cracked voice but my voice none the less, came out in a fluent sentence that belongs to Cockney Chris, not an insecure fool in a body that had betrayed him. [I]I wish that I could paint the scene I see or draw, in words, the colours of the sky; create that exact, that quality of light, the silver pearl, opalescent edge to cloud as day slips slowly down behind the tree and casts in silhouette the scene close by. But of the words I know, not one can quite convey the dusk blue sky that’s shallow ploughed and furrowed through with dying day’s stark, cold, pale, winter sunlight, gleaming like white gold. I wish I didn’t linger and let myself die. I wish that I could show everyone how it feels to have the soft powder sand between your aching toes on a grand white beach of blue and white – to have all that in your imagination without ever really touching it – in words instead of Polaroids or phone shots. I wish I had one last story to write and I wish I could tell this to the rest of the world. Tell them how suddenly, when my voice came back, the corvine black tunnels outside faded into the bus and each soul was sucked right in. Wrinkled hands rose to the air and crippled legs stood up to face a final dessert. I wish I could make you understand why I thought their minds had been replaced by images of bougainvillea plants instead of the darkness because of the sheer joy that came over their faces showing true dignity and real empires for the new frontier. And nothing quite comes close, dear reader, to watching the darkness engulf the two people who talked to you through this journey. Nothing comes close to seeing that yellow set of teeth still before you when all around in dark, and the blue orbs of his friend still there too. There’s no words to quite describe what it feels like to be staring into the face of death… …and there are certainly no words to explain why I ‘m laughing and why I feel so alive.[/I][/font][/align]

[size=1]On my prom night I went in a white suit with a red shirt and my big massive mohawk. By massive I mean around 3-4 foot or somewhere around there. Went there with my friends and got snuck beer by my favourite teachers and had an awesome time. I was a bit drunk just before my prom so that wasn't good. It was awesome, though.[/size]

[quote name='Magus']Actually, I'm a bit curious now XD. I don't think even smoking or drinking would cause one to spell like that. (I wouldn't know. I've never done either one.) I do know that smoking causes you to see things though. (Or is it just smoking weed that does that?)[/QUOTE] [size=1]No that's just weed lol and maybe not even that. The inside of banana peal probably does the trick though if you want to see things from smoking =p[/size]

[quote name='Botar15'][COLOR="DarkGreen"] I was using 2, 65 pound, malnurished bums! No, actually my spelling just sucks. Went all the way through school sucking at spelling, but that mistake was just uncalled for. I don't know what I was doing!:box:[/COLOR][/QUOTE] [size=1]Haha I don't think we [i]want[/i] to know what you were doing.[/size]

[size=1]Smoke rollies. Everyone's happy! At least I am. If I have the money I buy real cigs. Marbolo Light or something, but otherwise I go for cheap rollies and they last a lot longer. The downside for awhile was I couldn't roll very quick but now it's easy and I actually prefer them. Also, tobacco is easier to rob from my dad or brother; they'll notice a few cigs missing, but a few cigs worth of Drum and they'll never know.[/size]

[size=1][center]Based on the TV Series. Note: Strong language, drug use, sex, all that bollocks. [YOUTUBE="Shameless"]361hqdT9yKY[/YOUTUBE] [b]Tickets this way to the Chatsworth Express! Come and watch pikeys making a mess, Of the lives they were given by Him upstairs! And kids, they're convinced, aren't actually theirs... What sounds on earth could EVER replace, Kids needing money? Or wives in yer face... 'Cause this, people reckon - and me included - Is why pubs and drugs were kindly invented To calm us all down and stop us going mental! These are Chatsworth estate's BASIC essentials! We're worth every penny for grinding your axes... You shit on our heads, but, you pay the taxes! Imagine Britain without Chatsworth buccaneers, Who'll cum on your face for the price of a beer... Make poverty history! Cheaper drugs now! Make poverty history! Cheaper drugs now! Heh heh heh heh... scatter! Partay![/b][/size] - [ ] - [size=1]So that's what I'm getting at. Shameless is a drama series played here in the UK, maybe the US, I don't know. But it's great. It's epic. People ask me "is that what Manchester is really like?" and I answer yes, because it's damn true. Now, my idea is not to simply rip off Shameless. My idea is to base something off it. If you're interested, post here. I might do original characters in an original setting. I might do an OB version of Shameless. I might do a crazy fantasy version with flying elves and evil Princesses. I don't know yet, but what you saw in the YouTube clip is what the RPG is going to be something like. Interested? Show it here. Cheaper drugs now![/size][/center]

[quote name='Sara'][size=1]How do you avoid something with a passion? Go out of your way pass it on the other side of the street? Punch it in the gut when it tries to say hello to you? Diss it in the locker room? At best, I avoid things passively.[/size][/QUOTE] [size=1]No I just make a big deal out of it when people go there. And kick empty McDonald's bags down the street.[/size]

[size=1]I do a lot of treadmill running. I have this awesome treadmill (my mum's) that lets you do all these programmes and shows you the distance, calories burned, time, your pulse... everything. So I do about fifty calories each time I'm on it (and if you're sprinting it takes about 10 minutes or so) and go on it a couple of times a day. I also do stomach crunches and lift encyclopedias in a thick bag because I don't have weights =). And I avoid fast food with a passion![/size]

[size=1]It's summer now, so I guess this counts as a summer job. I get paid to write! On my own accord and terms, mostly. Nothing big, nothing professional, but I already have fiddy quid (£50) and another seventy-five on the way at the end of the month and that's only for one project which hasn't even started properly yet. I found another little company that pays you 10p a word to write articles for them, which is good stuff. And I may have another gig helping some Media students write scripts for their short movies, which isn't too bad at all. I'm not really kick-started yet but I'm damn well getting there! And to think this all started with one silly advert I posted on a silly Manchester job site =). Now [i]that's[/i] what I call a summer job. Not bad for someone without college education or experience, haha.[/size]

[size=1]Miiiine is doooone. It just needs polishing a little more then I'll post it Wednesday. Unfortunately not earlier since I won't be here half the week.[/size]

[size=1]I don't do fast food anymore. My brother once got a burger from McDonalds and it was dripping with fat, literally. That was about three years ago and I won't go in McDonalds, Burger King or even KFC even when I'm trashed and starving. I hate it. To be fair I've never had bad service experience because if I go out for a meal either it's with my family and we go to posh places and they pay, or it's with my girlfriend who's a chef anyway so knows where to go. Pizza hut is good and Subway, though. Mostly because they're the victims of an old scam we used to pull. If you order your pizza from Pizza Hut (this doesn't work everywhere if they have gates on the back) and say you're leaving for a cigarette after awhile, don't come back. After about an hour you go round the back and your pizza should be thrown away, still in the box and all clean like, so you can get it for free. Doesn't work if you have to pay first though. And for Subway, you go in coughing your guts up and ask for a drink of water. They'll give you water in a Subway cup. Go out and throw the water away; go to the next Subway up the street and refill your cup with orange (free refills all day). Works sometimes, doesn't work always. That's why I only like Pizza Hut and Subway =).[/size]

[size=1]Periods are only great when they finish. [spoiler]'Cause sex after an entire week and none is just [i]great[/i].[/spoiler][/size]

[size=1]I once read some comedy horoscopes in a newspaper. Funny stuff, because the disclaimer was in tiny writing so I bet most people believed it. The only accurate horoscope I had in a 'paper was one regarding my girlfriend moving. Saying that all our spare time would be taken up by household tasks... the only difference was it was her place and not mine, lol. But I was quite surprised and I even showed it to my girlfriend who just shook her head at me.[/size]

[quote name='Shy'][size=1]I have been known to read manga featuring naked women and that doesn't make me [i]straight[/i], so therefore.... [/size][/QUOTE] [size=1]Aye. Exactly what I was thinking. Also, I go to straight bars. Going to gay bars for straight men is also very optional because a lot of [i]straight girls[/i] go there as well. Canal Street here isn't the gay capital of England anymore because a lot of straight people go there... why? Different atmosphere, maybe cheaper drinks, and for men there are girls there because they feel safer. That's what I got told, but it doesn't work anymore, since now a lot of straight men figured that out and come to the clubs anyway =p. But saying your boyfriend might be at a gay bar just to pick up the straight women who seem to have migrated to them shouldn't make matters any better eh...?[/size]

[size=1]Wasn't just Zeitgeist. Books are kind of handy too... books without [i]opinions =p.[/i] (edit: what I mean is history books, which is still a little biased probably but barely as much).[/size]

[size=1]I like eating rich people, that's the richest food you can get.[/size]

[size=1]Yes it was. 'Cause my friend's dad said so and he's clever and Christian anyway. Not in anyway trying to break down religion, but the majority of things in Christianity (and all of the four Abrahamic religions for that matter) come from ancient past times. Horus, an Egyptian God, was born in December, had 13 followers, was born of the virgin mother, performed miracles and was crucified, buried, and rose (then ascended) on the third day. Sound familiar? There are thousands of exact stories of hundreds of Gods and myths based around the same tale. It's very much based on stars. Like I said, people can believe in what they want. Just because there's evidence that Jesus and most holidays are simply patched together from older religions doesn't falsify anything; it's just great to use that when someone gets zealous and righteous on your arse about their lifestyle being flawless and yours being wrong.[/size]

[size=1]The Specials all the way. "You've done too much, much too young," was a silly catchphrase in my group of friends for a good few years which came about after a funny story for another time. I don't really listen to older Ska, mostly the punk influenced kind, for obvious reasons, lol. But definitely the Specials are my favourite.[/size]

[size=1]C'mon Mykul, I'm dying here =([/size]

[size=1]I have an excuse to not work at 6. I sprained my ankle rollerblading on my treadmill (running machine). Mass party this weekend at my house was hilarious in too many ways. Turns out I can fit in my washing machine and that crocodile curry is rank.[/size]

[size=1]I look forward to it and I so can't believe I'm in the final =D. May the best girl win Anomaly =).[/size]

[size=1]I'll shoot for it... because I'm bored in the Theatre at the mo', haha.[/size]