This was a triumph.
I’m making a note here: HUGE SUCCESS.
It’s hard to overstate my satisfaction.
Aperture Science
We do what we must
because we can.
For the good of all of us.
Except the ones who are dead.
But there’s no sense crying over every mistake.
You just keep on trying till you run out of cake.
And the Science gets done.
And you make a neat gun.
For the people who are still alive.
I’m not even angry.
I’m being so sincere right now.
Even though you broke my heart.
And killed me.
And tore me to pieces.
And threw every piece into a fire.
As they burned it hurt because I was so happy for you!
Now these points of data make a beautiful line.
And we’re out of beta.
We’re releasing on time.
So I’m GLaD. I got burned.
Think of all the things we learned
for the people who are still alive.
Go ahead and leave me.
I think I prefer to stay inside.
Maybe you’ll find someone else to help you.
Maybe Black Mesa
THAT WAS A JOKE.
HAHA. FAT CHANCE.
Anyway, this cake is great.
It’s so delicious and moist.
Look at me still talking
when there’s Science to do.
When I look out there, it makes me GLaD I’m not you.
I’ve experiments to run.
There is research to be done.
On the people who are still alive.
And believe me I am still alive.
I’m doing Science and I’m still alive.
I feel FANTASTIC and I’m still alive.
While you’re dying I’ll be still alive.
And when you’re dead I will be still alive.
STILL ALIVE
(ephemeral)
dis·hon·est
1. not honest; disposed to lie, cheat, or steal; not worthy of trust or belief
2. proceeding from or exhibiting lack of honesty; fraudulent
3. deceptive or fraudulent; disposed to cheat or defraud or deceive
4. characterized by lack of truth, honesty, or trustworthiness : unfair, deceptive
Don’t fuck with me or lie to my face, especially when: a) I’ve got proof from other sources – hard proof – that shows that you’re lying and b) I’ve got a witness that can prove that you’re either just a sadist and like to make people’s lives as miserable as possible or that you’re just incapable of telling the truth . . . or, in this case, probably both.
When you screw with me like this, to where not only my life is affected but the lives of others . . . to the point where you’re damaging my ability to work; to perform even the most minimal of tasks around the house because I might succumb to narcolepsy while, oh, cooking, and burn down the house; to the point where I’m afraid to drive unless absolutely necessary because I feel like I might pose a threat to others should – God forbid! – anything happen; to the point where I’ve scared the holy living fuck out of my husband a few times because of this . . . and it’s because of your negligence, dishonesty, and irresponsibility, you’d better be ready for what comes next.
To qoute Eminem:
"No more games, I’m a change what you call rage. Tear this mothafuckin’ roof off like two dogs caged. I was playin’ in the beginning, the mood all changed. I been chewed up and spit out and booed off stage. But I kept rhymin’ and stepwritin’ the next cypher. Best believe somebody’s payin’ the pied piper. All the pain inside amplified by the fact that I can’t get by with my nine to five and I can’t provide the right type of life for my family . . . This is my life."
Don’t. Fuck. With. Me.
(ephemeral)
this post is brought to you by small letters because it is not a happy post.
this post bears the "friends" tag. rather it should wear the tag "ex-friends", "betrayal", "backstabbing", or some other such thing as the tag "friends" is in and of itself a lie because this post is about those things . . . about someone who used to be a friend. and while i’m one of the most forgiving people you will ever meet and will give you chance after chance after chance after you’ve fucked me around and hurt me bad, this person gets something very few people have ever gotten from me: the axe.
i guess the era era ended between this person and i a long while before this. no, actually, it did end. but i guess i just found a nice, clean line of demarcation to simply walk away from it, to begin the silence that should have begun a long, long time ago.
so, without further ado, i bring you song lyrics that when and if you play the song itself – which i highly encourage you listen to it as it’s a great song – it embodies the emotions that washed over me when i stepped up to this line of demarcation.
the eels – "guest list"
album: "beautiful freak"
are you one of the beautiful people?
is my name on the list?
wanna be of the beautiful people . . .
wanna feel like i’m missed.
hey – you – with the walkie-talkie,
i know my clothes are not right.
i wish i had my own walkie-talkie
that reached to god every night.
everyone needs to be somebody.
everyone needs to find someone who cares.
but i don’t know if you know what i mean
‘cause i’m never on your list.
are you one of the beautiful people?
am i on the wrong track?
sometimes it feels like i’m made of eggshell
and it feels like i’m gonna crack.
everyone needs to be somebody.
everyone needs to find someone who cares.
but i don’t know if you know what i mean
‘cause i’m never on your list.
i’m never on your list.
(ephemeral)