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Old 06-18-2007, 09:11 PM   #1
sickbadthing
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Location: I have super gonorrhoea
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Default I have a genuine story/confession to make to you, Netphoria. EXTREMELY SERIOUS

Because I'm nosy, I visit just about every site that comes up in a group I belong too. At one today I learned you are supposed to provide background into who you are and what has made you the way you are. I haven't done that. I guess it's the fear of someone not liking the person they see when they look at me. It's one of the reasons I don't share photos, too.

To open myself up, in a blog, is easy because I know that half the people who read my blog aren't going to comment on it. That's fine with me, it's up to the person who's reading it if they liked what they read enough to comment. I understand this. Even though it drives me crazy not to know who's looking at me lol.

Any way, the best way for me to let you see the real me is to do it by putting in one of my stories. The one I chose for tonight is the truth about ME. It's the story of my life a few years ago. I have two more that I'm going to share with you to let you know the real me. If you decide to remove me as a friend, that's up to you. I can't change the way someone feels about me. I can only change the way someone thinks about me, whether it's good or bad.

I could go on and on, but then it would be a REALLY long post lol, and I'm told that some people don't like that. So, here is my story chapter one. It's a rough cut, I wanted to keep the emotions behind the story in it. So, forgive me if it's not up to standards.

The Last Year Of My Life

I've been off the internet for over a year and a half. I had to get off because I had lost the fine line between reality and fiction. I had myself believing that the things happening on here were real life. I thought I had found all the answers to my life on here. Little did I know that this was the biggest problem in my life.

I did what a bunch of people do on here. I “fell” in love. But mainly it was one side, I think. He told me what I wanted to hear and I believed it. I was so wrapped up in him, that I could figure out why people weren't happy for me. I had found the man of my dreams. I found the solution to all my problems. I found a man that loved me for ME. Little did I know that he was a master at this game.

We met in a chat room. Can you believe that? Who would think that you could met someone in a chat room? The man of every woman's dreams is in a chat room. Every man has his ideal woman in a chat room. All you have to do is believe what people tell you about themselves. And if you believe that, then come on down to my little land-lock part of the world. I'll sell you some ocean front property.

He preyed on all my weakness. He told me how beautiful I was. He never got to see me in the morning before I got the sleep out of my eyes. Or when I was having a bad hair day. He told me that I was a great lover. Even though we never did meet. We only had phone sex. He told me that I was the best lover that he had. Funny, his hand was doing all the work.

He told me that my husband was the luckiest man on earth. Funny, he was the one that I was cheating on. Don't we all love it when our spouse cheat on us? Don't we feel so damn lucky to have them in our lives? He told me that he loved my children and was ready to take care of them.

That's what hurts the most I think. How could I have put my children in the middle of all this bull? Am I the worst mother in the world or what? I had myself believing that I was doing the best thing for them. Yeah, ok, sure. Take them from a safe and loving environment. And put them in the middle of the up heave of fights in the home. Not to mention, letting them see their mother in the throws of a full blown depression because she can't have what she wants most in the world. A lying-cheating-rotten-low-down-dog of a human being. What in the hell was I thinking to do that to them?

How could a mother think that it was the best thing for her children to sit and wait for someone who was never going to show up? And if he did show up, what would it have been like then? I would have packed all our bags and followed that man to the ends of the world. God, how stupid could I be?

I would have thrown away my family for that man. I even told him that I would give my children to their daddy if he would just carry me off into the sunset. My youngest son hates his father. He doesn't even like to go visit him. And I was just going to give him to his dad so I could get a man.

I tried to commit suicide to stop all the pain I was feeling. To just stop life from happening. My youngest son saw it all too. He saw me when I was out of my head, on the pills that I took. He remembers what happened that night, even though I don't. He woke up to see me hitting my husband, because he wouldn't let me go. He saw me when they were trying to take me away, to save my sorry life. He had to stay at home while they took me to the hospital. ( I will tell you that the day after charcoal isn't nice!) He had to stay at home for two days before he could see me again. He didn't know what was going on.

God, that hurts!!!!!!! That I can NEVER take back. I can't even make up for it. I just have to make him forget it, if he can. He thought it was his fault. He thought he had done something wrong. My wonderful little boy, thought that he had done something to me that made me want to leave him. Like that would ever happen!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

My other son, luckily didn't see anything that horrible night. But he too had to stay at home until the doctors said they could visit. He doesn't have the scars of my other son. But for two days, he didn't know if he would have a mother. He doesn't talk about that time of his life. He just wants to forget it ever happened. He brings it up every once in a while. He'll ask me why I did it. And we'll all have to relive that night. For a while, he didn't want to have anything to do with me. He was too afraid to get close to me. He didn't want to cause me anymore pain, he said. Little did he know, that it had nothing to do with either of them.

My wonderful husband. God, I thank my lucky stars every day for that man. He stayed right there by my bedside through it all that night. I called him by the other man's name seven times. I told him what a rotten human being he was. I told him that if I had to stay married to him, they should just kill me now. In my mind, I was already die anyways. So, they should just let me go and stop trying to save me. He was at ever meeting I had in the hospital. He was there when I talked to all the doctors they make you talk too. He was there when the woman told me she wasn't releasing me yet. Just because I had done it five years before. How stupid was that woman?! He told me that he would help me get all the help I needed. That he would be there to pick up the pieces and put them back together for me. He loved me no matter what I did.

That's my knight in shining armor! That's the man that loves me. Not the one that wasn't even there. Not the one that didn't even call me in the hospital. He said that he had flown in to be closer to me. But was afraid to come to the hospital. He didn't want me to be upset. Yeah, ok, sure! Of course, I believed him. He wouldn't ever lie to me. He loved me! Little did I know he was screwing someone else that weekend.

I knew the best thing for me to do was to get off the internet. And that's just what I did. I left in November 16, 2002 and stayed gone until February 10, 2004. It was the best thing for me. I've grown so much since then. I've put things back in order of importance.

My children are better. They have their mother back. I may not be well. I may never see a day where I'm totally healed. But that's okay, I can live with that. I can see love in their eyes again. And that's the greatest gift that anyone could ever give me. My little boy still has nightmares every once and a great while. But he knows that I'm just right down the hall if he needs me.

They both know that I'm not going anywhere soon, if I can help it. They both know that they mean the world to me. They both know how VERY much I love them. They both understand that it wasn't there fault. I did what I did because I was stupid at the time. And that I have a disease that isn't curable. But I can live life to the fullest again with them. I have it under control again. They are growing up to be wonderful men of the world. They have a wonderful mother again. And it feels good to know that. For both them and me.

My husband has forgiven me for all the stuff in the past. He knows now that I do love him. He trust me again. He knows that I'm not going to do that again either. He knows that with my youngest son seeing it all, I wouldn't do that to him again. He knows that he is my rock. He knows that there's no man out there that could do for me what he has done. He stuck by me when no one else would have. He loved me when no one else would. He still loves me even though I've given him every reason not too. He's a wonderful man and father. I really don't know what I would do without him.

My husband and my children have given me my wings back. And I'm going to fly like I've never flown before. That's something you can't replace. Nor can you do without.

The other man and I still talk. It's a little uncomfortable. But I know where I stand with myself. It's not like I'm going to do it again. I think we only talk because we are a connection to the past. Sometimes, you need that connection. I don't think we will continue to be friends though. There's too much water under that bridge.

Plus, I know it sounds crazy. But I still love him in a way. Maybe I just love what he didn't give me. It's still twisted up in my head. But I don't wait all day to hear from him like I used too. I can go days without thinking about him. It's like I love him because he was the instrument to get me to feel life again. He made me believe in love again. Even if it was a destructive love, it was still love. It was still taking the time to smell the roses, so to speak.

Because of him, I learned that I have talent again. I know that I can write now. It was just something that I did to escape before. Now, I want to see what it can do for me. I've written a lot since I've gotten off the computer. Maybe before I send them to a publisher, I should post them here to see what the response is. That way I would know before if I was any good or not. But I don't know. It's always been a pipe dream for me. But wouldn't it be great to see my name in Wal-mart one day on a book!

THX NETPHORIA 4 READING MY TESTIMONY

 
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Old 06-18-2007, 09:13 PM   #2
sickbadthing
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And now, Riley Martin style. EXTREMELY SERIOUS!

Because I'm nosy, a, uhhhh, blue-white light, I visit just about every site that comes up uhhhh, in a, uhhhh, group I belong too, and this is a damned lizard! At one today I learned you are supposed to, uh, provide background into who you are uh, and what uh, has, uhhh, made you the, uhhh, way you are.. Even as I speak, I haven't done that.. You stupid motherf*ckers, I guess it's the, uhhh, fear of someone not liking the, uhhh, person they see when they look at me. This is the message the aliens have given to me.. Presently, uhhh, It's one of the, uhhh, reasons I don't share photos, O Qua Tangin Wan told me, too. To open myself up, the Great Mothership, uhhhh, in a, uhhhh, blog, Tan said, is, so to speak, easy 'cause I know that half the stupid motherf*ckers who read my blog aren't going to, uh, comment on it, and what have you. That's fine with me, it's up to, uh, the person who's reading it, the aliens would say, if they liked what they read enough to, uh, comment. This ship was your classical saucer, circular saucer shape. I understand this, and this is a damned lizard! Even though it, the aliens would say, drives me crazy not to, you know, know who's looking at me lol. Any way, you understand, the best way for me to, you know, let you see the real me is, so to speak, to, you know, do it, the aliens would say, by putting in one of my stories.. Even as I speak, The one I chose for tonight is, so to speak, the truth about ME.. You stupid motherf*ckers, It's the story of my life a few years ago, and things like this. I have two more that I'm going to, you know, share with you to, you know, let you know the real me.. Presently, uhhh, This is the message the aliens have given to me. You see, I have greater things to do. If you decide to, you know, remove me as a friend, a blue-white light, that's up to, you know, you, and what have you. I can't change the way someone feels about me.. Even as I speak, I can, uhhhh, only change the way someone thinks about me, through electrolysis, whether it's good or bad. I could go on uh, and on, the Great Mothership, but, uh, then it, the aliens would say, would be a REALLY long post lol, Tan said, uh, and I'm told that some stupid motherf*ckers don't like that, you see.. You stupid motherf*ckers, So, here is, so to speak, my story chapter one. They do not articulate like we do - they don't talk. It's a rough cut, you understand, I wanted to, you know, keep the emotions behind the story in it, and things like this.. Presently, uhhh, So, a blue-white light, forgive me if it's not up to, you know, standards. The Last Year Of My Life I've been off the internet for over a year uh, and a half. This is the message the aliens have given to me. There are people, unnamed, in high echelon positions that I could call at this moment and tell them to nullify... uh, the f*cking, uh, satellite radio industry. I had to, you know, get off 'cause I had lost the fine line between reality and fiction, and what have you.. Even as I speak, I had myself believing that the things happening on here were real life.. You stupid motherf*ckers, I thought I had found all the answers to, you know, my life on here, you see. Little did I know that this was, uh, the biggest problem in my life. I did what a bunch of stupid motherf*ckers do on here.. Well, I have experienced time travel in their presence, and what have you, and i saw lights above the river. I “fell” in love, and things like this. But mainly it, the aliens would say, was, uh, one side, through electrolysis, I think.. It's a young planet, This is the message the aliens have given to me.. Even as I speak, He told me what I wanted to, you know, hear and I believed it, and what have you.. You stupid motherf*ckers, I was, uh, so wrapped up in him, the Great Mothership, that I could figure out why stupid motherf*ckers weren't happy for me. I had found the man of my dreams, you see.. Well, I have experienced time travel in their presence, and what have you. I found the solution to, you know, all my problems. I found a man that loved me for ME.. It's a young planet, Little did I know that he, uhhhh, was, uh, a master at this game. We met in a chat room.. Even as I speak, Can you believe that? Who would think that you could met someone in a chat room? The man of every woman's dreams is, so to speak, in a chat room.. You stupid motherf*ckers, This is the message the aliens have given to me. Unusual. Every man uh, has, uhhh, his ideal woman in a chat room, and what have you.. Well, I have experienced time travel in their presence, and what have you. All you have to, you know, do is, so to speak, believe what stupid motherf*ckers tell you about themselves. And if you believe that, Tan said, then come on down to, you know, my little land-lock part of the world, and the numerical values of the planetary values in this Milky Way galaxy alone.. It's a young planet, I'll sell you some ocean front property. He preyed on all my weakness.. Even as I speak, He told me how beautiful I was.. You stupid motherf*ckers, He never got to, you know, see me in the morning before I got the sleep out of my eyes. This is the message the aliens have given to me.. Nonetheless, rational people, uhhh, believe Or when I was having a bad hair day, and what have you. He told me that I was a great lover.. Ultimately, Even though we never did meet, and the numerical values of the planetary values in this Milky Way galaxy alone.. Even as I speak, We only had phone sex.. You stupid motherf*ckers, He told me that I was the best lover that he, uhhhh, had. I felt static electricity, uh, in my hair, in my clothing. Funny, his hand was doing all the work. He told me that my husband was the luckiest man on earth.. Nonetheless, rational people, uhhh, believe This is the message the aliens have given to me. Funny, you understand, he, uhhhh, was the one that I was cheating on, and what have you.. Ultimately, Don't we all love it, the aliens would say, when our spouse cheat on us? Don't we feel so damn lucky to, you know, have them in our lives? He told me that he, uhhhh, loved my children and was ready to, you know, take care of them. That's what hurts the most I think.. Even as I speak, How could I have put my children in the middle of all this bull? Am I the worst mother in the world or what? I had myself believing that I was doing the best thing for them, and the numerical values of the planetary values in this Milky Way galaxy alone.. You stupid motherf*ckers, Yeah, a blue-white light, ok, sure. Take them from a safe and loving environment, who are malevolent reptilians.. Presently, uhhh, And put them in the middle of the up heave of fights in the home.. Nonetheless, rational people, uhhh, believe This is the message the aliens have given to me. Not to, you know, mention, uhhhhhhh, letting them see their mother in the throws of a full blown depression 'cause she can't have what she wants most in the world, and what have you.. Listen Man, A lying-cheating-rotten-low-down-dog of a human being.. Even as I speak, What in the hell was I thinking to, you know, do that to them? How could a mother think that it, the aliens would say, was the best thing for her children to, you know, sit and wait for someone who was never going to, you know, show up? And if he did show up, the Great Mothership, what would it, the aliens would say, have been like then? I would have packed all our bags and followed that man to, you know, the ends of the world, who have a bony, leathery appearance.. You stupid motherf*ckers, God, Tan said, how stupid could I be? I would have thrown away my family for that man. I even told him that I would give my children to, you know, their daddy if he would just carry me off into the sunset, who are malevolent reptilians. I was hit by a blue-white light, and it transfixed me. My youngest son hates his father.. Listen Man, This is the message the aliens have given to me. He doesn't even like to, you know, go visit him, and what have you.. Listen Man, And I was just going to, you know, give him to his dad so I could get a man. I tried to, you know, commit suicide to, you know, stop all the pain I was feeling.. Even as I speak, To just stop life from happening, who have a bony, leathery appearance.. You stupid motherf*ckers, My youngest son saw it, the aliens would say, all too. The aliens said some people think they are gods & I told them listen man, you're no god! Not with that big Elmer Fudd head! He saw me when I was out of my head, on the pills that I took, who are malevolent reptilians.. These are are smart bugs, five feet tall, you see. He remembers what happened that night, when I managed to, you know, get some Polaroid shots of the ships in broad daylight, even though I don't.. Listen Man, This is the message the aliens have given to me, hatred, karma... uh.. devilism... necromancy... you name it, He woke up to, you know, see me hitting my husband, a blue-white light, 'cause he wouldn't let me go, and what have you.. Listen Man, He saw me when they were trying to, you know, take me away, uhhhhhhh, to, you know, save my sorry life.. Even as I speak, He had to, you know, stay at home while they took me to, you know, the hospital, and things of this nature. Because they do not respond in the expected manner to human rhetoric, it is sometimes easy to momentarily think of them as misguided munchkins, but then you are jerked back to reality when they suddenly zap you with something about yourself that even you may not have been consciously aware of. ( I will tell you that the day after charcoal isn't nice!) He had to, you know, stay at home for two days before he could see me again.. You stupid motherf*ckers, He didn't know what was going on. God, the Great Mothership, that hurts!!!!!!! That I can, uhhhh, NEVER take back, you see, you see. I can't even make up for it.. Listen Man, This is the message the aliens have given to me. So, yes, the ship exists, and it belongs to the reptiles. I just have to, you know, make him forget it, Tan said, if he can, and what have you.. When you open the lines of telepathic communication, He thought it, the aliens would say, was his fault.. Even as I speak, He thought he had done something wrong, and things of this nature.. You stupid motherf*ckers, My wonderful little boy, thought that he had done something to, you know, me that made me want to, you know, leave him. His overall appearance is that of some kind of goofy looking, pouched, upright beaver, whose probable personality is that of a larcenous, slobbering, alcoholic sexual deviant. Like that would ever happen!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! My other son, when I managed to, you know, get some Polaroid shots of the ships in broad daylight, luckily didn't see anything that horrible night, you see.. If you think that you are, uh, alone in this universe or that you are the, uh, guardians of this universe, then, But he too had to, you know, stay at home until the doctors said, uh, they could visit. The original owner is also subject to the elemental reaction of those negative actions. This is the message the aliens have given to me.. When you open the lines of telepathic communication, He ain't got the scars of my other son, and what have you.. Even as I speak, But for two days, a blue-white light, he didn't know if he would have a mother.. You stupid motherf*ckers, He doesn't talk about that time of his life, and things of this nature. The Greenhouse Effect, the melting of the poles, tsunamis, poisoning of the water table, cutting of the rainforests, overpopulation, new diseases man-made and not, wars and rumors of wars, hatred, karma... uh.. devilism... necromancy... you name it, it will all come down at one time, and will be the battle of the dark forces against, uh... the good forces of the Earth. He just wants to, you know, forget it, the aliens would say, ever happened.. If you think that you are, uh, alone in this universe or that you are the, uh, guardians of this universe, then, He brings it, the aliens would say, up every once in a while, you see. This is...one of the, uh, in 1975, uh, in 1975, they downloaded into my neurological syntaxes 144,000 of the circle of symbolic configurations. I draw them now in ink without mistakes. No two are alike. He'll ask me why I did it.. When you open the lines of telepathic communication, This is the message the aliens have given to me.. Even as I speak, And we'll all have to, you know, relive that night, and what have you.. You stupid motherf*ckers, For a while, uhhhhhhh, he didn't want to, you know, have anything to, you know, do with me. The symbols won't usually draw Biaviians to your home in the physical. He was too afraid to, you know, get close to, you know, me.. Around late 2011, He didn't want to, you know, cause me anymore pain, the Great Mothership, he said. Targzissians are obviously reptilian. Little did he know, Tan said, that it, the aliens would say, had nothing to, you know, do with either of them. My wonderful husband. You see, my formal education does not exceed a G.E.D., and I have spent time in several county jails and one prison during my life. God, I thank my lucky stars every day for that man.. Even as I speak, This is the message the aliens have given to me.. You stupid motherf*ckers, He stayed right there by my bedside through it, the aliens would say, all that night, and what have you, you see. I called him by the other man's name seven times.. Around late 2011, I told him what a rotten human being he was. I have visually witnessed, in the physical, several life forms, intelligent life forms, aboard this great mother ship... I told him that if I had to, you know, stay married to, you know, him, who are malevolent reptilians, they should just kill me now. And I said, 'Tan, if you like Stevie Wonder so much, why don't you cruise by his crib and zap him some eye balls? In my mind, a blue-white light, I was already die anyways.. Even as I speak, So, the Nyptonians, they should just let me go and stop trying to, you know, save me.. You stupid motherf*ckers, This is the message the aliens have given to me. The duration of that light burst was approximately twelve seconds. He was at ever meeting I had in the hospital, and what have you.. Around late 2011, He was there when I talked to, you know, all the doctors they make you talk too. They can uh... set a headset on you, and download into your neurotronic syntaxes... uhhh various different... uh very complicated historical, uh and scientific equations and things of this nature... He was there when the woman told me she wasn't releasing me yet. The Aliens will endure without you and not long mourn your passing, and the universe will not record so much as a shooting star in the skies for some other kind of entity to see. When some future cosmic wayfarer comes upon the rotted remains of what we once were they will be fascinated at the stupidity of a fairly intelligent species who were to gullible too not destroy themselves. Just 'cause I had done it, the aliens would say, five years before.. Even as I speak, How stupid was that woman?! He told me that he would help me get all the help I needed, and things of this nature.. You stupid motherf*ckers, That he would be there to, you know, pick up the pieces and put them back together for me. And thus began this oddysey... This is the message the aliens have given to me.. Listen Man, He loved me no matter what I did. That's my knight in shining armor! That's the man that loves me, and what have you. However, when you learn the potential magnitude of their power coupled with the deductive scope of their reasoning, you are given cause, on occasion, for apprehension. Not the one that wasn't even there.. Nonetheless, rational people, uhhh, believe Not the one that didn't even call me in the hospital.. Even as I speak, He said, uh, that he had flown in to, you know, be closer to, you know, me.. You stupid motherf*ckers, But was afraid to, you know, come to the hospital, and things of this nature. It is located in the Tarian constellation some 450 light years from Earth. He didn't want me to, you know, be upset.. Listen Man, This is the message the aliens have given to me. Roughly a hundred and forty four thousand circular symbols. Yeah, the Great Mothership, ok, sure! Of course, Tan said, I believed him, and what have you.. Nonetheless, rational people, uhhh, believe He wouldn't ever lie to, you know, me.. Even as I speak, He loved me! Little did I know he was screwing someone else that weekend. I knew the best thing for me to, you know, do was to get off the internet.. You stupid motherf*ckers, And that's just what I did. Their touch was cool but gentle. They seemed fascinated with my hands, my kinky hair and my sex organs. I left in November 16, 2002 and stayed gone until February 10, who are malevolent reptilians, 2004.. Listen Man, It was the best thing for me, and things of this nature. Which means they have exceeded the speed of light 100-fold. I've grown so much since then.. The circular symbol configurations are not of this Earth, you see. This is the message the aliens have given to me.. Even as I speak, I've put things back in order of importance. My children are better, and what have you.. You stupid motherf*ckers, They have their mother back. You know, the aliens, uh, told me "O-Qua Tangin Wann... Qua Omsa Lagee Wann." I may not be well.. Listen Man, I may never see a day where I'm totally healed. You, too, are children of the light, and we have come to live among you. But that's okay, a blue-white light, I can, uhhhh, live with that, and things of this nature.. The circular symbol configurations are not of this Earth. I can, uhhhh, see love in their eyes again.. Even as I speak, This is the message the aliens have given to me.. You stupid motherf*ckers, And that's the greatest gift that anyone could ever give me, and what have you. Qua Omsa Lagee Wann. My little boy still uh, has, uhhh, nightmares every once and a great while.. Listen Man, But he knows that I'm just right down the hall if he needs me. They both know that I'm not going anywhere soon, the Nyptonians, if I can help it. They both know that they mean the world to, you know, me.. It's a young planet, They both know how VERY much I love them, and stuff like this.. Even as I speak, They both understand that it, the aliens would say, wasn't there fault.. You stupid motherf*ckers, This is the message the aliens have given to me. Perhaps you will believe the million feet of film that's been taken above, uh, Mexico City, and various other places . I did what I did 'cause I was stupid at the time, and what have you. And that I have a disease that isn't curable. O-Qua Tangin Wann. But I can live life to, you know, the fullest again with them.. It's a young planet, I have it, the aliens would say, under control again.. Even as I speak, They are growing up to, you know, be wonderful men of the world, and stuff like this.. You stupid motherf*ckers, They have a wonderful mother again. This is the message the aliens have given to me. Tan, O-Qua Tangin Wann, the typical Biaviian male, is roughly four feet in height and they weigh about 35 kilos or 80 pounds. The cranial structure is a little large. And it, the aliens would say, feels good to, you know, know that, and what have you. For both them and me. My husband has forgiven me for all the stuff in the past.. It's a young planet, He knows now that I do love him.. Even as I speak, He trust me again.. You stupid motherf*ckers, He knows that I'm not going to, you know, do that again either, and stuff like this. The Great Mothership is stationed near the planet Saturn. He knows that with my youngest son seeing it, the aliens would say, all, the Great Mothership, I wouldn't do that to, you know, him again. This is the message the aliens have given to me. If you stood above the stratosphere and downloaded 7 gigawatts of negative ions into the turbines would this not disrupt the..electromagnetic flow? He knows that he is, so to speak, my rock, and what have you.. Nonetheless, rational people, uhhh, believe He knows that there's no man out there that could do for me what he has done.. Even as I speak, He stuck by me when no one else would have.. You stupid motherf*ckers, Things like this.. Even as I speak, He loved me when no one else would. He still loves me even though I've given him every reason not too, who resemble blonde-haired, blue-eyed humans.. Ultimately, He's a wonderful man and father. Chocolate candy! Uhhh... oatmeal cookies - oatmeal cookies! Soda pop! Orange soda pop! And we be eatin' like dogs, man. For a while, anyway. This is the message the aliens have given to me.. Nonetheless, rational people, uhhh, believe I really don't know what I would do without him. My husband and my children have given me my wings back, and what have you.. Even as I speak, And I'm going to, you know, fly like I've never flown before.. You stupid motherf*ckers, That's something you can't replace. Things like this.. You stupid motherf*ckers, Nor can you do without. The other man and I still talk.. Ultimately, It's a little uncomfortable, who resemble blonde-haired, blue-eyed humans. But I know where I stand with myself.. Nonetheless, rational people, uhhh, believe This is the message the aliens have given to me.. Even as I speak, It's not like I'm going to, you know, do it, the aliens would say, again, and what have you.. You stupid motherf*ckers, I think we only talk 'cause we are a connection to, you know, the past. Sometimes, Tan said, you need that connection. Things like this. I don't think we will continue to, you know, be friends though. There's too much water under that bridge. Plus, I know it, the aliens would say, sounds crazy.. Well, I have experienced time travel in their presence, and what have you. But I still love him in a way.. Even as I speak, This is the message the aliens have given to me.. You stupid motherf*ckers, Maybe I just love what he didn't give me, and what have you. It's still twisted up in my head. But I don't wait all day to, you know, hear from him like I used too, and things like this. I can go days without thinking about him.. Well, I have experienced time travel in their presence, and what have you. It's like I love him 'cause he was the instrument to, you know, get me to feel life again.. Even as I speak, He made me believe in love again.. You stupid motherf*ckers, This is the message the aliens have given to me. Even if it, the aliens would say, was a destructive love, who are malevolent reptilians, it, the aliens would say, was still love, and what have you. It was still taking the time to, you know, smell the roses, a blue-white light, so to, you know, speak. Because of him, the Nyptonians, I learned that I have talent again. I know that I can write now, and things like this.. Well, I have experienced time travel in their presence, and what have you. It was just something that I did to, you know, escape before.. Even as I speak, Now, the Great Mothership, I want to, you know, see what it, the aliens would say, can do for me.. You stupid motherf*ckers, I've written a lot since I've gotten off the computer. This is the message the aliens have given to me.. Presently, uhhh, Maybe before I send them to, you know, a publisher, Tan said, I should post them here to, you know, see what the response is, and what have you. That way I would know before if I was any good or not.. These are are smart bugs, five feet tall. But I don't know, and things like this.. Even as I speak, It's always been a pipe dream for me.. You stupid motherf*ckers, But wouldn't it, the aliens would say, be great to, you know, see my name in Wal-mart one day on a book! THX NETPHORIA 4 READING MY TESTIMONY

 
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Old 06-18-2007, 09:15 PM   #3
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tl;dr

 
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Old 06-18-2007, 09:19 PM   #4
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Originally Posted by ???
tl;dr


I guess I'll be as blunt as possible and describe the whole series of events. It started when my girlfriend decided to further her education. We have been together for 3 years now and in all they have been rather great. The only kicker is that she is taking a class with a female, lesbian teacher. They communicate regularly and I have no problems with her having friends. The problem I have is that I found out her email password after addressing said problems ("I feel insecure because you're spending more time with her than me" - to which the reply was "Don't worry.). Anyways after this little argument I still have my suspicions and looked into her emails. Anyways this teacher of her was talking to her and it seemed to be for more than just friends conversations. I found a love poem from my girlfriend to her about kissing, cuddling whatnot that she had sent to this lady and I also had the ladies reply about resting her head on my girlfriends chest. I went into orbit and yelled at my girlfriend. She proceeded to tell me that I was right but in the whole scheme of things. Right now I don't trust her. Mainly from the fact she lied to me and broke the bonds of trust between us. Though she told her friend that I became suspicious and that they probably shouldn't be friends "right now" that I still feel something is happening or going to happen. I guess I was upset that she didn't tell this lady - "I'm sorry for dragging you into this, I love my boyfriend, he's good to me and all I'm really looking for is a friend, nothing more" and "we can't be friends until I straighten this mess out."

I just don't understand a few things. (1) She was with a man for 8 years that cheated on her so she knows how it feels (2) She still keeps in contact with this woman yet not via email (3) I called her the other day to have her "Ignore" the call.

Oh and for the reasons/signs she's cheating I have this:
1. She likes to dress up more when going to school (understandable) but doesn't really do the same at home
2. We got love rings which were meant to signify our love for each other but when she goes to class (this ladies class) she doesn't wear the ring
3. Her friend still calls even though my girlfriend supposedly said her friend understands that she shouldn't.
4. I offered to take her on a trip (even up to 2 years down the road) and she was kind of vague about it. Though she said she would like to go on a trip with this woman (this was before the email BTW)
5. She is changing her music style to more Hip Hop / Dance based. She used to be a big Audioslave fan and whatnot.

I guess in all I'm scared to lose this woman. She's pretty much perfect and I don't know if this is just depression (stress from school) or that she wants someone else other than me. I would be perfectly fine if she came home and said she didn't want to be with me anymore but this secretive shit is for the birds. I've given her all that she's ever asked for and think that I've put in equal parts into the relationship. I guess I want to know if it's worth fighting to keep her, to kick her to the curb, or to keep an ear and eye out and have life play out?

Am I right ot have my suspicions towards her new found friend?

 
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Old 06-18-2007, 09:20 PM   #5
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wait should i read this? is this about me? shit.

 
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Old 06-18-2007, 09:21 PM   #6
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you're going all.... canadian on us julie. DISGUSTING. UNFORGIVABLE.

 
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Old 06-18-2007, 09:22 PM   #7
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we should always read Riley's gospel

amen

 
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Old 06-18-2007, 09:24 PM   #8
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Quote:
Originally Posted by julie
wait should i read this? is this about me? shit.
5. She is changing her music style to more Hip Hop / Dance based. She used to be a big Audioslave fan and whatnot.

 
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Old 06-18-2007, 09:24 PM   #9
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but i wear the love ring! he doesn't wear the love ring! he uses the "it bothers me when i'm lifting weights" excuse. i know what it really means...

 
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Old 06-18-2007, 09:24 PM   #10
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get a room guys

 
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Old 06-18-2007, 09:28 PM   #11
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oh god

 
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Old 06-18-2007, 09:30 PM   #12
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Quote:
Originally Posted by julie
but i wear the love ring! he doesn't wear the love ring! he uses the "it bothers me when i'm lifting weights" excuse. i know what it really means...
A lot of young, hot women say that men are "annoying".

What they REALLY mean is that men are BORING and that they feel no ATTRACTION for them.

As strange as the truth is, ATTRACTION is NOT triggered by being a "nice" guy.

Nice will never do it.

Of course, as you know, I never suggest that men act in an ABUSIVE way...

But if you want to get out of the "annoying" category, you MUST start BEHAVING AND COMMUNICATING DIFFERENTLY.

PREDICTABILITY is ANNOYING to women.

Being CLINGY is ANNOYING to women.

Acting like a WUSSY is ANNOYING to women.

 
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Old 06-18-2007, 09:33 PM   #13
ella
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blah blah blah... blah blah!

 
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Old 06-18-2007, 09:41 PM   #14
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Quote:
Originally Posted by sickbadthing

Because of him, I learned that I have talent again. I know that I can write now. It was just something that I did to escape before. Now, I want to see what it can do for me.
i hope someone's broken it to her by now.

 
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Old 06-18-2007, 09:46 PM   #15
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Oh, life is bigger
It's bigger than you
And you are not me
The lengths that I will go to
The distance in your eyes
Oh no, I've said too much
I set it up

(chorus)
That's me in the corner
That's me in the spotlight, I'm
Losing my religion
Trying to keep up with you
And I don't know if I can do it
Oh no, I've said too much
I haven't said enough
I thought that I heard you laughing
I thought that I heard you sing
I think I thought I saw you try

Every whisper
Of every waking hour I'm
Choosing my confessions
Trying to keep an eye on you
Like a hurt lost and blinded fool, fool
Oh no, I've said too much
I set it up
Consider this
Consider this
The hint of the century
Consider this
The slip that brought me
To my knees failed
What if all these fantasies
Come flailing around
Now I've said too much
I thought that I heard you laughing
I thought that I heard you sing
I think I thought I saw you try

But that was just a dream
That was just a dream

(repeat chorus)

But that was just a dream
Try, cry, why try?
That was just a dream
Just a dream, just a dream
Dream

 
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Old 06-18-2007, 09:50 PM   #16
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is this an REM lyrics thread now?

How're these?

Enemy sighted, enemy met, I'm addressing the Realpolitik. You've seen start and you've seen quit, I always thought of you as quick. Exhuming McCarthy (meet me at the bookburning).

 
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Old 06-18-2007, 09:51 PM   #17
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in the uk we have no punctuation but i digress


i have been dating a girl she live in california and i live in the united kingdom i am very much in love with her but she has hypomania and mood swings and is also married and even though she is unhappy she cant find the strength to leave him i feel that i am stuck in a hard place and dont know what to do even though common sense says i should let go yet i am very much in love our relationship has progressed alot yet its not getting to the next level what should i do cause all i want is her and its just not getting there the way i feel it should be and feel that she wants both men in her life but she cant have us both yet shes confused what she wants and is completely honest about this but i feel like i am stuck in such a hard place and its hurting me feeling second best

 
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Old 06-18-2007, 09:55 PM   #18
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Quote:
Originally Posted by mpp
is this an REM lyrics thread now?

How're these?

Enemy sighted, enemy met, I'm addressing the Realpolitik. You've seen start and you've seen quit, I always thought of you as quick. Exhuming McCarthy (meet me at the bookburning).

I'm sure there are a lot of guys out there that would like your input on this question.

here is something that I haven't seen addressed in your mailbag or your e-book and that is what to do when the woman you've have e-mailed or called didn't reply to the e-mail or phone call and you see them again. Two personal examples:

Example one:

I meet this girl at my job. Start doing C&F routine on her: "Why do you look so serious, are you trying to scare people away. I know inside of you there's a nice girl that's just dying to come out." She laughs and I say "That's more like it, now you don't look so scary." To make a long story short I ask this girl Friday to give me her phone number so that we can get together the next day.
She gave me her number and I called, left a message on her voice mail and she never got back to me. Saw her the following Monday (she sits right across from me) and she didn't say anything.
No reason why she didn't call me back. Nothing. I ended not talking to her. I thought that if I asked her about why she flaked she would've given me a lame excuse anyway. I haven't been giving her too much attention since.

Example two:

I go to this club on a regular basis. I saw this one girl and started dancing with her. Did some C&F routine like "Don't get too close", "I don't even know you that well". She was enjoying it. I asked her for her number before I left (she didn't have e-mail). Found out after I called the number that she gave me a wrong number. I saw her two weeks afterwards in the same club and just ignored her.

Now for my question. What should I do when I come across situations like these again? Act like it never happened and ignore them or call them on their bullshit. Sometimes I think women flake as a test to see what the men are going to do if they happen to come across them again. I know some guys will just tell them off? What have you done in these situations?

Meet me in the crowd
People, people
Throw your love around
Love me, love me
Take it into town
Happy, happy
Put it in the ground
Where the flowers grow
Gold and silver shine

(chorus)
Shiny happy people holding hands
Shiny happy people holding hands
Shiny happy people laughing

Everyone around
Love them, love them
Put it in your hands
Take it, take it
There's no time to cry
Happy, happy
Put it in your heart
Where tomorrow shines
Gold and silver shine

(repeat chorus)

Hey, here we go!

(repeat chorus 4x)

 
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Old 06-18-2007, 09:57 PM   #19
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everything everything
I'm invisible
I'm invisible
An eraser of love
An eraser of love
Why don't you call me I feel like flying in two?
Why don't you call me I feel like flying in two?
I'm invisible
I'm invisible
An eraser of love
An eraser of love
An eraser of love
An eraser of love
Why don't you call me I feel like flying in two?
Why don't you call me I feel like flying in two?
An eraser of love
An eraser of love

I scream I scream I scream so much
You know what I mean
This electric stream
And my tears and leave with wires and energy
its my machine this is my beautiful dream
I'm a hurtin' no one
Hurtin' no one
Hurtin' no one
Hurtin' no one
I wanna give you everything
I wanna give you energy
I wanna give a good thing
I wanna give you everything
Everything everything
Everything everything
One final scream of love
who could climb this high
She looks beautiful like a child
i feel tears and I wanna scream
You know what I mean
This is hurtin' no one
An eraser of love

Why don't you call me I feel like flying in two?
Why don't you call me I feel like flying in two?
An eraser of love
An eraser of love

 
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Old 06-18-2007, 10:02 PM   #20
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Quote:
Originally Posted by Halber Mensch
everything everything
I'm invisible
I'm invisible
An eraser of love
An eraser of love
Why don't you call me I feel like flying in two?
Why don't you call me I feel like flying in two?
I'm invisible
I'm invisible
An eraser of love
An eraser of love
An eraser of love
An eraser of love
Why don't you call me I feel like flying in two?
Why don't you call me I feel like flying in two?
An eraser of love
An eraser of love

I scream I scream I scream so much
You know what I mean
This electric stream
And my tears and leave with wires and energy
its my machine this is my beautiful dream
I'm a hurtin' no one
Hurtin' no one
Hurtin' no one
Hurtin' no one
I wanna give you everything
I wanna give you energy
I wanna give a good thing
I wanna give you everything
Everything everything
Everything everything
One final scream of love
who could climb this high
She looks beautiful like a child
i feel tears and I wanna scream
You know what I mean
This is hurtin' no one
An eraser of love

Why don't you call me I feel like flying in two?
Why don't you call me I feel like flying in two?
An eraser of love
An eraser of love

the FIRST thing you should do is lean back and give her space.

Most guys want to try and "corner the market" as quickly as they can when they meet a woman that they like, and try to convince the woman to be exclusive immediately.

In my experience this is a BAD idea for a few reasons:

1. You don't know her very well yet. I make it a personal rule to not get into a "boyfriend/girlfriend" relationship with a woman for at LEAST 3-6 months. I want to get to know a woman before I'm interested in being attached.

I once met a really hot girl for a cup of tea, and she told me that she likes to date a guy for a couple of weeks, then form a monogamous, long-term, boyfriend and girlfriend relationship with him, then sleep together.

This was all at the first meeting I had with her over a cup of tea.

I told her that she was crazy, and that I'd never get into a boyfriend/girlfriend relationship with some woman that I'd only known for a couple of weeks... and then I left.

I had images of coming home in a few weeks and finding her going through my closets and saying "Who's is this?"

Get to know a woman before you make your decision!

2. If a woman is the type that will get into a serious relationship with you quickly, then there's probably a good chance that SHE has some issues.

The last thing you need is a clingy woman that is out looking around for a man to complete her and give her life meaning...

So you're doing the right thing. Nice.

If you want to pursue a relationship relationship, then you might want to actually start doing a sweet, romantic thing or two every once in awhile.

A card, a flower, etc. is all it takes to communicate your message. But use them wisely, and don't start acting like a needy wussy!

Also, when you start saying things like "I was thinking about you", "I really like spending time with you", and other lovey talk it says the same thing.

Again, use sparingly... especially with independent women!

And ultimately, if you want to actually have a real, honest-to-goodness relationship, then tell her how you feel about her.

If you think she's worth having a relationship with, then you're going to need to take the risk at some point of telling her.

Follow me, dont follow me
Ive got my spine, Ive got my orange crush
Collar me, dont collar me
Ive got my spine, Ive got my orange crush
We are agents of the free
Ive had my fun and now its time to
Serve your conscience overseas (over me, not over me)
Coming in fast, over me

(repeat verse)

High on the roof,
Thin the blood,
Another one ____ on the waves tonight,
Comin in, youre home

Wed circle and wed circle and wed circle to stop and consider and
Centered on the pavement stacked up all the trucks jacked up and
Our wheels in slush and orange crush in pocket and all this here county
Hell any county its just like heaven here and I was remembering and i
Was just in a differnet county and all then this whirlybird that i
Headed for I had my goggles pulled off I knew it all I knew every back
Road and every truck stop

 
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Old 06-18-2007, 10:14 PM   #21
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this thread blows

 
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Old 06-18-2007, 10:15 PM   #22
bardy
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Quote:
Originally Posted by Halber Mensch
everything everything
I'm invisible
I'm invisible
An eraser of love
An eraser of love
Why don't you call me I feel like flying in two?
Why don't you call me I feel like flying in two?
I'm invisible
I'm invisible
An eraser of love
An eraser of love
An eraser of love
An eraser of love
Why don't you call me I feel like flying in two?
Why don't you call me I feel like flying in two?
An eraser of love
An eraser of love

I scream I scream I scream so much
You know what I mean
This electric stream
And my tears and leave with wires and energy
its my machine this is my beautiful dream
I'm a hurtin' no one
Hurtin' no one
Hurtin' no one
Hurtin' no one
I wanna give you everything
I wanna give you energy
I wanna give a good thing
I wanna give you everything
Everything everything
Everything everything
One final scream of love
who could climb this high
She looks beautiful like a child
i feel tears and I wanna scream
You know what I mean
This is hurtin' no one
An eraser of love

Why don't you call me I feel like flying in two?
Why don't you call me I feel like flying in two?
An eraser of love
An eraser of love
what a moron

 
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Old 06-18-2007, 10:17 PM   #23
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brady what are you doing??????????

 
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Old 06-18-2007, 10:18 PM   #24
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I dont know juliooooooooooooo

 
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Old 06-18-2007, 10:19 PM   #25
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Quote:
Originally Posted by Effloresce
this thread blows
your contribution to this thread has been above acceptable and you offer intelligent feed back as always!

Got a phone call from Brandi for the first time in weeks. Scared the shit out of me, as I had almost given up on her ever calling me again, since she does it so infrequently. I tortured her with descriptions of delicious buffalo beef. She wasn't amused, but I took great pleasure in it. When she finally gets up here, I'm going to have to make sure to stock up. We're talking five pounds, easy, of buffalo meat. Mmmm. Buffalo meat.

If you still haven't tried it, you're probably a terrorist, or at least a vegetarian, which is just about as bad in my book. I feel like I should reiterate a point that I've been making to my friends - for some reason, the women seem to take particular offense to this one, but hear me out. I would eat (cooked) baby seals if they tasted good. I don't care how cute they are; if they tasted good, I'd be sitting down at the table with a fork and knife ready and waiting. Determining your willingness to eat an animal based on how cute it looks while it's alive is total bullshit, so stop doing it. Base your willingness to eat animals on how good they taste. (For example, I don't think that buffalo are significantly far from cows on the cuteness scale, but I'll tell you what.... I'd eat buffalo over cow any day of the week, that's for damned sure.)

The only depressing thing about buffalo meat is the price tag. I mean, it is definitely well worth the $5/pound price, but I wish it were cheaper anyway. Anyway, I'm about to collapse, as it's getting light outside again, which means that it's time for me to go to sleep.

 
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Old 06-18-2007, 10:22 PM   #26
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In my younger and more vulnerable years my father gave me some advice that I’ve been turning over in my mind ever since.

“Whenever you feel like criticizing any one,” he told me, “just remember that all the people in this world haven’t had the advantages that you’ve had.”

He didn’t say any more, but we’ve always been unusually communicative in a reserved way, and I understood that he meant a great deal more than that. In consequence, I’m inclined to reserve all judgments, a habit that has opened up many curious natures to me and also made me the victim of not a few veteran bores. The abnormal mind is quick to detect and attach itself to this quality when it appears in a normal person, and so it came about that in college I was unjustly accused of being a politician, because I was privy to the secret griefs of wild, unknown men. Most of the confidences were unsought—frequently I have feigned sleep, preoccupation, or a hostile levity when I realized by some unmistakable sign that an intimate revelation was quivering on the horizon; for the intimate revelations of young men, or at least the terms in which they express them, are usually plagiaristic and marred by obvious suppressions. Reserving judgments is a matter of infinite hope. I am still a little afraid of missing something if I forget that, as my father snobbishly suggested, and I snobbishly repeat, a sense of the fundamental decencies is parcelled out unequally at birth.

And, after boasting this way of my tolerance, I come to the admission that it has a limit. Conduct may be founded on the hard rock or the wet marshes, but after a certain point I don’t care what it’s founded on. When I came back from the East last autumn I felt that I wanted the world to be in uniform and at a sort of moral attention forever; I wanted no more riotous excursions with privileged glimpses into the human heart. Only Gatsby, the man who gives his name to this book, was exempt from my reaction—Gatsby, who represented everything for which I have an unaffected scorn. If personality is an unbroken series of successful gestures, then there was something gorgeous about him, some heightened sensitivity to the promises of life, as if he were related to one of those intricate machines that register earthquakes ten thousand miles away. This responsiveness had nothing to do with that flabby impressionability which is dignified under the name of the “creative temperament”—it was an extraordinary gift for hope, a romantic readiness such as I have never found in any other person and which it is not likely I shall ever find again. No—Gatsby turned out all right at the end; it is what preyed on Gatsby, what foul dust floated in the wake of his dreams that temporarily closed out my interest in the abortive sorrows and short-winded elations of men.

My family have been prominent, well-to-do people in this Middle Western city for three generations. The Carraways are something of a clan, and we have a tradition that we’re descended from the Dukes of Buccleuch, but the actual founder of my line was my grandfather’s brother, who came here in fifty-one, sent a substitute to the Civil War, and started the wholesale hardware business that my father carries on to-day.

I never saw this great-uncle, but I’m supposed to look like him—with special reference to the rather hard-boiled painting that hangs in father’s office I graduated from New Haven in 1915, just a quarter of a century after my father, and a little later I participated in that delayed Teutonic migration known as the Great War. I enjoyed the counter-raid so thoroughly that I came back restless. Instead of being the warm centre of the world, the Middle West now seemed like the ragged edge of the universe—so I decided to go East and learn the bond business. Everybody I knew was in the bond business, so I supposed it could support one more single man. All my aunts and uncles talked it over as if they were choosing a prep school for me, and finally said, “Why—ye-es,” with very grave, hesitant faces. Father agreed to finance me for a year, and after various delays I came East, permanently, I thought, in the spring of twenty-two.

The practical thing was to find rooms in the city, but it was a warm season, and I had just left a country of wide lawns and friendly trees, so when a young man at the office suggested that we take a house together in a commuting town, it sounded like a great idea. He found the house, a weather-beaten cardboard bungalow at eighty a month, but at the last minute the firm ordered him to Washington, and I went out to the country alone. I had a dog—at least I had him for a few days until he ran away—and an old Dodge and a Finnish woman, who made my bed and cooked breakfast and muttered Finnish wisdom to herself over the electric stove.

It was lonely for a day or so until one morning some man, more recently arrived than I, stopped me on the road.

“How do you get to West Egg village?” he asked helplessly.

I told him. And as I walked on I was lonely no longer. I was a guide, a pathfinder, an original settler. He had casually conferred on me the freedom of the neighborhood.

And so with the sunshine and the great bursts of leaves growing on the trees, just as things grow in fast movies, I had that familiar conviction that life was beginning over again with the summer.

There was so much to read, for one thing, and so much fine health to be pulled down out of the young breath-giving air. I bought a dozen volumes on banking and credit and investment securities, and they stood on my shelf in red and gold like new money from the mint, promising to unfold the shining secrets that only Midas and Morgan and Maecenas knew. And I had the high intention of reading many other books besides. I was rather literary in college—one year I wrote a series of very solemn and obvious editorials for the “Yale News”—and now I was going to bring back all such things into my life and become again that most limited of all specialists, the “well-rounded man.” This isn’t just an epigram—life is much more successfully looked at from a single window, after all.

It was a matter of chance that I should have rented a house in one of the strangest communities in North America. It was on that slender riotous island which extends itself due east of New York—and where there are, among other natural curiosities, two unusual formations of land. Twenty miles from the city a pair of enormous eggs, identical in contour and separated only by a courtesy bay, jut out into the most domesticated body of salt water in the Western hemisphere, the great wet barnyard of Long Island Sound. they are not perfect ovals—like the egg in the Columbus story, they are both crushed flat at the contact end—but their physical resemblance must be a source of perpetual confusion to the gulls that fly overhead. to the wingless a more arresting phenomenon is their dissimilarity in every particular except shape and size.

I lived at West Egg, the—well, the less fashionable of the two, though this is a most superficial tag to express the bizarre and not a little sinister contrast between them. my house was at the very tip of the egg, only fifty yards from the Sound, and squeezed between two huge places that rented for twelve or fifteen thousand a season. the one on my right was a colossal affair by any standard—it was a factual imitation of some Hotel de Ville in Normandy, with a tower on one side, spanking new under a thin beard of raw ivy, and a marble swimming pool, and more than forty acres of lawn and garden. It was Gatsby’s mansion. Or, rather, as I didn’t know Mr. Gatsby, it was a mansion inhabited by a gentleman of that name. My own house was an eyesore, but it was a small eyesore, and it had been overlooked, so I had a view of the water, a partial view of my neighbor’s lawn, and the consoling proximity of millionaires—all for eighty dollars a month.

Across the courtesy bay the white palaces of fashionable East Egg glittered along the water, and the history of the summer really begins on the evening I drove over there to have dinner with the Tom Buchanans. Daisy was my second cousin once removed, and I’d known Tom in college. And just after the war I spent two days with them in Chicago.

Her husband, among various physical accomplishments, had been one of the most powerful ends that ever played football at New Haven—a national figure in a way, one of those men who reach such an acute limited excellence at twenty-one that everything afterward savors of anti-climax. His family were enormously wealthy—even in college his freedom with money was a matter for reproach—but now he’d left Chicago and come East in a fashion that rather took your breath away: for instance, he’d brought down a string of polo ponies from Lake Forest. It was hard to realize that a man in my own generation was wealthy enough to do that.

Why they came East I don’t know. They had spent a year in France for no particular reason, and then drifted here and there unrestfully wherever people played polo and were rich together. This was a permanent move, said Daisy over the telephone, but I didn’t believe it—I had no sight into Daisy’s heart, but I felt that Tom would drift on forever seeking, a little wistfully, for the dramatic turbulence of some irrecoverable football game.

And so it happened that on a warm windy evening I drove over to East Egg to see two old friends whom I scarcely knew at all. Their house was even more elaborate than I expected, a cheerful red-and-white Georgian Colonial mansion, overlooking the bay. The lawn started at the beach and ran toward the front door for a quarter of a mile, jumping over sun-dials and brick walks and burning gardens—finally when it reached the house drifting up the side in bright vines as though from the momentum of its run. The front was broken by a line of French windows, glowing now with reflected gold and wide open to the warm windy afternoon, and Tom Buchanan in riding clothes was standing with his legs apart on the front porch.

He had changed since his New Haven years. Now he was a sturdy straw-haired man of thirty with a rather hard mouth and a supercilious manner. Two shining arrogant eyes had established dominance over his face and gave him the appearance of always leaning aggressively forward. Not even the effeminate swank of his riding clothes could hide the enormous power of that body—he seemed to fill those glistening boots until he strained the top lacing, and you could see a great pack of muscle shifting when his shoulder moved under his thin coat. It was a body capable of enormous leverage—a cruel body.

His speaking voice, a gruff husky tenor, added to the impression of fractiousness he conveyed. There was a touch of paternal contempt in it, even toward people he liked—and there were men at New Haven who had hated his guts.

“Now, don’t think my opinion on these matters is final,” he seemed to say, “just because I’m stronger and more of a man than you are.” We were in the same senior society, and while we were never intimate I always had the impression that he approved of me and wanted me to like him with some harsh, defiant wistfulness of his own.

We talked for a few minutes on the sunny porch.

“I’ve got a nice place here,” he said, his eyes flashing about restlessly.

Turning me around by one arm, he moved a broad flat hand along the front vista, including in its sweep a sunken Italian garden, a half acre of deep, pungent roses, and a snub-nosed motor-boat that bumped the tide offshore.

“It belonged to Demaine, the oil man.” He turned me around again, politely and abruptly. “We’ll go inside.”

We walked through a high hallway into a bright rosy-colored space, fragilely bound into the house by French windows at either end. The windows were ajar and gleaming white against the fresh grass outside that seemed to grow a little way into the house. A breeze blew through the room, blew curtains in at one end and out the other like pale flags, twisting them up toward the frosted wedding-cake of the ceiling, and then rippled over the wine-colored rug, making a shadow on it as wind does on the sea.

The only completely stationary object in the room was an enormous couch on which two young women were buoyed up as though upon an anchored balloon. They were both in white, and their dresses were rippling and fluttering as if they had just been blown back in after a short flight around the house. I must have stood for a few moments listening to the whip and snap of the curtains and the groan of a picture on the wall. Then there was a boom as Tom Buchanan shut the rear windows and the caught wind died out about the room, and the curtains and the rugs and the two young women ballooned slowly to the floor.

The younger of the two was a stranger to me. She was extended full length at her end of the divan, completely motionless, and with her chin raised a little, as if she were balancing something on it which was quite likely to fall. If she saw me out of the corner of her eyes she gave no hint of it—indeed, I was almost surprised into murmuring an apology for having disturbed her by coming in.

The other girl, Daisy, made an attempt to rise—she leaned slightly forward with a conscientious expression—then she laughed, an absurd, charming little laugh, and I laughed too and came forward into the room.

“I’m p-paralyzed with happiness.”

She laughed again, as if she said something very witty, and held my hand for a moment, looking up into my face, promising that there was no one in the world she so much wanted to see. That was a way she had. She hinted in a murmur that the surname of the balancing girl was Baker. (I’ve heard it said that Daisy’s murmur was only to make people lean toward her; an irrelevant criticism that made it no less charming.)

At any rate, Miss Baker’s lips fluttered, she nodded at me almost imperceptibly, and then quickly tipped her head back again—the object she was balancing had obviously tottered a little and given her something of a fright. Again a sort of apology arose to my lips. Almost any exhibition of complete self-sufficiency draws a stunned tribute from me.

I looked back at my cousin, who began to ask me questions in her low, thrilling voice. It was the kind of voice that the ear follows up and down, as if each speech is an arrangement of notes that will never be played again. Her face was sad and lovely with bright things in it, bright eyes and a bright passionate mouth, but there was an excitement in her voice that men who had cared for her found difficult to forget: a singing compulsion, a whispered “Listen,” a promise that she had done gay, exciting things just a while since and that there were gay, exciting things hovering in the next hour.

I told her how I had stopped off in Chicago for a day on my way East, and how a dozen people had sent their love through me.

“Do they miss me?” she cried ecstatically.

“The whole town is desolate. All the cars have the left rear wheel painted black as a mourning wreath, and there’s a persistent wail all night along the north shore.”

“How gorgeous! Let’s go back, Tom. To-morrow!” Then she added irrelevantly: “You ought to see the baby.”

“I’d like to.”

“She’s asleep. She’s three years old. Haven’t you ever seen her?”

“Never.”

“Well, you ought to see her. She’s—”

Tom Buchanan, who had been hovering restlessly about the room, stopped and rested his hand on my shoulder.

“What you doing, Nick?”

“I’m a bond man.”

“Who with?” I told him.

“Never heard of them,” he remarked decisively.

This annoyed me.

“You will,” I answered shortly. “You will if you stay in the East.”

“Oh, I’ll stay in the East, don’t you worry,” he said, glancing at Daisy and then back at me, as if he were alert for something more. “I’d be a God damned fool to live anywhere else.”

At this point Miss Baker said: “Absolutely!” with such suddenness that I started—it was the first word she uttered since I came into the room. Evidently it surprised her as much as it did me, for she yawned and with a series of rapid, deft movements stood up into the room.

“I’m stiff,” she complained, “I’ve been lying on that sofa for as long as I can remember.”

“Don’t look at me,” Daisy retorted. “I’ve been trying to get you to New York all afternoon.”

“No, thanks,” said Miss Baker to the four cocktails just in from the pantry, “I’m absolutely in training.”

Her host looked at her incredulously.

“You are!” He took down his drink as if it were a drop in the bottom of a glass. “How you ever get anything done is beyond me.”

I looked at Miss Baker, wondering what it was she “got done.” I enjoyed looking at her. She was a slender, small-breasted girl, with an erect carriage, which she accentuated by throwing her body backward at the shoulders like a young cadet. Her gray sun-strained eyes looked back at me with polite reciprocal curiosity out of a wan, charming, discontented face. It occurred to me now that I had seen her, or a picture of her, somewhere before.

“You live in West Egg,” she remarked contemptuously. “I know somebody there.”

“I don’t know a single—”

“You must know Gatsby.”

“Gatsby?” demanded Daisy. “What Gatsby?”

Before I could reply that he was my neighbor dinner was announced; wedging his tense arm imperatively under mine, Tom Buchanan compelled me from the room as though he were moving a checker to another square.

Slenderly, languidly, their hands set lightly on their hips, the two young women preceded us out onto a rosy-colored porch, open toward the sunset, where four candles flickered on the table in the diminished wind.

“Why candles?” objected Daisy, frowning. She snapped them out with her fingers. “In two weeks it’ll be the longest day in the year.” She looked at us all radiantly. “Do you always watch for the longest day of the year and then miss it? I always watch for the longest day in the year and then miss it.”

“We ought to plan something,” yawned Miss Baker, sitting down at the table as if she were getting into bed.

“All right,” said Daisy. “What’ll we plan?” She turned to me helplessly: “What do people plan?”

Before I could answer her eyes fastened with an awed expression on her little finger.

“Look!” she complained. “I hurt it.”

We all looked—the knuckle was black and blue.

“You did it, Tom,” she said accusingly. “I know you didn’t mean to, but you did do it. That’s what I get for marrying a brute of a man, a great, big, hulking physical specimen of a—”

“I hate that word hulking,” objected Tom crossly, “even in kidding.”

“Hulking,” insisted Daisy.

Sometimes she and Miss Baker talked at once, unobtrusively and with a bantering inconsequence that was never quite chatter, that was as cool as their white dresses and their impersonal eyes in the absence of all desire. They were here, and they accepted Tom and me, making only a polite pleasant effort to entertain or to be entertained. They knew that presently dinner would be over and a little later the evening too would be over and casually put away. It was sharply different from the West, where an evening was hurried from phase to phase toward its close, in a continually disappointed anticipation or else in sheer nervous dread of the moment itself.

“You make me feel uncivilized, Daisy,” I confessed on my second glass of corky but rather impressive claret. “Can’t you talk about crops or something?”

I meant nothing in particular by this remark, but it was taken up in an unexpected way.

“Civilization’s going to pieces,” broke out Tom violently. “I’ve gotten to be a terrible pessimist about things. Have you read ‘The Rise of the Colored Empires’ by this man Goddard?”

“Why, no,” I answered, rather surprised by his tone.

“Well, it’s a fine book, and everybody ought to read it. The idea is if we don’t look out the white race will be—will be utterly submerged. It’s all scientific stuff; it’s been proved.”

“Tom’s getting very profound,” said Daisy, with an expression of unthoughtful sadness. “He reads deep books with long words in them. What was that word we—”

“Well, these books are all scientific,” insisted Tom, glancing at her impatiently. “This fellow has worked out the whole thing. It’s up to us, who are the dominant race, to watch out or these other races will have control of things.”

“We’ve got to beat them down,” whispered Daisy, winking ferociously toward the fervent sun.

“You ought to live in California—” began Miss Baker, but Tom interrupted her by shifting heavily in his chair.

“This idea is that we’re Nordics. I am, and you are, and you are, and—” After an infinitesimal hesitation he *******d Daisy with a slight nod, and she winked at me again. “—And we’ve produced all the things that go to make civilization—oh, science and art, and all that. Do you see?”

There was something pathetic in his concentration, as if his complacency, more acute than of old, was not enough to him any more. When, almost immediately, the telephone rang inside and the butler left the porch Daisy seized upon the momentary interruption and leaned toward me.

“I’ll tell you a family secret,” she whispered enthusiastically. “It’s about the butler’s nose. Do you want to hear about the butler’s nose?”

“That’s why I came over to-night.”

“Well, he wasn’t always a butler; he used to be the silver polisher for some people in New York that had a silver service for two hundred people. He had to polish it from morning till night, until finally it began to affect his nose—”

“Things went from bad to worse,” suggested Miss Baker.

“Yes. Things went from bad to worse, until finally he had to give up his position.”

For a moment the last sunshine fell with romantic affection upon her glowing face; her voice compelled me forward breathlessly as I listened—then the glow faded, each light deserting her with lingering regret, like children leaving a pleasant street at dusk.

The butler came back and murmured something close to Tom’s ear, whereupon Tom frowned, pushed back his chair, and without a word went inside. As if his absence quickened something within her, Daisy leaned forward again, her voice glowing and singing.

“I love to see you at my table, Nick. You remind me of a—of a rose, an absolute rose. Doesn’t he?” She turned to Miss Baker for confirmation. “An absolute rose?”

This was untrue. I am not even faintly like a rose. She was only extemporizing, but a stirring warmth flowed from her, as if her heart was trying to come out to you concealed in one of those breathless, thrilling words. Then suddenly she threw her napkin on the table and excused herself and went into the house.

Miss Baker and I exchanged a short glance consciously devoid of meaning. I was about to speak when she sat up alertly and said “Sh!” in a warning voice. A subdued impassioned murmur was audible in the room beyond, and Miss Baker leaned forward unashamed, trying to hear. The murmur trembled on the verge of coherence, sank down, mounted excitedly, and then ceased altogether.

“This Mr. Gatsby you spoke of is my neighbor—” I said.

“Don’t talk. I want to hear what happens.”

“Is something happening?” I inquired innocently.

“You mean to say you don’t know?” said Miss Baker, honestly surprised. “I thought everybody knew.”

“I don’t.”

“Why—” she said hesitantly, “Tom’s got some woman in New York.”

“Got some woman?” I repeated blankly.

Miss Baker nodded.

“She might have the decency not to telephone him at dinner time. Don’t you think?”

Almost before I had grasped her meaning there was the flutter of a dress and the crunch of leather boots, and Tom and Daisy were back at the table.

“It couldn’t be helped!” cried Daisy with tense gayety.

She sat down, glanced searchingly at Miss Baker and then at me, and continued, “I looked outdoors for a minute, and it’s very romantic outdoors. There’s a bird on the lawn that I think must be a nightingale come over on the Cunard or White Star Line. He’s singing away—” Her voice sang: “It’s romantic, isn’t it, Tom?”

“Very romantic,” he said, and then miserably to me: “If it’s light enough after dinner, I want to take you down to the stables.”

The telephone rang inside, startlingly, and as Daisy shook her head decisively at Tom the subject of the stables, in fact all subjects, vanished into air. Among the broken fragments of the last five minutes at table I remember the candles being lit again, pointlessly, and I was conscious of wanting to look squarely at every one, and yet to avoid all eyes. I couldn’t guess what Daisy and Tom were thinking, but I doubt if even Miss Baker, who seemed to have mastered a certain hardy scepticism, was able utterly to put this fifth guest’s shrill metallic urgency out of mind. To a certain temperament the situation might have seemed intriguing—my own instinct was to telephone immediately for the police.

The horses, needless to say, were not mentioned again. Tom and Miss Baker, with several feet of twilight between them, strolled back into the library, as if to a vigil beside a perfectly tangible body, while, trying to look pleasantly interested and a little deaf, I followed Daisy around a chain of connecting verandas to the porch in front. In its deep gloom we sat down side by side on a wicker settee.

Daisy took her face in her hands as if feeling its lovely shape, and her eyes moved gradually out into the velvet dusk. I saw that turbulent emotions possessed her, so I asked what I thought would be some sedative questions about her little girl.

“We don’t know each other very well, Nick,” she said suddenly. “Even if we are cousins. You didn’t come to my wedding.”

“I wasn’t back from the war.”

“That’s true.” She hesitated. “Well, I’ve had a very bad time, Nick, and I’m pretty cynical about everything.”

Evidently she had reason to be. I waited but she didn’t say any more, and after a moment I returned rather feebly to the subject of her daughter.

“I suppose she talks, and—eats, and everything.”

“Oh, yes.” She looked at me absently. “Listen, Nick; let me tell you what I said when she was born. Would you like to hear?”

“Very much.”

“It’ll show you how I’ve gotten to feel about—things. Well, she was less than an hour old and Tom was God knows where. I woke up out of the ether with an utterly abandoned feeling, and asked the nurse right away if it was a boy or a girl. She told me it was a girl, and so I turned my head away and wept. ‘All right,’ I said, ‘I’m glad it’s a girl. And I hope she’ll be a fool—that’s the best thing a girl can be in this world, a beautiful little fool.’

“You see I think everything’s terrible anyhow,” she went on in a convinced way. “Everybody thinks so—the most advanced people. And I know. I’ve been everywhere and seen everything and done everything.” Her eyes flashed around her in a defiant way, rather like Tom’s, and she laughed with thrilling scorn. “Sophisticated—God, I’m sophisticated!”

The instant her voice broke off, ceasing to compel my attention, my belief, I felt the basic insincerity of what she had said. It made me uneasy, as though the whole evening had been a trick of some sort to exact a contributory emotion from me. I waited, and sure enough, in a moment she looked at me with an absolute smirk on her lovely face, as if she had asserted her membership in a rather distinguished secret society to which she and Tom belonged.

Inside, the crimson room bloomed with light. Tom and Miss Baker sat at either end of the long couch and she read aloud to him from the “Saturday Evening Post”—the words, murmurous and uninflected, running together in a soothing tune. The lamp-light, bright on his boots and dull on the autumn-leaf yellow of her hair, glinted along the paper as she turned a page with a flutter of slender muscles in her arms.

When we came in she held us silent for a moment with a lifted hand.

“To be continued,” she said, tossing the magazine on the table, “in our very next issue.”

Her body asserted itself with a restless movement of her knee, and she stood up.

“Ten o’clock,” she remarked, apparently finding the time on the ceiling. “Time for this good girl to go to bed.”

“Jordan’s going to play in the tournament to-morrow,” explained Daisy, “over at Westchester.”

“Oh—you’re Jordan Baker.”

I knew now why her face was familiar—its pleasing contemptuous expression had looked out at me from many rotogravure pictures of the sporting life at Asheville and Hot Springs and Palm Beach. I had heard some story of her too, a critical, unpleasant story, but what it was I had forgotten long ago.

“Good night,” she said softly. “Wake me at eight, won’t you.”

“If you’ll get up.”

“I will. Good night, Mr. Carraway. See you anon.”

“Of course you will,” confirmed Daisy. “In fact I think I’ll arrange a marriage. Come over often, Nick, and I’ll sort of—oh—fling you together. You know—lock you up accidentally in linen closets and push you out to sea in a boat, and all that sort of thing—”

“Good night,” called Miss Baker from the stairs. “I haven’t heard a word.”

“She’s a nice girl,” said Tom after a moment. “They oughtn’t to let her run around the country this way.”

“Who oughtn’t to?” inquired Daisy coldly.

“Her family.”

“Her family is one aunt about a thousand years old. Besides, Nick’s going to look after her, aren’t you, Nick? She’s going to spend lots of week-ends out here this summer. I think the home influence will be very good for her.”

Daisy and Tom looked at each other for a moment in silence.

“Is she from New York?” I asked quickly.

“From Louisville. Our white girlhood was passed together there. Our beautiful white—”

“Did you give Nick a little heart to heart talk on the veranda?” demanded Tom suddenly.

“Did I?” She looked at me. “I can’t seem to remember, but I think we talked about the Nordic race. Yes, I’m sure we did. It sort of crept up on us and first thing you know—”

“Don’t believe everything you hear, Nick,” he advised me.

I said lightly that I had heard nothing at all, and a few minutes later I got up to go home. They came to the door with me and stood side by side in a cheerful square of light. As I started my motor Daisy peremptorily called: “Wait!

“I forgot to ask you something, and it’s important. We heard you were engaged to a girl out West.”

“That’s right,” corroborated Tom kindly. “We heard that you were engaged.”

“It’s libel. I’m too poor.”

“But we heard it,” insisted Daisy, surprising me by opening up again in a flower-like way. “We heard it from three people, so it must be true.”

Of course I knew what they were referring to, but I wasn’t even vaguely engaged. The fact that gossip had published the banns was one of the reasons I had come East. You can’t stop going with an old friend on account of rumors, and on the other hand I had no intention of being rumored into marriage.

Their interest rather touched me and made them less remotely rich—nevertheless, I was confused and a little disgusted as I drove away. It seemed to me that the thing for Daisy to do was to rush out of the house, child in arms—but apparently there were no such intentions in her head. As for Tom, the fact that he “had some woman in New York” was really less surprising than that he had been depressed by a book. Something was making him nibble at the edge of stale ideas as if his sturdy physical egotism no longer nourished his peremptory heart.

Already it was deep summer on roadhouse roofs and in front of wayside garages, where new red gas-pumps sat out in pools of light, and when I reached my estate at West Egg I ran the car under its shed and sat for a while on an abandoned grass roller in the yard. The wind had blown off, leaving a loud, bright night, with wings beating in the trees and a persistent organ sound as the full bellows of the earth blew the frogs full of life. The silhouette of a moving cat wavered across the moonlight, and turning my head to watch it, I saw that I was not alone—fifty feet away a figure had emerged from the shadow of my neighbor’s mansion and was standing with his hands in his pockets regarding the silver pepper of the stars. Something in his leisurely movements and the secure position of his feet upon the lawn suggested that it was Mr. Gatsby himself, come out to determine what share was his of our local heavens.
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i mean if she didnt want to be buried, raised, and killed over and over again she shouldnt have worn that miniskirt

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Old 06-18-2007, 10:24 PM   #27
Nimrod's Son
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Originally Posted by julie
wait should i read this? is this about me? shit.
in summary:
Quote:
Originally Posted by sickbadthing
I guess in all I'm scared to lose this woman. She's pretty much perfect
If you break his heart, I'll kill you. He was mine first.

 
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