I was chomping on a piece of god damn forsaken thin and ham-y sandwich, and after a while, looked at it, and realised I had bite it into a small replica of an underwear. That was so random.


I feel so bad when I don't smile at people I know. Because it's like ages ago since I've spoken to them, and the way people just treat me as if they don't know me, makes me think they don't remember me. And when they're gorgeous and dashing I just try to hide my face and not say 'HI'. I'm not socially out-there. I suck. I suck, okay? And when ANYONE waves (supposedly at me) I don't wave back unless I turn around to make sure it's me. It's so embarassing when the wave was meant for someone else. I feel like Peter Parker.

Labels: sad

All I actually knew about the pistol mounted up on the wall behind the teevee is that it's about 200 years old, English Pistol from the 18th Century. It didn't dawn upon me to study the inticate details. I only thought it was swirly.
And then I watched the extra footage from Dead Man's Chest about Jack Sparrow's pistol, and the weaponry guy showed the hidden face on the pistol. Oh so pirate-y. So I went to check, and touched it this time, and yes it indeed had a face. A lot of hidden faces actually. My little sister got so scared, she didn't want to touch it again.



Anyway, I finished something yesterday. This time, I'm so happy about it.


Gerard Butler by ~silenceana on deviantART

Labels: deviantart, pirates of the caribbean

I don't like my brother's girlfriend. She's fat and she looks evil. But I know it's not a nice thing to say about someone. And she's never talked to me before. At least Tiffi and Cat who were his previous sweethearts did.

It's disturbing. So so disturbing.

I don't have a crush on my brother because it's sick. I never said he was my brother, but he forced me to be his sister when he gave me the clover carebear. I haven't sent him anything in the last 2 years. I feel so guilty. And I'm going to make him feel guilty too, so I could get another present.



I can't believe the pirates of the caribbean trilogy has ended. It feels like ROTK all over again. They need a convention/exhibition. I'm a nerd. I'll always go.

And, Earl won Survivor. I am so happy, although I felt Yau-Man deserved the million dollars. It's like survivor africa baby, the guy I've liked from the very beginning wins at the end. And you know what, I'm going to call this survivor the 'handsome people' survivor. BOO was so good looking at reunion. The last few episodes before he got voted of, I was like, 'damn! I think I like this guy!' Alex was Gerry's twin, so naturally I liked him too. But Earl was the nice guy, he wasn't manipulative or arrogant, that's why I liked him from the first episode. Yau-man second, Alex third (and I couldn't like Edguardo because my sister didn't let me. Like she didn't let me like Ozzy or Yul in Cook's Islands. And it's so stupid, so whatever. Edguardo is so pretty.) and Rocky. Rocky is the ultimate contender. He makes me laugh all the time. And he was so so good looking at reunion. The black curly hair and trash talk. Oh my god, he should be a pirate.

Labels: pirates of the caribbean, random talk

You give me only one - only one answer.
What makes you awesome or why do you think you're awesome?

My answer:

I'm awesome because I created myself. God gave me a body, but I created the rest of it. I created my life based on the decisions I have made, and I created my personality. This person that speaks to you, may not even be real. I created everything. I created a smile, I created it all.

Now it's your turn.

Labels: random talk

I wrote my first movie review! Which is like so whatever and ghastly, but it's top ten so I'm happy for now.

http://www.helium.com/tm/353352/pirates-caribbean-worlds-heavy

I LOVE PIRATES OF THE CARIBBEAN 3 AT WORLD'S END AND I REALISED ORLANDO BLOOM IS HANDSOME, BUT MY HEART STILL LIES WITH JOHNNY DEPP. HE'S BRILLIANT AND INSANE.
I WILL WATCH IT AGAIN.

But I've decided that I probably will not marry a good scottish man. I'd like to marry a dirty pirate with smudgy eyeliner. Real men wear eyeliner. And I'm talking crap. And I'm going to have sex with my Jack Sparrow poster now.

Labels: johnny depp, movie, pirates of the caribbean

I found Batman Begins soundtrack. I've been wanting that since forever.

That's my fuel I tell you. The soundtrack pumps me up, and I always feel like going for a run. I also realised some of the scores from Dead Man's Chest sound similar. Same composer, haha, I guess it's his signature.

I'm ready to jog man. I need to be worthy to be Batman's wife.

Labels: batman, music, random talk

I wish now, that I had treated people better when I had the chance. I looked at my sister's yearbook, saw the juniors who're like president or something now, and ask her how they're doing. I saw the juniors that I somehow treated badly to, and felt my heart cry. I really really wish I had treated them better. Like this girl, who didn't look as cheerful and pink as she did the last time I saw her. She was known as this weirdo, and her skirt touched her socks and she had blisters all over her legs. No one liked her. My comm members discrimnated her just because she was too weird, and because of that, she never made it to the committee. She was always alone during breaks, she followed the people she liked, and we would talk about her behind our backs. She had a smile on her face all the time. Everytime. It creeped us out, but she smiled. We'd make her do a lot of duties, because we knew she would do it.

It was mean. Of all people, I should have known better.

My sister told me she's still alone now. I beg god to save her. I hope she's not sad. I hope the darkness never touch her. She was a good girl. She was.

Although when I try to see how I was back then, I did treat her better than the other girls did. But I feel sick to know that I was also mean, I did talk about her behind her back, I did mock her, I did look down on her. I was no better. I was a fucking dog, a scum of the earth. I was the bunch of girls that I have sworn to hate.

I don't want to be the blame if she suffers from low self-esteem. I don't want to be one of the girl she hates, because I did something mean to her. I should've respected her, I should've seen her as a human being who had value, and feelings. When she was alone and avoided, I should've gave her a hand. I should've smiled back when she smiled at me. Oh I should have done many things, and I shouldn't have done many things.



I am so sorry. I am so sorry. I was selfish, I was looking at myself thinking I was the victim of society. But so were you. So were you.
I saw how they were treating you, I saw how they avoided you. I'm so sorry I never did anything. I know you may not remember me now, and maybe I'll be known as 'one of the girls' who treated you so badly. I wish I could have treated you better. I was a scum. I'm so sorry, I'm so sorry. I hope you're okay now. I hope you'll be okay as long as you can. I hope you close your ears to the gossip. I don't ask for your forgiveness. I just want you to be okay. I'm so sorry. I'm so sorry. I wish I could go back, and be a better person, and made you a better person. I should've spoken for you. I am so sorry. I am so sorry. I'm so sorry.

:(

Labels: cruel, dirt

I hate being a happy person. It doesn't give me an ability to feel. It numbs my senses that I cannot sense empathy. It does not give me sight. It does not let me write.

I need to be incredibly depressed. Fast. Now.

Labels: depressing, writing

Yeah, yeah whatever. I have like a swollen gland/pimple in my ear which makes my earhole small that I can't put my earpiece inside. And I have school today, which sucks, because I don't like school, and I don't like accounting. I've realised I can't run away from class forever.

I actually stayed up to watch 'After Hours' which is so bleh. The Brazilian guy waxer was cute though. But it made me depressed because I'm so boring and blah blah blah, places like that don't exist in my life, even if it's Orchard. People have commitments to their other friends and stuff, and no one is committed to me, not even myself, so you know, whatever. Today I will be known as the 'house lady'. I don't know anything or go anywhere beyond the walls of this house. Besides, I hate people. What is the point in having a life anyway.

But. I am going to watch Pirates of The Carribean on Thursday, and I will not be alone. How smart am I.

I am a sucky friend. Right now, you will be nodding. Well if you talk to me about suicide and stuff I can probably help. But about relationships and love, like how Adam is asking me right now, well I suck. I don't love anyone, I have never loved anyone, because I'm a rock. I don't know the floating feeling and about sacrifice and stuff, because I am the most selfish person on the face of the earth as you can possibly imagine. I am so selfish, I will never give my heart to anyone. So yeah, I'm so mean and whatever, so it makes me so whatever. I can be your whatever friend you know. Just brush me off when you're whatever, and like me when you're whatever. Well for most part, people who have known me say I'm funny. I crack funny jokes all the time. I'm lame, which makes me hilarious, so people like me that way.

Most of all, I'm very smart, but not in the brainy kind of way.

But the most-est of all, I'm going to watch Pirates on Thursday, and I guess I've already said that.

Labels: random talk, whatever

I remember when I was a lot younger, I had such an obssession with tragedy and despair. I loved doing compositions, and I would write about horror and random things that would come about in the story, sometimes I would write about a man that ends up dying in the end, or a character that kills herself in the end. My stories usually doesn't have an ending. I loved cliff hangers. A man would be trapped in a place which he cannot escape as the monsters drew towards him, or a girl who has a shitty mother ended up just as she was.

I also recall how my teacher humiliated me in front of the class. She had poured a bucket of water on my burning fire. She said I was rubbish, and that my randomness made everything so ghastly. This horrible teacher trampled all over my self-esteem. She had no respect for me, obviously she preferred my friends over me. To her, I assumed, I was just this common girl who got lucky and ended up in the best class. I looked at her with spite, and I still hate her. She was like an exact replica of my parents.

Of course if I took her seriously, I wouldn't still be writing now. I would have succumbed to bad typing and speaking bad english. I like being a free man. That is why I like to write.

I guess you could say that I'm some kind of an 'artist', which I am not. I look at myself as an art enthusiast, and all I concentrate on is drawing people and faces. What I do is not creative. The truth is, art to me is just 'pretty'. I love art. I love colours. I also love control. My kind of 'art' is controlled. To draw a face is just to draw. As you do more, you get better in getting the right tones and controlled shading. How do you convey an expression? Through the subject's eyes. And I cannot do that. Somehow to me, everything ends up looking 'sad' or mysterious. I cannot convey happiness and love. It's just not something I do. My art is not creative. My art is control, concentration, dedication, black and white.

Writing is different. Writing lets me explore the depths of my soul. It's so cheesy, but it's not like I care. I dream of living by the sea, or in a forest, with moss or sand beneath my feet, and I would be a free man. I dream of answering to no one, and write as much and as passionately as I could possibly imagine. There were instances in my life, where I wanted to write something of great length, that it could be called a 'book'; but suddenly self-doubt came and engulfed me with questions about myself. 'Am I up for it? Do I have what it takes? Am I good enough?' That had put a stop to my dream completely.

I am shit at argumentative essays. I am always subjective, and I write with such ego that it's impossible for me to be wrong. I am not objective, which contributes to the reason why I have such a pessimistic nature. Which is also why I always turn to narrative writing. It allows me to be pessimistic and depressed; it allows me to discover what I can do; it allows me to be creative. Writing can be colourful and energetic - it needs no control of strokes or concentration.

I wish to be a free man.


But what a dream! What rubbish is emanating from my mouth! Oh, how could a fool speak of such insanity.

Labels: drawing, dreams, stupid obsessions, writing

Denny Duquette died on Grey's Anatomy. I can't believe it. I cried so much.

I can't believe I'm never going to see Jeffrey Dean Morgan on Grey's Anatomy again. I think Denny Dequette is just the kind of man I'd like to be with. And I think I am going to start watching Supernatural, since I need to see Jeffrey Dean Morgan again, and die happy. But I'm so scared of scary things.

Oh my god, Denny died. I think I'm going to cry again. My pathetic soul is listening to Chasing Cars and mourning.



--


I've always hoped for some kind of tragic romance to happen to me. Like maybe something like that comes around, and he has to die.

I am so fucking screwed. And a sadist towards myself.

Labels: depressing, sickly talk, smitten

I think the person who called 'menses', 'period' must have been a male or a woman who's never gone through puberty. I don't care about sinosoidal curves, and how a 'period' describes a span of time. 'Period' is PERIOD. A stop. Sure, having your period does put a stop to things.

But do you know what it should be called? MY GOD, have compassion young man, a period is a tough thing to go through. Sanitary pads are investments, and spills are lessons so that you'll remember to chanage. You know what's the worst thing? FUCKING CRAMPS! Oh my god, menstrual cramp is the worst pain to endure. Sheesh, it's not 'period'. More like a 'sentence.'

Yeah, I like that. I think I might use it. Hey guys, I'm having a sentence now! Watch me die of cramps! Wheee!






So yesterday, I had the worst 'womanly pains' ever. I was about to die and go home. But I had a practical, so I went to 7-eleven to get the pink pill. My god, the cashier was dashing. How embarassing. I put the pink box on the counter, he gave me the cutest smirk and put it nicely in a plastic bag. How considerate! I said thank you, and wished I had bought something else. Now my face drop already lah. Aiyoh! (my god, look, the singlish is coming out.)

My favourite thing now is the pink pill. I'm going to bring it everywhere with me. Because pink pill is good luck, and it makes your cramps go to sleep.

Now that I'm done, feel free to call me lame. I don't care. I am a fucking happy cramp-free person.

Labels: annoying, happy talk

You know the syrup cordial we keep in our dark cupboard?

Sheesh, it's like a tavern when you open the cap. There are huge big dark drunk ants lying all over. And when you say boo, it's like they spring to life walking in zig zags and stuff. Diabetic drunkards. They don't pay in the tavern, aye. It's good enough there's no fucking over the bottle rim. I wouldn't want to drink my syrup with ant semen juice in it.

Labels: annoying, random talk

I about to break. My brain has stopped working, and I'm forcing myself to type. I don't know engineering design. I don't know fucking materials. I can't fucking think. I'm just so sleepy and tired. I just want to sleep forever.

My life revolves around blowjobs and fucking wanking. What more do you want from me? I can't do work. I fucking can't. My brain can't take it anymore okay?

I don't do homework, I am always late for classes, I can't be fucked. So why do you give me such a responsibility to change my life?

My god, give me lots of glucose and something to overdose on.

I don't fucking care anymore.

Labels: depressing, sickly talk

I am happy. Do you know why? I am happy because I am in love. Do you know with who? With my new awesome BRAS. I am so happy. I have new bras now. Haha, love love bra. I love bra. I love my new bras. I always wear sport bras and the quantity of real womanly lacy bras are sparse. But I had a spree yesterday and I bought BRAS. And you know what's best? THEY ARE LACY AND PRETTY AND WOMANLY AND THEY MAKE ME HAPPY.
And do you know what else? I MOVED FROM A DOUBLE 'A' TO A 'B'! I am a B!!!! I am so happy. I can skip and die now. Falalalalalalala! I am a B! Finally.

I grew! I grew! I don't care about being 155cm. I grew! I have bigger boobs now!

I think I will buy some more. Haha I am the best.

I love PHYSICS and BRAS. My life revolves around cups and barometers. I am a happy happy girl.

Labels: happy talk, smitten, stupid obsessions

I know I get annoyed and pissed off a lot. I can't help it. I'm always obssessed over nitty gritty stuff. I think it's because I've been at home too much, it's grown onto me.

I don't like to be touched.

I certainly hate people touching my food with their barehands.

I hate rudeness. Like eating my food without permission.

I can't sleep knowing that the drawers are open. Drawers should always be closed. My sister like to keep the side table drawer open and I get so annoyed. I don't like open drawers.

I don't like open switches.

I wash my hands with soap all the time.

I don't like people who poo in school.

When I get the list of more annoying things, i'll give it to you. hahaha.

Labels: annoying

I hate it when people use their BARE HANDS TO CONTAMINATE MY FUCKING FOOD. I hate gluttony. I think people who are gluttonous should die. I hate it when people say they want to save money, so they get the cheapest KFC meal and then eat my cheesy fries without asking. I hate it when people eat my fries and touch my cheese. IT'S FUCKING DIRTY I TELL YOU! IT'S LIKE MAD PORN!

ARGHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH. I MAKES ME WANT TO CRY. IT MAKES ME WANT TO DIE. I HATE PEOPLE TOUCHING MY FOOD. It's disgusting and vile, and makes you look like a fucking asshole. Hey, I paid 2.15 for that! I don't get 300 bucks a month! I don't come from a rich family, I am not the only child.

WHY THE FUCK DID YOU EAT MY FRIES?!!!!!!!!!!!

It's not fair I tell you! I don't like to share with people who poo in school. Because they touch their buttocks and poo smells disgusting. And they don't wash their hands clean enough and they touch my fries, and then I would have to eat their poo. EEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWW!

I'm just so fucking pissed off man. I'm so fucking pissed off. That actually ruined my fucking mood for the fucking entire month. And all this because this shameless girl eats my fries without permission. And she ate, and she ate, and she ate! FUCKKKKKKKKKKKKKKKKKKKKKKKKKKKKKKKKKKKKKKK. TAK TAU MALU, BUDAK GILA MAKAN PORK AKU TAK TAHAN DIA TAK TAU MALU I THINK I FEEL LIKE CEKIK-ING DIER. DIE! DIE! DIE!

And it's like FUUCCCKKK, COME ON, AT LEAST TAKE ONE. DON'T TAKE THE WHOLE THING. DISGUSTING MAN. AND SHE LIKE TAKE THE FRIES AND RUB IT ALL OVER THE CHEESE AND SHE TOOK MY MAYO AND IT WAS DISGUSTING. IT'S SO INFURIATING TO EVEN TALK ABOUT IT. WAHLAO KURANG ASAM. AND SHE GOES, 'I LOVE FRIES!' PFFTTTTTTTTTTT.

BUY A DAMN FUCKING FRIES MAN. IF SHE ASKED, I WOULD'VE BEEN OKAY. BUT SHE LIKE DIDN'T, AND SHE PRACTICALLY ATE THE WHOLE THING, AND I HAVEN'T EVEN TOUCHED MY FRIES. DISGUSTING.DISGUSTING.DISGUSTING.DISGUSTING.
DISGUSTING.DISGUSTING.DISGUSTING.DISGUSTING.DISGUSTING.
DISGUSTING.DISGUSTING.DISGUSTING.DISGUSTING.DISGUSTING.
DISGUSTING.DISGUSTING.DISGUSTING.DISGUSTING.DISGUSTING.
DISGUSTING.DISGUSTING.DISGUSTING.DISGUSTING.DISGUSTING.
DISGUSTING.DISGUSTING.DISGUSTING.DISGUSTING.DISGUSTING.

AHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH.

My god, i need to fucking chill. i'm going to steal her fries when she buys them. fucking asshole. dah lah gemuk macam nak mampos.

Labels: annoying, cruel, depressing, dirt, fat, sickly talk, stupid obsessions

If there was one thing about yourself that you could be sorry for, what would it be?

I'm sorry that I am a picky eater. That I don't eat beef, mutton, or anything that isn't chicken. Even when it isn't a burger or chicken steak, I would only eat chicken if it was a wing part. And that I don't eat my greens or raw tomatoes. I feel sorry for myself for being a picky eater because I can't enjoy fine dining. At the fancy restaurant, the only thing I can eat is some dodgy pasta that I don't like, or chicken chop.


I am so stoned right now. So desperate. So needy. I just need to get 'okay' by tommorow so I don't feel like I'm falling into the train tracks. I took every single medicine that hasn't expired in the medicine box.

Great. Fucking great. I just recovered a week ago, then I get sick again. My immunity has reached fucking zero. I might as well have Aids. It's worrying. Because it might be dengue again. I survived dengue once. Next time I get it, I will die. Mother is afraid I might have Tuberculosis. Well because of the night sweats and the cough. I'm sure its nothing. Dengue just robbed me of my healthy life.

Just a few things that you probably don't know about me :

- I have frequent panic attacks.

- I have Depersonalization Disorder. It happens usually when there are a lot of people around me, and I get scared and stressed. Usually when this happens I try to tell the person I am with, but no one understands me. I say, 'I'm not real. I don't feel real.' And I tell them I'm dreaming, but no one believes me. I hate when this happens. That is why I avoid going out as much as I can, and avoiding people. It's a terrible thing.

- I am Schizotypal.

- I have Social Phobia. I almost never eat in public. And if you've noticed, I'm always telling you that people are looking at me.


Happy being scared of me. Now my ex-friend and you, know.

Labels: depressing, mental disorders, sickly talk

I am no longer a Spiderman 3 virgin.

In most parts of the film I was busy sympathising with all of the villians, because Spiderman was an asshole. Sandman was good. I love him.

I was sick, but I still got through the whole movie. Go me. Of course after this my mother wouldn't believe that I was actually sick because I managed to drag myself all the way to the theaters. I didn't go to school today.

Pirates 3 has got some impressive scores. I'm actually more excited to listen to the scores than watching the film.

Labels: sickly talk, spiderman

I believe that in my previous life I was a mermaid.
I am scared of deep water.

It is my dream to become a vampire.
I am afraid to sleep in a coffin.

I like blood.
I hate seeing graphic images.

I am passionate about weight loss and calories.
I am fat.

I am boring.
I am funny.

I believe in karma.
I am a bad bad person.

People somewhat see me as a puritan.
I like naked women and horny men.

Half of my wardrobe is pink.
I don't like pink.

I eat chocolate.
I hate chocolate.

In my previous life I flew. So I was a flying mermaid.
I'm afraid of heights.

I am a people potrait artist.
I hate people.

I like Orchard Road.
I hate crowds.

I like excitement.
It makes me vomit.

I don't know how to lie.
I lie all the time.



I don't believe in previous and afterlife.
But I'm sure I was a pretty damn hot sexy flying mermaid.

Labels: irony

Oh, please admit it.

I MAKE THE BEST LAYOUTS EVER. AND GERARD BUTLER IS THE BEST. AND I LOVE MYSELF TOO MUCH RIGHT NOW, I THINK I'M GOING TO WANK TO THE POINT OF NO RETURN.

HAHAHA.


Enjoy his beautiful eyes while it lasts.

Labels: gerard butler, layout

Man's idea of success is fame, glory, and recognition. We want to be appreciated and to be known, or else we go home as a loser, a total fucking zero. And I ask myself the same question again and again, 'What is it that I do that is not enough? Can they not see me? Can you not even say a single word like 'Beautiful' or two words like 'good job'?' Ultimately the reason why I still stick to traditional art because that is what I'm good at and what I really enjoy doing. What is it about pleasing people, hoping someday the least a friend could say is 'well done'? Oh, the twisted world we live in. I wish I could say I don't crave to be appreciated. I do a better job and work hard. I've seen works where the artist's perception is terrible, his/her art lacking emotion and they get a million comments and page views per day. It seems fair that the flaunting and promoting work were harder than the art itself.

But at the end of the day, when I'm done with something, whether the outcome was terrible or 'okay', I would give myself a pat on the back and thank myself for putting up with the hours of total hard work. However, that isn't success. Success isn't finishing a piece. Success is when people take time to look at it.

Speculations from close friends about my warped idea of success like every other man, is that, my parents never gave me praise or a pat on the back. Everything wasn't good enough. In turn, I turn into a fame crazy monster. My only objective in life is to be famous- be it notorious for something bad or recognised for something courageous.

This got me thinking. How self-consumed and lacking in gratitude have I become? Am I not one of 'them' now?

http://www.deviantart.com/deviation/54459293/

Such a beautiful picture, such a pretty face, such a happy child. There are people in the world who don't have means to eat three times a day. There are people who are just known as 'farmers', 'housewife', 'bride', and have been forgotten by the world. There are people who would be delighted with only corn served for dinner. And seeing that- a child with such innocence, and the life she had ever known is hardship, the dirt so natural on her pure face, has me weeping with grief. Because I know, in my lifetime battling with myself, I will never be as strong as that child will. I don't know what happiness is, in its purest form. I don't know how dirt on the cobblestones would make me smile. If I lived in poverty, I wouldn't even know how to smile.

So, success; is it fame, or is it being able to be happy for what we already have? So do we live like others, continue being mindless and vain? My heart aches with jealousy. I have things, though not much, but at least I have things. I have a talent, yet I wished to God that I wanted more.

Why does hardship give its receiver such beautiful smiles? How does one find happiness in the bleakest of terrains? You know what happiness is when god picks you from the raging sea and gives you a flower. Happiness in the truest and purest form exists in hope, light and courage to live through hardships. Success is passing though obstacles and be happy that you survived.

Success is being able to appreciate yourself. That is success in its truest form.

Labels: deviantart, drawing, success

Number of potential boyfriends = zero
Number of bestfriends = zero
Money left = zero
Progress = zero

Weight = infinity.

Happy factor = a million points.


Gerry Butler is positively sexy and beautiful. He is a man beast. I just had a Gerry spree yesterday and got more of his movies, and I just watched Timeline, but it was a little crap, and the actors and script were ghastly. But who would've taken that into account when Gerry is in it?

While Butler is unmarried and making movies, I'm a happy kitten.

James and Adam has also contributed to the million point happy factor.

But I've fallen ill again. It must've been the Gerry spree.

so, HOW DO YOU DO OLD MAN?

Labels: gerard butler

Human beings can be so cruel and disgusting. We have the same brains as the dolphin, and we can't last for a million years without destroying ourselves. 'Life Among Whales' opened my eyes to the evil doings of mankind, open my heart to anger and hate. I thought killing whales was put to a stop, but all it was, was 'silence', and different 'words' to disguise the killing. There was a scene where a whale was hauled into a ship, and they had a sign which wrote, 'We're taking measurement.' They proceeded to cutting the whale up, ripped out it's big heart, while it's blood gushed onto the deck like a red ocean wave. Another signboard, this time, 'We're taking tissue samples.' Fuck that.

Greenpeace were on a boat, interrupting a ship from capturing and killing an innocent whale. They jumped on deck, fought the guys, held onto the whale. And then the guys on deck threw the activists into the sea, killing them. Shows how much compassion we have towards our own species. We kill one of us, to kill another.

What have they done? They have done nothing to deserve this. They were here before us- the ocean their domain. They sing songs of sorrow, of death, or freedom, and all we do is avert our gaze and hearing, and kill them. People make up stupid reasons to kill whales, such as, 'They're eating our fish.' Your fish? Who are you man, who taught you such arrogance?

Like the Dr said, 'We're just another pretty face.' That's all we are. We know nothing they know of. We don't understand freedom and the vastness of the blue ocean. We came here and kill, that's all we do. And we succumb ourselves to such fear, that we make up stories of all that is untrue.

So what if we're man? We can only stand upright and play our games, destroying all that god's given to us. What makes us better? Nothing, but the lust for blood and dominance.

I don't think I'll look at eating fish the same way again. I don't want to eat fish, for I'll be funding the hands of the demon.

Labels: cruel