The "Freeola Customer Forum" forum, which includes Retro Game Reviews, has been archived and is now read-only. You cannot post here or create a new thread or review on this forum.
Tired eyes drive a lonely soul across a road that's paved with gold, yet the bitter light that burns so high won't let the road shine so brightly like we all know it could if it was given the chance.
And my road is just a path that many follow in dreams and heart before they settle back with lives of acceptance, all believing they don't deserve what they worked so hard for.
As my fingers glide across the keyboard, just gently entering words onto the screen as I think them in my mind, I begin to wonder if there's any more, if there's any more left to find.
Another pointless topic in a stream of thoughts from another pointless person. Another string of words that will be read of and then forgotten in an instant, just like everything we'll ever try to do. Until the golden day where we finally sort out everything we've ever dreamed to be.
And I still feel a thousand tears waiting to be shed, but stubbornly refusing to budge. There's nothing left on my mind, there's nothing to fear but the pointless little changes in life that are important to me, because they'll allow me to be myself, give me the step I so believe I deserve.
If I didn't have my imagination, I would have nothing, I would be nothing. I couldn't be loved, I could only love things that would help me escape from who I was.
But I have my imagination, and it makes me happy. It makes me grin, it makes me cry, it scares me. Sometimes I wish I could control it better, and sometimes I wish I didn't have it at all. Sometimes I wish I could let more people know about things I say, and sometimes I think of things so utterly amazing to me, I make myself laugh.
But it's not important to anyone but me. So why do I write about it? I don't know.
I just wanted to tell people how fantastically emotional my life has become. How finally, the thing that I've been waiting so long for has happened. I'm being affected by things. I've found things I care too much for, things I love, things I hate. Things I want, things I need, things I wish weren't here. Things I want to dream about, and things I don't need to dream about anymore.
And now I don't have to dream of things I want. So I dream instead of the things that make me sit and smile and wonder and cry and feel so alive.
You know how dreams sometimes shouldn't be made real, because things are always better than you imagine?
That's a load of crap.
And my road is just a path that many follow in dreams and heart before they settle back with lives of acceptance, all believing they don't deserve what they worked so hard for.
As my fingers glide across the keyboard, just gently entering words onto the screen as I think them in my mind, I begin to wonder if there's any more, if there's any more left to find.
Another pointless topic in a stream of thoughts from another pointless person. Another string of words that will be read of and then forgotten in an instant, just like everything we'll ever try to do. Until the golden day where we finally sort out everything we've ever dreamed to be.
And I still feel a thousand tears waiting to be shed, but stubbornly refusing to budge. There's nothing left on my mind, there's nothing to fear but the pointless little changes in life that are important to me, because they'll allow me to be myself, give me the step I so believe I deserve.
If I didn't have my imagination, I would have nothing, I would be nothing. I couldn't be loved, I could only love things that would help me escape from who I was.
But I have my imagination, and it makes me happy. It makes me grin, it makes me cry, it scares me. Sometimes I wish I could control it better, and sometimes I wish I didn't have it at all. Sometimes I wish I could let more people know about things I say, and sometimes I think of things so utterly amazing to me, I make myself laugh.
But it's not important to anyone but me. So why do I write about it? I don't know.
I just wanted to tell people how fantastically emotional my life has become. How finally, the thing that I've been waiting so long for has happened. I'm being affected by things. I've found things I care too much for, things I love, things I hate. Things I want, things I need, things I wish weren't here. Things I want to dream about, and things I don't need to dream about anymore.
And now I don't have to dream of things I want. So I dream instead of the things that make me sit and smile and wonder and cry and feel so alive.
You know how dreams sometimes shouldn't be made real, because things are always better than you imagine?
That's a load of crap.
I just realised that the last bit might look like a veiled dig at Grix, but it's actually an attack on my very own style of writing, which involves writing very long sentences.
Glad that's sorted.
Glad that's sorted.
Way to go Grix (for the title especially :-))
I'm at a halfway house.
I want to believe in love, in happiness and that true love is possible. But I've grown cynical. I used to think that I was a little glass boy, and that hurtful words and actions would shatter me, but cynicism hardened me and I changed for how long I s**till don't know.
You see whatever she thinks now, I loved her. And that should have redeemed everything that she thought was wrong, jus**tified it. But it didn't. And ins**tead of letting that hurt I jus**t shrugged my shoulders and moved on. Feeling empty.
So I'm confused and tired.
Happiness is realising who you are and not wishing you are someone else. Maybe it took someone breaking my heart to realise that it wasn't my fault - anything to do with the way I looked/sounded/thought - but jus**t because of something random. And hell sh*t happens.
I'll be happy as long as I can s**till think different thoughts and make up s**tories about people I see and write them down in long sentences that keep on using the word and and so continue at length for an extremely long time because man does that make me
deep.
:-)
I'm at a halfway house.
I want to believe in love, in happiness and that true love is possible. But I've grown cynical. I used to think that I was a little glass boy, and that hurtful words and actions would shatter me, but cynicism hardened me and I changed for how long I s**till don't know.
You see whatever she thinks now, I loved her. And that should have redeemed everything that she thought was wrong, jus**tified it. But it didn't. And ins**tead of letting that hurt I jus**t shrugged my shoulders and moved on. Feeling empty.
So I'm confused and tired.
Happiness is realising who you are and not wishing you are someone else. Maybe it took someone breaking my heart to realise that it wasn't my fault - anything to do with the way I looked/sounded/thought - but jus**t because of something random. And hell sh*t happens.
I'll be happy as long as I can s**till think different thoughts and make up s**tories about people I see and write them down in long sentences that keep on using the word and and so continue at length for an extremely long time because man does that make me
deep.
:-)
Katie? The MSN girl?
Stupid Grix posts echoeing own life right up to the name.
Stupid Grix posts echoeing own life right up to the name.
It did when I saw it in my head. :0) So ner.
Just a small point: cats don't gallop. They spring and sprint. :-)
And if all else fails, you can borrow her dress.
You big crying girly man.
Heh
Nice one mate.
You big crying girly man.
Heh
Nice one mate.
Vast Luckystar wrote:
"Sorry, I'm aimlessly wandering down a path irrelevant to the post."
Not at all, it's got a lot to do with it.
And shut up you ponce, I can cry if I want. :0D Yes it's a woman, and yes it's also because I'm following my dreams and working towards -properly finally- something I've wanted to do all my life that I can remember.
So therefore, I rules. Muha.
"Sorry, I'm aimlessly wandering down a path irrelevant to the post."
Not at all, it's got a lot to do with it.
And shut up you ponce, I can cry if I want. :0D Yes it's a woman, and yes it's also because I'm following my dreams and working towards -properly finally- something I've wanted to do all my life that I can remember.
So therefore, I rules. Muha.
My problem is I can't capture in words what my imagination dreams.
It flies so high, out of control, that my conscious thought processes can't keep up.
I open my mouth to speak it, I hold the pen to write it, only to discover that it's flown away.
Uncatchable ideas that refuse to find expression - it's like a curse.
My rainbows of glad ambition always seem to turn to dust.
I've yet to find a mode of expression that allows me to create what I imagine.
Sorry, I'm aimlessly wandering down a path irrelevant to the post.
It flies so high, out of control, that my conscious thought processes can't keep up.
I open my mouth to speak it, I hold the pen to write it, only to discover that it's flown away.
Uncatchable ideas that refuse to find expression - it's like a curse.
My rainbows of glad ambition always seem to turn to dust.
I've yet to find a mode of expression that allows me to create what I imagine.
Sorry, I'm aimlessly wandering down a path irrelevant to the post.
If it's a woman, I hope it's everything you want and it never turns sour.
No sarcasm at all, I genuinely mean it.
If it should ever turn facedown, then look back at this post and remember how you felt when you wrote it.
Because you'll get there again.
Except if you stay with this person forever, in which case I applaud you.
Just stop talking about crying you bloody nancy or you'll never score
:D
No sarcasm at all, I genuinely mean it.
If it should ever turn facedown, then look back at this post and remember how you felt when you wrote it.
Because you'll get there again.
Except if you stay with this person forever, in which case I applaud you.
Just stop talking about crying you bloody nancy or you'll never score
:D
Tired eyes drive a lonely soul across a road that's paved with gold, yet the bitter light that burns so high won't let the road shine so brightly like we all know it could if it was given the chance.
And my road is just a path that many follow in dreams and heart before they settle back with lives of acceptance, all believing they don't deserve what they worked so hard for.
As my fingers glide across the keyboard, just gently entering words onto the screen as I think them in my mind, I begin to wonder if there's any more, if there's any more left to find.
Another pointless topic in a stream of thoughts from another pointless person. Another string of words that will be read of and then forgotten in an instant, just like everything we'll ever try to do. Until the golden day where we finally sort out everything we've ever dreamed to be.
And I still feel a thousand tears waiting to be shed, but stubbornly refusing to budge. There's nothing left on my mind, there's nothing to fear but the pointless little changes in life that are important to me, because they'll allow me to be myself, give me the step I so believe I deserve.
If I didn't have my imagination, I would have nothing, I would be nothing. I couldn't be loved, I could only love things that would help me escape from who I was.
But I have my imagination, and it makes me happy. It makes me grin, it makes me cry, it scares me. Sometimes I wish I could control it better, and sometimes I wish I didn't have it at all. Sometimes I wish I could let more people know about things I say, and sometimes I think of things so utterly amazing to me, I make myself laugh.
But it's not important to anyone but me. So why do I write about it? I don't know.
I just wanted to tell people how fantastically emotional my life has become. How finally, the thing that I've been waiting so long for has happened. I'm being affected by things. I've found things I care too much for, things I love, things I hate. Things I want, things I need, things I wish weren't here. Things I want to dream about, and things I don't need to dream about anymore.
And now I don't have to dream of things I want. So I dream instead of the things that make me sit and smile and wonder and cry and feel so alive.
You know how dreams sometimes shouldn't be made real, because things are always better than you imagine?
That's a load of crap.
And my road is just a path that many follow in dreams and heart before they settle back with lives of acceptance, all believing they don't deserve what they worked so hard for.
As my fingers glide across the keyboard, just gently entering words onto the screen as I think them in my mind, I begin to wonder if there's any more, if there's any more left to find.
Another pointless topic in a stream of thoughts from another pointless person. Another string of words that will be read of and then forgotten in an instant, just like everything we'll ever try to do. Until the golden day where we finally sort out everything we've ever dreamed to be.
And I still feel a thousand tears waiting to be shed, but stubbornly refusing to budge. There's nothing left on my mind, there's nothing to fear but the pointless little changes in life that are important to me, because they'll allow me to be myself, give me the step I so believe I deserve.
If I didn't have my imagination, I would have nothing, I would be nothing. I couldn't be loved, I could only love things that would help me escape from who I was.
But I have my imagination, and it makes me happy. It makes me grin, it makes me cry, it scares me. Sometimes I wish I could control it better, and sometimes I wish I didn't have it at all. Sometimes I wish I could let more people know about things I say, and sometimes I think of things so utterly amazing to me, I make myself laugh.
But it's not important to anyone but me. So why do I write about it? I don't know.
I just wanted to tell people how fantastically emotional my life has become. How finally, the thing that I've been waiting so long for has happened. I'm being affected by things. I've found things I care too much for, things I love, things I hate. Things I want, things I need, things I wish weren't here. Things I want to dream about, and things I don't need to dream about anymore.
And now I don't have to dream of things I want. So I dream instead of the things that make me sit and smile and wonder and cry and feel so alive.
You know how dreams sometimes shouldn't be made real, because things are always better than you imagine?
That's a load of crap.