Mitch

Well, I won't be able to post much 'cause of school, but why not. Name:Gurthang Age:25 Home Planet:Earth Personality: A simple commando, Gurthang is a mellow, shy, quiet often very thoughtful person. Description: Long Black hair, always wears a trench coat which is black. Short Bio: Gurthang is not a violent person, but his parents died before he was even able to see them. The circumstances of their deaths are unknown, but Gurthang has placed his blame on this android army in his break of sanity. He know will stop at nothing to destroy the androids. He was recently placed in a mental institution, yet broke out. Hostile and unpredictable, he will stop at nothing to do what he thinks is right. And will sacrifice even himself in the process. Weapon: Broad Sword, edged with diamonds, passed onto him from his dad upon his death. Spells:Gurthang does not know any spells, but at his emotional will can use them

[color=red]...It all comes down to how high up you are, how popular you are. Although biased, this is the way almost everyone is from what I have seen, at my high school. If people make fun of me for being an indivdiual, good for them. Vegeta, just grin and bear the abuse and the tearing you feel in your heart, and eventually it will be gone and you [i]will[/i] be appreciated. Never give up always try 500%...At my school, I'm pretty much a loser. I have less than a handfull of friends and no one ever talks to me, if ever. I've learned to accept it knowing that someday things will be different, and people will notice me for the nice, loving, compassionate person I truely am. That is what has kept me from losing my focus upon what is true and what is trivial. Just see what I have seen and everything will mean something.[/color]

[color=red]Well, I finally got myself to get the album awhile ago. I really don't like [i]Reanimation[/i] it just doesn't pull of the greatness of [i]Hybrid Theory[/i]. The only really good remixes that bring me back to this album are Crawling, I really like the remix for it, and maybe Run Away...that's about all I really enjoyed from it. [i]Hybrid Theory[/i] is much better compared to this new album. I hope they start working on a seriously new record soon, because I can't wait to hear more great music from Linkin Park. And yes, My December [i]was[/i] a good song until I listened to until I almost went crazy with listening to it. It was a good song, but with all good songs, they eventually get old.[/color]

FoChanor I felt my feet touch the floor as I stepped into a stop between the door long I stood examining a room of short space a room so very small that upon the tip of my tongue I could taste the unroominess and inside that room was but a tiny chair it was a worn excuse of a chair but a chair it was and as my eyes flew away from that chair I began to see the room as a whole the floor was a dirty dirt of soot that was a black of blacks the walls were a crackled masterpiece of ancient tatter and as I stood unwillingly peering about my legs slowly began walking a sly walk of curiosity thirsting the dirt flung up in a dust flight as my feet touched the floor and as I neared that ancient chair a crash I heard behind quickly then I turned around finding that door to be closed alas the room was still in light for at the far edge of the room stood a flimsy light a lamp creating a mellow, restricted light and as I regained my moments lapse as I turned around I said: "Just the wind." I restarted my slow walk of thirst nearing upon the worn chair slowly I sat into the seat making nervous glances about the room and in that sudden instant the room expanded into a huge labyrinth quizzically I glanced around surprise upon my face in a bland splendor standing up I perceived a darkly lit hall and walked into that ghostly entrance peering about in a mysterious delight I padded about in my curious flight and whence I came to the end of the hall I came to yet another doorway standing between the door I did peer into another room once more and this one did seem the same as the last small and enclosed with yet another chair within the center and as I glanced upon that chair I saw that it was no longer a worn out chair but it looked of a newly furnished chair and thus I began a hypnotic walk as again the door behind me shut in a loud clang but still did I walk drawn unto that chair like a strongly placed magnet thus I sat into that welcoming chair and as suddenly as I there sat the room yet did change whence again and as everything rippled about in a watery puddle suddenly I was no longer in a room but I was upon a very high hill a hill so high that as I peered down all I saw was a great slope of meandering green yet still I sat upon that comfy chair for many a time not wanting to leave the wonderful security which it brought but as it became dark a coldness began to surround me an evil air of scattery stare and that chair no longer seemed secure so I gathered my wit and sat up in no longer a sit slowly I scaled that unending hill torture it was for my whole body to ill but still through I made it by some way of chance and as I neared the end dawn reared his starting glance sweating abound, I stopped for a quick stance and viewed that beautiful fireball there sparkling within the heavenly blue sky thus I ended my long ill trodden journey and as I stoop upon leveled ground I turned toward that hope holding light and spoke: "I hath made my journey." and thus I turned around and set my feet upon the so hard ground as I stepped into a stop between another door

[quote]Also try to stay with an image or analogy or allegory[/quote] [color=red] My poems already have very very [i]much[/i] allegory, image, and analogies, you also forgot similies and metaphors. I'm not mad, it's just that not everyone likes my writing style. I know it can be improved and it [i]is[/i] being improved. Yeh, you were kind of harsh. But sometimes you have to to get your point across. My writing style is hard for some to understand, heck, my parents don't even understand half of my work. So your opinion is taken but it will not stop me from writing. I've always had very well placed gift with writing and nothing will stop me. I hope to become a professional, that's if my writing style can keep improving. I've only began to write seriously, so my writing style has very much room for improvment. But I thank you nonetheless for your opinion.[/color]

[color=red]I was at school of course, where else would I be? But at first I wouldn't accept what was happening, and then I realized it was happening....but, you know what? I think they are kind of going overboards on this. I know the people that died deserved to be remembered, the firemen need to be seen as heroes. But, what are we going to do, look back in 50 years and still be talking about Sept. 11? I think we need to go on and become more united and more strong than the american spirit has ever been, and not dwell on the past. [/color]

[color=red]I'd rathe have 500 posts to get it, but I'm not the big cheese *looks at James*. Anyways, it isn't to big a deal anyways, I still love the boards and will always....so no big deal. Just keep up the good work on OB![/color]

[color=red]They hijackers killing themselves [i]was[/i] an honorable sacrifice in their eyes, but to us Americans, no it wasn't. That's what the fact is.[/color]

Everyone is sick of life sometime in their lives. Whether they think of suicide, I don't know. Suicide is like running away, there's always payback for it. My ever think of suicide, no, but I've sometimes thought very hard about why I'm here and why life is so hard....but not suicide. Suicide is to easy, if life weren't a challenge then it wouldn't be fun.

[color=red]Yes, they were Martyrs, by the definiton. But to us Americans, of course that isn't what we think. I'm right there along with those people, to. But it goes by me why someone can believe in something so very, very, much that they destroy themselves for it. Well, actually it doesn't go beside me, but I just can't see taking your life away when you had a [i]choice [/i] not to. In my English class we just finished reading Farenheit 451, a great book which kind of relates to this subject (in a way). In the book, firemen burn books because in the society it is wrong to have books, and the people are thoughtless and self-centered. I'm not going to explain the whole book, but in it people die because they believe in the knowledge of books, and so on. That is something I would maybe die for, knowledge, maybe. The reason why I said this is so you can kind of see the other side of killing for what you believe in. Although it may mean nothing to you, it means something to me. If you haven't read Farenheit 451, it's a great book. Well, that didn't make any sense but yeh...[/color]

It's good vegeta, but it could be very much improved. It seems to be lacking of decrption, I just can't see an image emerge in my mind. And with poetry, that's what you need to get (good description) to keep a reader interested and to make your poetry so much better. You need to write with the senses in it.

[color=red]Hmm....I got very bored. I wrote my first short story, err, started writing it....I'm only like 9 pages into at this time...also wrote more poetry of course, because writing is my life...started school. School is ok. Finished reading The Silmarillion, read On Writing by Stephen King, Carrie by Stepehn King, and am reading Nightmares and Dreamscapes at this time. I sure read alot I guess.. I've just been really bored. I just did whatever and found that I really love Otaku Boards more than I thought. But also I found that the people are what makes this such a wonderful board. Without the people that i'ver met here, I would become very sick of OB. [/color]

No Asphyxia, it is gone...I think. I can't find it. Might just be because they had to move the whole thing to a new server...oh well, and my story on it was just getting good :mad: .

How dare you say you hate school with all your soul. If it wasn't for school I wouldn't be typing this at this very moment, neither would you be able to. Although I get sick of school, it's nice to be back...and since I lost 30 pounds this summer, it's even better. And if it weren't for school, I wouldn't be an intellectual. And I wouldn't be able to write as well as I can. So, yeah I like school to an extent. Next semester I get to take Journalism, that should be good since I want to be a writer of some kind when I grow up. So school isn't that bad. And don't forget about the dances...and the prom I get to go to next year....and maybe get a girlfriend.....so school isn't bad at all. Just live with it.

well, I've got some more poems for you, hope you enjoy... Enxit The end is the exit the exit is the end the exit bends but it always comes to the end that's when you slip away get to finally escape lose your original shape throw off that plastic cape and leave it there for all to stare you only take one thing the thing that makes you whole your soul then you float where you lead stop when you heed then eventually, you leave go to someplace few can see and do what need the exit is only the beginning the beginning is the exit that is what you will see Despind a startled wind blows through my hair a stagnant breeze of melancholy despair it blows all around in a surrounding declare shouting out a whispered dream wilting away softly pronouncing my life's turn to nothing more and my anguish crushes in an endless sore as this wind whispers in my ear fearful dilemmas shot through for all to hear a heavy coat of weighted bear tattered illusionary marriages of reflectionary ripple the wind creates a catalystic reaction it blows on me, acting as a potent acid of needless uncare eating a filmy goop from my skin going deep within in a sizzling fry of mental oils dissipating what was left to stand leaving me a standing, ragged figure a boneless image looking inside for myself through my wind-swept mind as I traverse through sections of irrelevant garbled images of distance I stand by a reflection of me a subvisible shadowy tree with branches extended in bewildering paths of endless fashions this by I do stand, gazing deep in a hopeful-eyed gaze of instigation viewing crumpled projections of pessimistic optimism looking inside the inside of my deeply rooted pores and the sad wind does still blow by in its opinionated despair whispering, in my ear, a reciteful destruction packaged abound Paper Ball I crumpled myself into a paper ball threw it as hard as I could against the wall tried to see something else in me I haven't seen crumpled all my will to see more than is compacted my concentration into a mess of thought yet all that that paper ball did all it did was bounce back propelled me even further down uncurled I stared at an empty white torn and tattered with a furled slash of imperfect interior and tried as I did stare as hard as I could torn and tattered, imperfect in the interior the whiteness remained staring back at me in an empty gape of incessant emptiness and as much as I tried to smooth it still the faults remained cynically reflecting back at me and, realization did then come to my eyes as I stared into that glassy mirror realization that I will always be fractured inside imperfect in another way as well as another always will I be numb always will I have broken lines and in spread cries no matter how hard I try I'm Here I'm here even if you pass my goodwill on by I'm here a shiny steadily glowing star just waiting patience is my virtue as I stand and view and I'm here a ghost to you, something more to those who try to see me my appearance might be lacking I might be a shy of the bunch but, oh man, I'm here can't you hear my cry deeply welled inside of my eyes? one good turn encounters unto another turn the lever won't you please? or are you blind because I'm different well, at least it seems? but, you know what? yeah, I'm here I'm here I saw your eyes go on by my face admit it, wouldn't you please? or did my glance accost you in another direction? because, you know I'm here and I'm gonna stay even if I may seem small man, I've got it all well, at least some of it because, you know what? yup, that's right I'm here standing right here the one right there see me? got the view of me? 'cause, even if you're somewhere else I'll always be standing here smilling a welcoming gift into my hands just waiting on an idle because don'cha know I'm here Ill Guilt a piercing cry pronounced bursting out in sudden proclaim all its hate and pain that cry became a twisted creature of evil decibels expanding about in echoing disclaim the cry shot out through the night to my devious delight shouted out plainly to sight it was and as I hear it now my fear I can feel inside, festering and all my mind did say is to run away run as fast as I can thus on I ran fearing then what is done guilt there is in my soul for what I did that grim day and no matter what do they say for my life forever I afraid will I be and always will I run away and that cry I hear it now that cry, it is etched inside replaying ever on like a torturous melody but the deed I have already done my hands have been stained and nothing did I gain Vengeance? no, only in my eye of uncouth rage Pleasure? nevermore, all I see is pain insane I have gone insane and they hath come at last the ones whom will claim me the restrainers, the ones who are a knocking upon my very door and now I see as they open the door them wrapping chains around my arms as I write this as I can evermore I blindfold they have placed, no longer is vision a hostility struggle I do all I can but still away they take my writing hand someone someday will see this that I hath writ and struggle as much as I can will stay here and sit and my hand pain thus away they take me This is one of my weird poems, but it sounds cool. It sounds kind of like something Edgar Allen Poe would've wrote... I have so many more to type up...I'll type 'em when I feel more like it...any comments would be good also...

[color=red]Don't laugh at me if this isn't any good, because it's only my first short story...but give me an honest opinion if it's even any good at all...[/color] Jane's Coma (Tentative)(First Draft) -1- The Psychologist Jane let out a heavy sigh. Her mind was a nervous splatter as she walked in to go and see the psychologist. This was her first time going, and she was unsure what it would be like. She timidly walked to the waiting room and sat down. She grabbed a magazine and paged through it, trying to keep her mind off of the psychologist. After what seemed like forever to Jane, they finally called her name. She slowly stood up and walked to the room. She apprehensively grabbed the doorknob and twisted it, opening the door. She slowly shuffled in and sat down. The psychologist glared at her kindly. "Welcome Jane, my name?s Dr. Baros," he said holding out his hand. She gave him a fake smile and took his hand, shaking it. "Nice to meet you." He pulled out a pen and small pad of paper, and scribbled something on it. He turned to Jane, looking straight at her. "Shall we begin, then?" Jane nervously nodded her head. "First we?ll talk about your past." "Where were you born?" Jane quickly began speaking "I was born here, in Linstone," she said. Baros continued. "What were your parents like?" "My Dad was an alcoholic, he died from colon cancer when I was three." "My Mom died when I was seven, she was also an alcoholic." "She committed suicide," Jane said. Dr. Baros jotted more on his pad of paper. "Who did you live with after your Mom and Dad died,? the doctor asked. Jane?s eyes seemed burdened with pain, but she continued. "After they died, I moved in with my Aunt and Uncle." "My Aunt was an alcoholic, but not as bad as my parents." "I lived with them until I was eighteen". The doctor jotted more, then popped the next question. "What did you do when you moved out?" he asked. "I got married." "Married to my first husband." "He was an alcoholic to, I thought I could change him." "But I was wrong," she said, ?Very wrong.? She paused, then continued, "He died of Alcohol Poisoning after we had been married for only three years." "We had my daughter, Eva." She grabbed the cup of water next to her and took a long sip. Then sat it gently back down, speaking again. "Then I married my husband that I have now about a year ago." Dr. Baros scribbled more, then tore off the sheet of paper he had been writing on and set it on his desk. "Mrs. Staw, that will be all for today." "See you tomorrow,? he said shaking hands with her again. In her mind, Jane let out a sigh of relief and stood up and walked out of the room, and quickly drove home. -2- Just Drive On her drive home, Jane?s mind was lost in deep thought. She was thinking about many things. About why everyone she grew close to seemed to die. It was like she was cursed. Her whole life she had been surrounded by drugs. Everyone she?d known, almost every single one of them was doing drugs or had done drugs. It sure was strange. She had tried to even change some of these people, change their slow decline to death, save them a life. But always, it seemed, she failed, one way or another. Either they died, or they became lost so much she just gave up. She herself had mostly stayed away from drugs, not wanting to ruin her life. About the only drug she would ever take was alcohol, and that was rarely if never. Only when life had gone rock bottom, and she needed a break would she drink. Her husband, John, was yet another alcoholic. She didn?t know why, but she seemed attracted to people like John for some odd reason. John was a good husband, no doubt about it, Jane had assured herself of that much. Except for when he was drunk that was, and that was most of the time. Heck, all of the time. She had told him he needed help. He needed to see his problem face to face. He needed to go to AAA. But of course, he didn?t listen. Of course not. He never seemed to listen to her anymore. All he had done was nodded his head nonchalantly like he always did when he was ignoring her. Up and down, up and down. She was really getting sick of it. Jane still loved him. Only now, it seemed unconditional, just a hole she had to bear. But still deep in her mind, she still thought she could change him. Make him that perfect husband she had always imagined when she was younger. The loving and caring husband who?d drop everything every moment she called. Who?d give arm and limb just for a kiss. But realization she could feel. She knew she probably wouldn?t be able to change him at least for the better. But she could try. And she would. When they had first married, he would sit around almost all day and drink. So she had decided he couldn?t have any beer in the house and didn?t allow him to drink in the house. She had told him she didn?t want her daughter to have to live growing up the way she had to. Still, almost everyday after his job as a barber, he would go out to the bar and drink to high heaven with his old High School chums from way back when. Jane of course didn?t like him always being gone almost the whole day, coming home drunk, breathing his alcohol breath on her cheeks. But she had come to live with it. But what she couldn?t accept, and never would was the abuse. The constant, daily abuse. The abuse every night when he came home from drinking. Every night, the constant, unceasing abuse. Sexual abuse, verbal, physical, you name it, John had done it. She had bruises all over her body, black blue bruises. She didn?t know how long she would be able to handle it for the sake of Eva. She just didn?t know. She would hold on as long as her grasp remained. As long as Eva didn?t have to be abused, she was sure she could hold on until something else happened. God only knew how it would end. So she had started seeing Dr. Baros today. She thought it would be a good way to get a firmer grip to hold on. And she seemed to be right. Well, that's all I've typed up for now, expect some more later...

[color=red]Again, good choice of words. I like the feeling I get of it being just raw emotion. Keep up the good work Phantom![/color]

[size=1]This is a poem I wrote a while ago. Not my best but it's ok.[/size] [color=red][i]Memories My memories they float away scatter about like individual shards of glass torn and shattered never to be whole they float away never to be seen again lost forever they leave my train of thought not needed any longer they float away giving me a half smile gaze looking back at me becoming farther away I see all those shards seeing each singular memory remembering all those things from the past and wanting never to look on those different shards they float away and I turn my back realizing they mean nothing loosing my grasp on them they slip away from my heavy hold they scatter away a lost memento of my life torn and ripped images of me scattered about for all to see[/i][/color]

[color=red][i]Droplets A droplet of water falls off my face falling onto the floor doing nothing more than leave a splash this is the way I feel at times hopeless and misunderstood leaving little impact upon my highs the floor seems to be very dry and as more droplets accumulate they only quickly dissipate becoming but a trail of dust a smoten valley of metallic rust obstructing me of what I've truly done my only choice is to run escape myself in a shadowy smoke of confusion and a steady act of dispersion I'm cheating myself from my own spoils taking the easiest route If only I could realize see the things I've done understand what I've become loosen myself up some but all I can see is the water evaporate In my rushing escape[/color][/i] [size=1]yesterday I had writers block, but I've told myself I [b]have[/b] to get a poem out, at least one. So this one isn't very good.... [/size] Comments?

[color=red]Good job yet again. Keep writing![/color]

[color=red]If this movie's better than Signs I would see it. But that isn't going to happen now is it :nono:? All it looks like to me is a modern version of James Bond. Although this sounds inventive, I doubt that it will be. Mindless action movies just aren't my style. It has to have more of a plot than [i]good guy saves the world from bad guy[/i]. So no I am very so not going to see this movie.[/color]

[color=red] Yes there are aliens I am certain. The universe has to have an end, there has to be other life on other planets. I think that there has been life before us on different planets, take mars for example, it's a red ball of dust, due to someone draining it of all it's resources. That is what we are doing to this planet.[/color]

[color=red]I don't really have any great friends. I don't know if I ever will. Sure I have friends, but most of them are social outcasts that sit on their computers all day (oh wait, isn't that me?), anyways, never trust a friend completly until you are [i]certain[/i] they are a true friend. Most friends just stab you in the back anyways...[/color]

[color=red]A movie is like a piece of artwork. And thus, I do not think it should be given a rating. If a little kid goes to a movie with their parents with lots of swearing, it's the parents fault. Also I don't see why video games have to have a rating system, pretty much all the good games out there are Mature...guess I'll just have to wait until I'm 17![/color]

[color=red]The song of which you are talking of I think is called "Barenaked", and my opinion on this is as follows. I hate her, she can't act worth a bagel, and her singing is like listening to a croaking frog on steriods. Thus ends my opinion.[/color]