Merry Christmas.

brb fiji

Glimpse

Rumpled sheets and body heat,
smooth skin and silk.
Fulfillment in flesh and flame,
within you.
White-hot need,
within me.
I am drunk with desire, desperate with it.
Hand down your spine, grip in my hair.
Contact, lips locked in a twisted smile.
Yours.
Mine.
Possession and surrender in a blurred union.
Do you feel the resonance, the harmony?
Our heartbeats as one, our fires as one,
our lust,
our desires,
as one.
One.
Whole.
Pressure and power and in that white-hot moment,
something more, greater than the sum
of us,
the parts.
Bliss, in that glimpse.
Come.
We have walked in the shadow too long,
Let our bodies lead us to the light,
Our union guiding the way,
to the moment when we will be strangers no more,
walking the path to the glimpse,
as one.
Fulfillment in flesh and flame,
White-hot need,
Locked lips and passionate hearts,
and bliss, in the glimpse.
Our bodies guiding the way.
There is nothing to fear.

For I am you, and we are not afraid.

Physical Abuse and Side-Effects

I got physically assaulted this evening by representatives of a society that is making every attempt to annihilate me off the face of this planet for my sexual orientation, and am sitting here hating myself for falling for heterosexuals and coming to the conclusion that I am never going to find someone to be happy with.
So I'm going to deconstruct these feelings in this blog post and thus feel better about them.

Kind of silly, really. We were down at a big park and one of them recognised me from high school. Did the whole "Oh no, get away from me" spiel. Like I was contagious. Ignored him, walked past. Saw his shadow loom up behind me. Didn't bother retaliating, just felt sad about the whole thing. I knew what was coming, and sure enough, I ended up having a fist swung into my gut. Knocked the air clean out of me. Didn't feel angry at all, only sad. And winded, of course.
Now, to deconstruct my original thought trail.

These people do not represent your society.
Hell, everyone in the group was prepared to kick the living shit out of them in retaliation. Lay actually went haring off after the guy as soon as she noticed I was on the ground. Ben had his knife out, for godsakes. For every person that wants to kick you until you pass out, there is one who will defend you to the death. Do try and remember that before you think that the entire society you live in is represented by these cretins.

Society is not out to get you.
Compared to how your kind (god, like I'm a species) has been treated in days past, you have it easy. You have no right to complain of injustice. You probably shouldn't have been in the area anyway, despite the fact that you live in suburban Canberra. The simple fact is, there are some people around which you are not safe, but you shouldn't feel in danger if you're sensible about it - and most of the time you don't, do you?

You can't help how you feel.
You're usually pretty good about this whole thing - feelings for those who will never return them is a fact of life, not just of homosexuality, and you've had to deal with your fair share - but it is ludicrous to hold yourself responsible for falling for people who won't fall for you. It isn't something you can control, and that one time you tried to, it ended badly. Let it go.

You are happy with people now - being in a relationship wouldn't alter that.
Yeah, I know what you meant. You want someone to love and hold and 'be with'. I get that. But you're with people - many, many people - who make you happy every day. You need to remember and appreciate that more. Just because you're not romantically entangled does not mean you're alone.

Right, I feel better! Now to make me a sandwich!

Death and the Philosopher

I have just discovered Stumbleupon and am going to have to resist posting a billion, billion things from the site on this blog. But I have to share this one.

When Death met the philosopher, the philosopher said, rather excitedly: "At this point, you realise, I'm both dead and not dead."

There was a sigh from Death. Oh dear, one of those, he thought. This is going to be about quantum again. He hated dealing with philosophers. They always tried to wriggle out of it.

"You see," said the philosopher, while Death, motionless, watched the sands of his life drain through the hourglass, "everything is made of tiny particles, which have the strange property of being in many places at one time. But things made of tiny particles tend to stay in one place at one time, which does not seem right according to quantum theory. May I continue?"

YES, BUT NOT INDEFINITELY, said Death, EVERYTHING IS TRANSIENT. He did not take his gaze away from the tumbling sand.

"Well, then, if we agreed that there are an infinite number of universes, then the problem is solved! If there are an unlimited number of universes, this bed can be in millions of them, all at the same time!"

DOES IT MOVE?

"What?

Death nodded at the bed. CAN YOU FEEL IT MOVING? he said.

"No, because there are a million versions of me, too, And...here is the good bit ...in some of them I am not about to pass away! Anything is possible!"

Death tapped the handle of his scythe as he considered this.

AND YOUR POINT IS...?

"Well, I'm not exactly dying, correct? You are no longer such a certainty."

There was a sigh from Death. Space he thought. That was the trouble. It was never like this on worlds with everlastingly cloudy skies. But once humans saw all that space, their brains expanded to try and fill it up.

"No answer, eh?" said the dying philosopher. "Feel a bit old-fashioned, do we?"

THIS IS A CONUNDRUM CERTAINLY, said Death. Once they prayed, he thought. Mind you, he'd never been sure that prayer worked, either. He thought for a while. AND I SHALL ANSWER IT IN THIS MANNER, he added. YOU LOVE YOUR WIFE?

"What?"

THE LADY WHO HAS BEEN LOOKING AFTER YOU. YOU LOVE HER?

"Yes. Of course."

CAN YOU THINK OF ANY CIRCUMSTANCES WHERE, WITHOUT YOUR PERSONAL HISTORY CHANGING IN ANY WAY YOU WOULD AT THIS MOMENT PICK UP A KNIFE AND STAB HER? said Death. FOR EXAMPLE?

"Certainly not!"

BUT YOUR THEORY SAYS THAT YOU MUST. IT IS EASILY POSSIBLE WITHIN THE PHYSICAL LAWS OF THE UNIVERSE, AND THEREFORE MUST HAPPEN, AND HAPPEN MANY TIMES. EVERY MOMENT IS A BILLION, BILLION MOMENTS, AND IN THOSE MOMENTS ALL THINGS THAT ARE POSSIBLE ARE INEVITABLE. ALL TIME SOONER OR LATER, BOILS DOWN TO A MOMENT.

"But of course we can make choices between-"

ARE THERE CHOICES? EVERYTHING THAT CAN HAPPEN, MUST HAPPEN. YOUR THEORY SAYS THAT FOR EVERY UNIVERSE THAT'S FORMED TO ACCOMMODATE YOUR 'NO', THERE MUST BE ONE TO ACCOMMODATE YOUR 'YES'. BUT YOU SAID YOU WOULD NEVER COMMIT MURDER. THE FABRIC OF THE COSMOS TREMBLES BEFORE YOUR TERRIBLE CERTAINTY. YOUR MORALITY BECOMES A FORCE AS STRONG AS GRAVITY. And, thought Death, space certainly has a lot to answer for.

"Was that sarcasm?"

ACTUALLY, NO. I AM IMPRESSED AND INTRIGUED, said Death. THE CONCEPT YOU PUT BEFORE ME PROVES THE EXISTENCE OF TWO HITHERTO MYTHICAL PLACES. SOMEWHERE, THERE IS A WORLD WHERE EVERYONE MADE THE RIGHT CHOICE, THE MORAL CHOICE, THE CHOICE THAT MAXIMISED THE HAPPINESS OF THEIR FELLOW CREATURES, OF COURSE, THAT ALSO MEANS THAT SOMEWHERE ELSE IS THE SMOKING REMNANT OF THE WORLD WHERE THEY DID NOT ...

"Oh, come on! I know what you're implying, and I've never believed in any of that Heaven and Hell nonsense!"

The room was growing darker. The blue gleam along the edge of the reaper's scythe was becoming more obvious.

ASTONISHING, said Death. REALLY ASTONISHING. LET ME PUT FORWARD ANOTHER SUGGESTION: THAT YOU ARE NOTHING MORE THAN A LUCKY SPECIES OF APE THAT IS TRYING TO UNDERSTAND THE COMPLEXITIES OF CREATION VIA A LANGUAGE THAT EVOLVED IN ORDER TO TELL ONE ANOTHER WHERE THE RIPE FRUIT WAS?

Fighting for breath, the philosopher managed to say: "Don't be silly."

THE REMARK WAS NOT INTENDED AS DEROGATORY, said Death. UNDER THE CIRCUMSTANCES, YOU HAVE ACHIEVED A GREAT DEAL.

"We've certainly escaped from outmoded superstitions!"

WELL DONE, said Death. THAT'S THE SPIRIT. I JUST WANTED TO CHECK.

He leaned forward.

AND ARE YOU AWARE OF THE THEORY THAT THE STATE OF SOME TINY PARTICLES IS INDETERMINATE UNTIL THE MOMENT THEY ARE OBSERVED? A CAT IN A BOX IS OFTEN MENTIONED.

"Oh, yes," said the philosopher.

GOOD, said Death. He got to his feet as the last of the light died, and smiled.

I SEE YOU...

A.D - The Butterfly Effect

I don't often post stuff writen by other people up here, but these lyrics are fantastic and I want to remember them for later.

After
The ones who wait
For judgment
To befall them
And deserved are we
That need no judgment
Fear nothing
But nothing itself
Find faith in yourselves
For you're all Gods
All of you
Within yourselves
In this
The year
We pray
And after the wooden icons have infested your mind
Ground your feet
And all that is real
And bare the scars
of all your convictions
Wear them
Yourself
The proud
The standalones
Do, do not ask forgiveness from the icon
Ask it from yourselves

Sickness beginning
Lies continuing
Story and fable
See-through not able

Its cold and dry
As I am to design the sea
That blinds me behind me
But nothing is left of me
Hide behind as I decide
For the end of time
We will be
So as I find my eye itself
It's jealousy
The evolution would be
But nothing is left to see
What I decide
Give time
To the end of time
When I would be left to see

More to the meaning
Forbidden you feel me
I'm broken and freezing
Exhausted from breathing
The weakness beginning
Try and believe it
No more
We believe you

I'm not like you
Go and be gone
you betrayed my trust

Lies all lies all lies all lies
If you stay
You feel without feeling
All is lost

Of Extinguished Stars

As I was gazing at the stars,
in the silence of the evening,
I began to muse.
As is the penchant
of gazers.
As I looked upwards
at the cold light, frost's fire,
I remembered a phrase
that soured my gaze
and left me chilled.

"Every star that we see,
in the sky so bright and clear,
shining with hope to light the night,
is dead.
Gone.
The light we see is late!
Thousands
and thousands of years late.
We see the light of vanquished giants,
of souls long past.
The plea of passed, forgotten ghosts,
now nothing."

I mused on all the stars I saw,
hanging above, aloft, serene,
and mused.
Upon the planets that they snared,
Upon the worlds that flourished there,
Upon the dead, the lost, the gone,
the Nothing.
And reflected that the light I saw was merely a marker.
A gravestone.
And all that ever existed there
was Nothing.
And the weight of the weightless stars,
so beautiful, so beautiful,
began to crush me.

And in my anguish I fixed my gaze,
my torn gaze,
upon the spaces between the stars.
Where nothing shone.
And I envisioned the stars,
that no doubt were there
aloft in the void.
And I envisioned the ones,
that would be.
Which star would see our star,
I wondered.
Which star that had not yet come to be,
thousands of years in the future,
would support the life that would turn an eye to the heavens,
and ruminate on the light of a forgotten star
that once supported me
and now is returned to the inky black,
the void that bore it,
and is Nothing.
As I would be.

And as this icy conviction took hold,
and as I mourned for eventual destruction,
my gaze,
my torn gaze,
was drawn anew.
Back to the star I behold at the first,
and dreamt of long forgotton worlds,
it had moved.
It was not a star at all,
It was a satillite.
Drifting in our orbit, serene, aloft.
With a purpose I was not to know,
or to care.
But purpose.
Beaming down information to a living, breathing world,
in the eternal orbit around the heart,
careless of the vanquished suns.
And I laughed,
and laughed,
and laughed.

Mental Invasion

O-kay...
I'm not sure that I like the fact that my blog has become a controversial spot to hang out over the past few days. Don't get me wrong - I'm loving all your kind compliments about my writings - despite the fact that praise makes me uncomfortable, like everyone I enjoy it. But this blog is primarily to house my writings for me, not for entertainment or amusement of others. So I think I'm going to lean away from 'hot topics' like 512 for a little while and turn my brain back towards the old pursuits - fiction and such.
The following is a little piece I wrote a few weeks ago. I hope, if you are reading this, that you enjoy it - but remember, I didn't write it for you to enjoy, I wrote it for me. Just like everything else on this blog.

I can fight you.

I’m well aware of your ability – in fact, it is what makes the prospect so attractive. You have the potential to become my perfect enemy. In fact, it is your right to do so.

You’ve started this battle – this war – unintentionally, I know. I believe your motives in the beginning were pure. No, in fact, there were no motivations in the beginning. I don’t even think you deigned to notice me. The opening of hostilities was completely unnoticed by you.

That doesn’t change the fact that it was you who opened them, whether or not you knew. You invaded, not I. At first, I took it as innocent – trespass, certainly – but in due time I realised you were an occupying force.

Again, at first I assumed I had done something or was somehow to blame for this invasion. I refused to believe that you had any intention of being a threat, of visiting harm upon me. That’s certainly changed. But, in the beginning, I extended the olive branch of peace. You were a reasonable tenant for a while – you took up a lot of room, but you left me able to get on with other things around you. For a time, I was content with the arrangements.

Then, of course, the unpleasantness began when I decided to remove you. To this day, I’m not sure why I was driven to this. Perhaps the distraction you presented from my other tasks was too great. Perhaps your vocal complaints were silenced too rarely by a personal visit. Whatever the reasoning, I attempted to remove you from the territory you had claimed – my thoughts – by removing you from my life physically.

Unbeknownst to me though, you took very little time in fortifying your position. You lay low, and I thought you exorcised entirely from my domain. More fool me.

When circumstances allowed, you made your presence known with a great flame and a riotous noise. You swept across me like wildfire – caught unprepared, I was powerless to act. You consumed as much space as you had previously occupied, perhaps even slightly more. But gone was your peaceful cohabitation. You were an active militia, hunting down my thought trail at every opportunity and ruthlessly turning it to your own ends. You were unstoppable.

For a long time I was your slave. I’m not ashamed to admit the truth of that. You commanded my thought effortlessly, and my body was powerless to resist it. As I said, I’m well aware of your ability.

I broke free though, didn’t I? I don’t think either of us were expecting that. Your physical actions drove me to it, in the end. Another weak invader sought to take your place, but you drove him out swiftly – but I became aware of your methods for myself and in a wild state cut off all communication with you. Without fresh input, your occupying force in my mind faltered and died. I was free.

But I was also alone.

I reopened communication with you after a long break. I am prepared now, as fortified in my own mind as anyone can be, strong and confident and sure of my ability to, if not win this war, at least fight it.

We’re both fighting on familiar ground – I’ve lived in this mind for almost eighteen years now, but you cracked it open and bent it to your will utterly in a few short months. The territory is, as they say, no man’s land. There is no advantage here, but there will be no quarter either.

I can fight you, and I can feel that familiar fire again while I do it.

D.

Today's artwork is called Venser's Diffusion, by Hideaki Takamura.

Project 512

Enough is enough.
That's all I can really say on the matter to begin with. Enough is enough. We've indulged this rampant idiocy for too long, and now I'm going to speak out against it. I know that I'm not the only one who has this view on the matter - I am really just setting out the thoughts of many, but at the same time I believe a coherent counterargument needs to be formed, because matters are getting out of hand.
Warning: I plan on being fairly brutal. If you're an advocate of Project 512, you probably have a thin skin, so I'd advise you not to read this. However, if you are an advocate of Project 512, you're probably too self-righteous to heed this advice, so continue at your peril.

What the hell is Project 512?: This bit I'll explain without bias, because there are probably a few people here who don't know what I'm talking about. I can't actually find an official description on the site - but the gist of it is this. Project 512 is a website that is moderated by young adults and targeted at combating depression, anxiety, bullying - basically any problem that affects teenagers. You basically log on, find the forum that describes your particular issue, write about it, and other users respond. There is merchandise, donation options, that sort of thing.

Now I'm going to present my arguments as to exactly why Project 512 is a terrible, terrible thing and why it would be far better for those involved if the entire site was destroyed. This may seem rather over-zealous, but it has taken me some time to come to this conclusion and I'm going to present this as logically as possible.

Point 1: Project 512 encourages self-diagnosis and hypochondria due to incredibly poor standards of response.

I'll put this in simple terms. Angsty Child 1 posts up a story about their issue of choice. Angsty Child 2 responds with something along the lines of "that sucks, sounds like you have bi-polar/depression/*insert mental condition here*". Angsty Child 1 believes this, whether or not they actually have such a condition.
Medical diagnosis complete, without the intervention of a trained professional! Marvellous. Which leads me on to my second point.

Point 2: Project 512 has little to no appropriate moderation.

Nine times out of ten this isn't a problem. The individuals that go on there and tell their "omg nobody likes me SOMEONE HELP" stories usually get responses along the lines of "that sucks, but look what happened to me!". And that's fine - there isn't actually anything wrong with these teenagers, they just have angst. But what if someone comes along with serious issues? With blanket access for all users, what is to stop some twelve year old taking the piss - or even simply giving a trivial response, such as "lol that sucks." Especially in the cases of advanced mental disorders, it wouldn't take much to push someone over the edge, and this site encourages them to pour out their heart and soul to an entity of teenagers wrapped up in their own problems. Not exactly safe or healthy.

Point 3: Project 512 is a breeding ground for angst. It exacerbates the problem rather than combats it.

This is the point I believe I will face the most opposition about. I base this upon individuals I'm actually aware of who frequent the site, and from browsing the site's contents and drawing logical conclusions from said contents. I refuse to believe that surrounding yourself with the issues of others and airing your own issues in such a setting is conductive to good mental health. There is a place for discussing and surmounting your issues. That place is with a trained professional. It is an inappropriate setting for real issues, and it encourages the teenage penchant for attention whoring, excessive drama, and pointless anger. Thus, it is detrimental to the teenage population that accesses it.

Point 4: The moderators/higher ups of the website are utterly self-righteous and pompous, to the point of being spiteful and vicious in defence of their creation.

This is where, sadly, I am going to have to get personal. I speak primarily of [edited], though I am sure they are not the sole representatives of this cohort. The phrase "If you're not for us, you're against us" applies here, and also my arguments in my previous blog post about 'weak' personalities. These two individuals in particular have nothing else of interest in their lives. Their Facebook pages, conversation - in short, their lives - revolve around Project 512, and their 'issues'. They should be considered seperately, however, and I'm going to cover them both simply because they both illustrate my point in different ways.
[Edited] is, simply put, a distraught and unhappy teenager who has been encouraged to not only express his discontent with himself, but positively wallows in it. At any hour of the day he is self-loathing and what's more, he seems to take a warped sort of satisfaction out of it. And at the heart of this is Project 512. I feel nothing but pity for him and urge him, if he is reading this, to seek proper help - this is a poor substitute.
[Edited] is, to my knowledge, the founder of Project 512 and its chief supporter. In short, it has consumed him. The phrase 'self-righteous douchebag' is one that has been applied many times, and I think it very apt. It is a curious thing that sometimes people who believe they are doing good in the world are so monumentally arrogant about it that they place themselves far above everyone else, and [Edited] has certainly done that. He is judgemental, aggressive in defence of his creation, preaching - even going so far as to attack other, similiar causes (those who have encountered him will remember his rage at TWLOHA Day, claiming it was for 'Twilight bitches who don't know what they're talking about.) There is no way in his eyes but his way, and unfortunately Project 512 has encouraged in him the teenage penchant for believing that everyone is against him. The rumours that he spends the donations and merchandise proceeds on his car, admittedly, have no evidence behind them - but I would believe them.
I have nothing more to say on him, say that I hold him in a position of utmost contempt and want nothing to do with him save laugh at his incredible stupidity and arrogance.

To conclude this: Project 512 is a plague upon those who use it. It encourages and exacerbates their issues, would be downright dangerous for those individuals who actually need professional help, encourages self-diagnosis and self-righteous arrogance, and should not be allowed to continue.

Something I wish to disprove but can't. D:

Two blogs in two days. MADNESS. I've been goaded into this one as it was the second half of the debate which incited the blog I wrote yesterday - and committing that discussion to text is as important to the other half of that conversation as it is to me, so I'm doing it now.

I was introduced to an interesting theory about a year and a half ago, and the impact of that theory is such that I find myself recalling it quite often even now - and despite the fact that I don't believe it is true. The theory is the following:

If you consider every possible variable leading up to an action or choice of an individual, they are doing the only logical thing considering all variables, and thus, are doing the best they can at all times.

I'll try and explain. Imagine an all-seeing being - an entity that can see absolutely everything that has ever happpened ever. If this being considered a human being - their upbringing, the elements that went into their personality, their history, their genetics, everything - and then considered that person's actions, it would see that every action that they took could be attributed to all these things that led them to that point. If this being could see every circumstance which relates to a person, however small, than it could logically trace every action that person takes to a particular circumstance or circumstances. And, logically, it could predict what actions and choices that person would make in the future based on those circumstances.
Thus, every action that a person takes is dictated by the infinite myriad of circumstances which led them to that point, and thus, they are doing the best they can be expected to do at all times. This theory was told to me by my psychiatrist at the time and I believe he was telling me the theory in order to allow me some sort of forgiveness for my stepfather - if I could view his actions as the result of the circumstances that shaped him, I could come to forgive him in time.
That didn't happen, and I loathe this theory with every fibre of my being because I find it constricting. Something about it strikes a chord of horror within me - it feels too much like logically proving that there is no free will. But, as the psychiatrist patiently explained to me, free will is a variable that is considered also.
I DO NOT LIKE IT.
Still, an interesting discussion topic.
And now, a pretty picture, and the quote that was attached to it. The artwork is called Shadow of Doubt.

"Your ignorance is my bliss."

Musings on Personality

Right then. Goaded by the incessant, shrill voices of Facebook demanding attention and by the incredibly intellectual and entertaining debate that rages in my spa at 11 at night, I am going to put my thoughts onto metaphorical paper on the subject of individuality and identity. YES, this is a thinly veiled dig at the supporters of ‘512 Day’ and that sort of ilk, but I would hope that you bear with my argument on the matter and at least have the decency to countermand me with intellect rather than flames. If I wanted to seriously assault you, I’d write a whole post about you, and that day is fast approaching, but for now I broach this subject merely in the interests of psychological theory. So, I hope you enjoy it.

First and foremost, my discussion opens with an examination of myself, as I am wont to do. Why do I find the company of some far more interesting than the company of others? Why do people I barely know command my respect, and why do others I have known for years command none? What, in short, attracts me to individuals? The answer, we have found, is simple. I am attracted to those who match my personality in terms of stature – that is to say, those who share the same elements of personality that I myself share. After closer examination, all those I would hold in respect have self-awareness, confidence, and layers. All those I hold in contempt do not.

I am explaining this poorly. I shall attempt to summarise the overall thought. I, having a ‘strong’ personality, am attracted to the company of others who possess ‘strong’ personalities. I am also repelled by those who possess ‘weak’ personalities.

So, what makes a ‘strong’ personality? Again, after much discussion, we concluded that the answer is simple – have an interest, a passion! For example, I have a passion for writing and expression, for World of Warcraft, for good books, and for finding out what makes others tick. My closest confident and oft-inspiration – Ben – has a passion for art and for acrobatics. A girl named Catherine who I do not know very well has a penchant for expression and English, though I sense there is a lot more that I am not seeing – in short, our passions and abilities lend us depth, which in turn gives us strength. To summarise this thought, hobbies lead to confidence and surety of self. If you know what you like, you know who you are.

By no means am I suggesting that to have a ‘strong’ personality means to be outspoken, extroverted and vocal. Again to quote examples, I know a girl named Kelly who is one of the meekest people I know – but she has that strength that originates from depth. I find her a fascinating person and despite the fact she is so withdrawn, I enjoy her company vastly – perhaps even more so than people I spent thrice as much time around and who make four times the noise. Indeed, there are infinite elements to consider in how ‘strong’ personalities will relate to each other – it isn’t all being loud. I myself tend to be a veritable flow of words when in the company of Ben, who has over time become a master at changing the direction of my thought processes with a single sentence interjected. In this manner, we communicate and create– this entire discussion is the work of the two of us, one night in the spa.

To consider the other end of the spectrum, those with ‘weak’ personalities are a whole other kettle of fish. You know the type. Endless Facebook status updates with how bored they are, how miserable they are, how much their life sucks. They have a brittle outer shell of misery and resentment, and their hollow insides are easy to see. I for one cannot stand the company of one for more than a few seconds at a time, and the sight of their endless moaning makes me angry. Perhaps it is the lack of talent and passion that led to their identities retaining the consistency of wet cardboard – I do not know. I suspect this is not the case all the time – one of the chief offenders is quite a good drawer, for example – but it seems to hold true. Without something driving you, these parasites – for parasites they are – latch on to one another and feed each other’s misery. And that is exactly what Project 512 is. A hollow refuge for the hollow.

But I digress.

To sum up:

‘Strong’ personalities will enjoy the company of other ‘strong’ personalities and be uncomfortable, even contemptible, of those with ‘weak’ personalities.

‘Weak’ personalities band together to mask their lack of depth and feed off one another’s misery, perhaps taking solace in the fact that just because all they have left to them is complaining doesn’t mean they can’t share that with someone just like them.

I consider myself a strong personality and cannot abide those with weak personalities. I refuse to believe they are victims of circumstance, especially in the day and age we live in, and I have no patience for them.

To finish entirely, another spiffy picture! I'm going to make a habit of giving a new one every post, because it means I can thumbnail them on facebook and it isn't always the rainbow crow.