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sibelian
sibelian's Journal
sibelian's Journal
February 11, 2013
You know, instead of unrec.
I think we should have tomato-splats instead of hearts on everyday DU.
You know, instead of unrec.
February 7, 2013
WRONG, I TELL YOU.
How much more wrongness can I correct? How much time do you idiots think I have to spend on your incessant nonsense?? Hm?
Everywhere I look, more wrongness! It's as if the whole world has gone crazy! My fingers are raw and my is face is contorted into an immovable rictus of PAIN. Emotional PAIN, do you hear?
My poor boyfriend no longer recognises me. He has just physically restrained me from the keyboard,but I wrestled past him and
I'm exhausted. Have you no PITY?
I grind my teeth at night. My pillows are gnawed to ribbons! I have repetetive strain injury and I can no longer focus closer than 30 centimeters through staring at screens!!!
WRONGNESS EVERYWHERE!
I no longer eat. I barely sleep.
Friendly people ask me out to the pub, to the cinema, to the skating rink, to the park, to their houses, to the beach... I CANNOT ACCOMPANY THEM.
They plead, they cajole, they argue, they despair of me and then they finish their scene with a pithy comment on the fragile, slippery nature of TRUTH.
I can feel a camera tracking away from my back and Rod Serling's voice wafts vaguely over the living room...
"Sibelian. Just an ordinary man with an ordinary life... a life of assessments and critiques... of perspectives and meanings, of exchange and dialogue... a life of a man at last secure in the knowledge that if he acheived nothing else in his life... at least he was right..."
You are all on the Internet and you are all WRONG.
WRONG, I TELL YOU.
How much more wrongness can I correct? How much time do you idiots think I have to spend on your incessant nonsense?? Hm?
Everywhere I look, more wrongness! It's as if the whole world has gone crazy! My fingers are raw and my is face is contorted into an immovable rictus of PAIN. Emotional PAIN, do you hear?
My poor boyfriend no longer recognises me. He has just physically restrained me from the keyboard,but I wrestled past him and
I'm exhausted. Have you no PITY?
I grind my teeth at night. My pillows are gnawed to ribbons! I have repetetive strain injury and I can no longer focus closer than 30 centimeters through staring at screens!!!
WRONGNESS EVERYWHERE!
I no longer eat. I barely sleep.
Friendly people ask me out to the pub, to the cinema, to the skating rink, to the park, to their houses, to the beach... I CANNOT ACCOMPANY THEM.
They plead, they cajole, they argue, they despair of me and then they finish their scene with a pithy comment on the fragile, slippery nature of TRUTH.
I can feel a camera tracking away from my back and Rod Serling's voice wafts vaguely over the living room...
"Sibelian. Just an ordinary man with an ordinary life... a life of assessments and critiques... of perspectives and meanings, of exchange and dialogue... a life of a man at last secure in the knowledge that if he acheived nothing else in his life... at least he was right..."
Profile Information
Member since: Tue Sep 4, 2007, 07:36 AMNumber of posts: 7,804
