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gigerth

Avatar: 30869 Fri Jun 26 22:33:49 -0400 2009
2

[Team Shortbus]

Level 31 Troll

i was jealous so i changed his title

Correnth Posted:

Naturally, of course, the blind fish catches a scent in the water – Just the faintest aroma of a long dead morsel – and swims eagerly toward it, taking it within its mouth. But then its too late, and the hook is set, reeling it in for the long harvest. Oh, of *course* dear Mrs. Sherwood, I would *love* to offer you a debate on our spiritual differences. Unfortunately, the ultimate issue with such a thing is that for someone so blinded to reality there can be no “debate” – Only the sound of your own mind screaming as the truth enters your ears, fingers desperately attempting to plug the canals but knowing deep within your very heart that the lies you send every night to the empty skies above are never heard by anything but your thirty cats.

As to the rest of your statement, when speaking of “Fathers” and “climbing young men”, please refrain from doing so in the same sentence. Quite frankly, I’d rather not hear of what your Father Joseph did to those poor elementary school children – Though I love the sounds of agony and fear, I shudder at the thought of their tortured screams as this Joseph fellow followed along the path of others in his religion and proceeded to fill them with the love of christ

up their bum.

You see, Mrs. Sherwood, I have little tolerance for those of your ilk. Instead I’ve come over the past sixteen years to loathe those like you. A deep-seated, pbumionate hatred, the fires of which could only be matched by the myth of your “hell”. No, I have met many like you, and sent just as many away crying delicious tears, the knowledge of reality infesting their minds, breaking down the precious little walls they’ve built to sequester themselves away from reality. You are an escapist, Mrs. Sherwood, running from the truth of life. That there is no god. That your christ is a lie. That you’ve wasted your life on a pursuit that only gives you lost time, a tree that bears naught but rotted fruit, its branches swaying impotently in the torrential wind known as life.

You are trying to escape, Mrs. Sherwood. But soon there will be no place to hide.

snap

(i didnt read it)


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