The "Freeola Customer Forum" forum, which includes Retro Game Reviews, has been archived and is now read-only.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.
Let me tell you about anger.
I don't mean that annoyed feeling where you get a bit moody and then say sorry. No.
I'm talking about the kind of anger your pretty little world cannot comprehend.
I'm talking about reaching the point where I don't want to hear your voice. I'm talking about thinking about you and going for the face before you realise I'm even there.
I'm talking about pouring flames down your throat and obliterating your insect face. That would make me very happy right now to come across you or someone like you and wait for one word.
Just one word and I'll rip your soul out and show it to you before I swallow it and destroy any remnants of your existence.
That kind of anger.
The kind that comes with being too eager to please, like a stupid dog returning to it's master after a kicking, cowering and hoping it won't happen again.
But all the while I'm looking-down and pretending to be remorseful? I'm thinking about what you would look like turned inside out.
Does that worry you?
It should.
Because you can keep flicking at me for only so long. It may not seem like much at the time, a constant drip-drip-drip of hateful words or thoughtless action that you think gets shrugged off and forgotten.
But every little transgression, every spiteful comment, every selfish temper-tantrum makes me want to kill you even more.
Seriously, you have no idea how close you are to witnessing a force so pure it would burn your eyes to catch even a glimpse of it.
So keep it up, you pallid watery sack of flesh.
Keep thinking that placid, laid-back little me "understands" and "sympathises".
I don't. Even if I wanted to, I cannot comprehend a world that would consider you being rendered a crime.
That's all that keeps me off you, the thought that nobody would understand and punish me for what is right.
They say that consequences dictate course of action.
Be blissfully unaware that only the thought of spending the rest of days locked up is the one single thing that allows you to continue on your quest for misery and pain of others.
You despicable, hateful puny mortals.
I'd like to cast you all into the sun and stretch out with a cigarette, knowing that you got exactly what you deserved.
Hmm? What was that?
Oh nothing, just a bad day. Don't worry about it.
It'll all be well tomorrow.
You'd better hope.
I don't mean that annoyed feeling where you get a bit moody and then say sorry. No.
I'm talking about the kind of anger your pretty little world cannot comprehend.
I'm talking about reaching the point where I don't want to hear your voice. I'm talking about thinking about you and going for the face before you realise I'm even there.
I'm talking about pouring flames down your throat and obliterating your insect face. That would make me very happy right now to come across you or someone like you and wait for one word.
Just one word and I'll rip your soul out and show it to you before I swallow it and destroy any remnants of your existence.
That kind of anger.
The kind that comes with being too eager to please, like a stupid dog returning to it's master after a kicking, cowering and hoping it won't happen again.
But all the while I'm looking-down and pretending to be remorseful? I'm thinking about what you would look like turned inside out.
Does that worry you?
It should.
Because you can keep flicking at me for only so long. It may not seem like much at the time, a constant drip-drip-drip of hateful words or thoughtless action that you think gets shrugged off and forgotten.
But every little transgression, every spiteful comment, every selfish temper-tantrum makes me want to kill you even more.
Seriously, you have no idea how close you are to witnessing a force so pure it would burn your eyes to catch even a glimpse of it.
So keep it up, you pallid watery sack of flesh.
Keep thinking that placid, laid-back little me "understands" and "sympathises".
I don't. Even if I wanted to, I cannot comprehend a world that would consider you being rendered a crime.
That's all that keeps me off you, the thought that nobody would understand and punish me for what is right.
They say that consequences dictate course of action.
Be blissfully unaware that only the thought of spending the rest of days locked up is the one single thing that allows you to continue on your quest for misery and pain of others.
You despicable, hateful puny mortals.
I'd like to cast you all into the sun and stretch out with a cigarette, knowing that you got exactly what you deserved.
Hmm? What was that?
Oh nothing, just a bad day. Don't worry about it.
It'll all be well tomorrow.
You'd better hope.
Nomad $oul wrote:
> A friend of mine is permantantly angry: when the traffic lights turn
> red when he's approaching; when a pen doesn't work he throws it across
> the room.
Smashes fist on desk! You talkin about me?
As for Goatboy's post, now that's what I call angry... and dangerous... and sheepishly moves away...
> A friend of mine is permantantly angry: when the traffic lights turn
> red when he's approaching; when a pen doesn't work he throws it across
> the room.
Smashes fist on desk! You talkin about me?
As for Goatboy's post, now that's what I call angry... and dangerous... and sheepishly moves away...
Brilliant.
Anger is an interesting thing. I'm one of those lucky(?) people who virtually never gets angry. In fact, I genuinely can't remember losing my temper. It's not that I skip around life blissfully happy, it's just that the red mist never descends. Maybe I've never been 'pushed' far enough.
A friend of mine is permantantly angry: when the traffic lights turn red when he's approaching; when a pen doesn't work he throws it across the room. Maybe it's a genetic thing....
Anger is an interesting thing. I'm one of those lucky(?) people who virtually never gets angry. In fact, I genuinely can't remember losing my temper. It's not that I skip around life blissfully happy, it's just that the red mist never descends. Maybe I've never been 'pushed' far enough.
A friend of mine is permantantly angry: when the traffic lights turn red when he's approaching; when a pen doesn't work he throws it across the room. Maybe it's a genetic thing....
Goatboy wrote:
> Writing out how you feel (minus cursing) is better than taking it out
> on people, in my opinion.
That's the beauty of places like this - gives you all the chance to vent without getting yourself putaway.
> I'm going for a smoke and to pray for nuclear holocuast by lunchtime.
That's still a couple of weeks away.
> Writing out how you feel (minus cursing) is better than taking it out
> on people, in my opinion.
That's the beauty of places like this - gives you all the chance to vent without getting yourself putaway.
> I'm going for a smoke and to pray for nuclear holocuast by lunchtime.
That's still a couple of weeks away.
*scratches head*
Yeah...pretty annoyed last night. Glad I wrote it out though otherwise that would be rolling around still inside.
Writing out how you feel (minus cursing) is better than taking it out on people, in my opinion.
I'm going for a smoke and to pray for nuclear holocuast by lunchtime.
Yeah...pretty annoyed last night. Glad I wrote it out though otherwise that would be rolling around still inside.
Writing out how you feel (minus cursing) is better than taking it out on people, in my opinion.
I'm going for a smoke and to pray for nuclear holocuast by lunchtime.
I see you had quite a good day yesterday Goaty.
Hope today goes ok for you !
Hope today goes ok for you !
Beautiful. My crazy little mind had that has some crazy speach some bloke would say in a film before he butchers some punk for double crossing him.
Anyway hope your anger has come down a few levels.
Anyway hope your anger has come down a few levels.
I live in a perpetual haze of seething, raging wrath.
I always find that stalking the streets dressed in an overcoat and cutting the degenerate prostitutes that pollute this fair land into steaks and offal is a good way of relieving anger and tension.
Err - I hope that helped get it (whatever it was) out of your system
Let me tell you about anger.
I don't mean that annoyed feeling where you get a bit moody and then say sorry. No.
I'm talking about the kind of anger your pretty little world cannot comprehend.
I'm talking about reaching the point where I don't want to hear your voice. I'm talking about thinking about you and going for the face before you realise I'm even there.
I'm talking about pouring flames down your throat and obliterating your insect face. That would make me very happy right now to come across you or someone like you and wait for one word.
Just one word and I'll rip your soul out and show it to you before I swallow it and destroy any remnants of your existence.
That kind of anger.
The kind that comes with being too eager to please, like a stupid dog returning to it's master after a kicking, cowering and hoping it won't happen again.
But all the while I'm looking-down and pretending to be remorseful? I'm thinking about what you would look like turned inside out.
Does that worry you?
It should.
Because you can keep flicking at me for only so long. It may not seem like much at the time, a constant drip-drip-drip of hateful words or thoughtless action that you think gets shrugged off and forgotten.
But every little transgression, every spiteful comment, every selfish temper-tantrum makes me want to kill you even more.
Seriously, you have no idea how close you are to witnessing a force so pure it would burn your eyes to catch even a glimpse of it.
So keep it up, you pallid watery sack of flesh.
Keep thinking that placid, laid-back little me "understands" and "sympathises".
I don't. Even if I wanted to, I cannot comprehend a world that would consider you being rendered a crime.
That's all that keeps me off you, the thought that nobody would understand and punish me for what is right.
They say that consequences dictate course of action.
Be blissfully unaware that only the thought of spending the rest of days locked up is the one single thing that allows you to continue on your quest for misery and pain of others.
You despicable, hateful puny mortals.
I'd like to cast you all into the sun and stretch out with a cigarette, knowing that you got exactly what you deserved.
Hmm? What was that?
Oh nothing, just a bad day. Don't worry about it.
It'll all be well tomorrow.
You'd better hope.
I don't mean that annoyed feeling where you get a bit moody and then say sorry. No.
I'm talking about the kind of anger your pretty little world cannot comprehend.
I'm talking about reaching the point where I don't want to hear your voice. I'm talking about thinking about you and going for the face before you realise I'm even there.
I'm talking about pouring flames down your throat and obliterating your insect face. That would make me very happy right now to come across you or someone like you and wait for one word.
Just one word and I'll rip your soul out and show it to you before I swallow it and destroy any remnants of your existence.
That kind of anger.
The kind that comes with being too eager to please, like a stupid dog returning to it's master after a kicking, cowering and hoping it won't happen again.
But all the while I'm looking-down and pretending to be remorseful? I'm thinking about what you would look like turned inside out.
Does that worry you?
It should.
Because you can keep flicking at me for only so long. It may not seem like much at the time, a constant drip-drip-drip of hateful words or thoughtless action that you think gets shrugged off and forgotten.
But every little transgression, every spiteful comment, every selfish temper-tantrum makes me want to kill you even more.
Seriously, you have no idea how close you are to witnessing a force so pure it would burn your eyes to catch even a glimpse of it.
So keep it up, you pallid watery sack of flesh.
Keep thinking that placid, laid-back little me "understands" and "sympathises".
I don't. Even if I wanted to, I cannot comprehend a world that would consider you being rendered a crime.
That's all that keeps me off you, the thought that nobody would understand and punish me for what is right.
They say that consequences dictate course of action.
Be blissfully unaware that only the thought of spending the rest of days locked up is the one single thing that allows you to continue on your quest for misery and pain of others.
You despicable, hateful puny mortals.
I'd like to cast you all into the sun and stretch out with a cigarette, knowing that you got exactly what you deserved.
Hmm? What was that?
Oh nothing, just a bad day. Don't worry about it.
It'll all be well tomorrow.
You'd better hope.