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Posts posted by Ron

  1. I WANT THE INDIES TO WIN (kick it kick itkick it kick itkick it kick itkick it kick itkick it kick itkick it kick itkick it kick itkick it kick itkick it kick it)

  2. Production is great, lyrics + melody are just not there. It lacks a catchy hook and just kinda drags on and on. It's one of those songs that after listening to for just a little bit sounds like you've been listening to for hours.

    Boring, underwhelming, he's more talented than this shit, etc. :storm:


    • Like 4
  3. It didn't really occur to me until I clicked on this thread that 2017 was the best year I've had in some time.

    2010 - Not too hot. Retrospectively I glamorize this year for being so simple and having no true problems in my life. Still, this was the only year I ever dealt with bullying (my former best friend who I got into a fight with lol).

    2011 - I remember the start of 7th grade just felt better than 6th grade. I also made a new best friend. A better year than 2010.

    2012 - A phenomenal year, particularly September onward. First time falling in love.

    2013 - Started off great and continued. High school kinda hit me like a brick, but I look back on those struggles fondly. Many of the new people I met became my best friends. I never had to be "the new kid" because I never moved to a new school, but this was about as close to "new kid" status that I got. My friend group was 100% different at the start of high school than it was in middle school. It felt like I had nobody for a short while.

    2014 - Good year. Went to New York and the East coast, a great trip. That was one of the best summers ever.

    2015 - Junior year was a good ass year. Lost my aunt to stage 4 lung cancer in April and that was fucking hard. Overall, had a great group of friends around me.

    2016 - Great year. Applied to colleges. Internships.

    2017 - Thus far, a good year. Had some ups and downs, breakups and new loves, graduated high school, started college, and experience growth in myself that I never had experienced before. This was the year I felt like I really became fearless again after feeling so insecure after starting middle school. I started seeing myself doing things I never ever thought I'd do and seeing changes in my life that are examples of the progress I've made as a person. So, so, so, so excited for 2018 and what it will bring.

    • Like 1
  4. Might get some flack for this but w/e

    Personally – again, PERSONALLY, as in *my* personal view – I don't agree with sex change surgeries. I believe you're born male or female. It's insane, in my mind, to shell out money to change your plumbing. If you want to cross dress or become as feminine/masculine as possible, I completely support that. But changing your parts? I just don't get it.

    That being said, I ultimately don't care what other people do with their $ and anybody trying to hinder transgender rights is dumb af lol like the whole bathroom controversy is sooooooo so so so so dumb and really is just a conduit for right-wing hate. 

  5. 23 hours ago, crushingmayhem said:

    You can like whoever you like. Weight shouldn't matter to anyone who is seeking a relationship or being accepted by others. The ones that think fat people are not to be dealt with are sad individuals who don't appreciate a person by their personality and beliefs. Losing weight is not always the right way to find acceptance, even though weighting less can potentially make you healthier. People's tastes vary, there are some that don't mind your weight when seeking a friend but others do.

    You can lose weight by following a daily routine of abstaining from eating and drinking water, you don't have to overwork yourself through sometimes painful exercise. Even if your BMI is slightly above average you can still be healthy, its wrong to say that you have greater health risks by just being slightly above the average ranking. I always think its the genes that make you more and/or less immune to diseases, it varies from person to person.

    At the risk of sounding like a dick, I disagree (to an extent).

    I don't agree with the school of thought that anybody who isn't romantically interested in somebody because of a facet of their exterior (whether it be their weight, height, skin color, eye color, hair color, body build, physical fitness – whatever the case may be) is automatically "too judgmental" (and just as a sidebar, I'm not saying that you or anyone in this topic said that, just a generalization of what I've seen others say).

    If somebody isn't into fat people, I don't see the problem? As in in a romantic way. Everybody has their tastes in dating, and if someone isn't looking to date an overweight person, then I don't see an issue with that, in the same way I don't see an issue with someone who isn't really into blondes or maybe someone who is more attracted to Latinas than an African-American.

    Again, in my view, this ONLY applies to romantic interests. Nobody should ever be discriminated against because they are overweight (or for any other reason). I understand the sentiment behind "Weight shouldn't matter in a relationship," but the truth (whether anybody wants to admit it or not) is that is does.

    And to be honest, it works the reverse way as well. Some people are into people who are curvy and on the chubby side. Would they also be considered assholes in the same way the "I'm not really into chubby people" persons are?

    • Like 3
  6. ^my thoughts

    Being fat isn't something somebody should be ridiculed for, but being fat isn't just "part of who I am" as so many people claim – it's something you can change with exercise (which everyone should be doing) and not eating gluttonously.

    At the end of the day, however, everyone has the right to make their own decisions and if they choose to live that lifestyle, that's 100% within their rights to do so and nobody else can force them to try to be healthy. 

    • Like 3

    Ep was a girl I met in high school. She just appeared one day. She was lanky and had curly brown hair, beautiful eyes that melted your heart, and the slightest freckles. You couldn’t quite tell what her ethnicity was, but there was an exotic quality to her. That quality drew you in, like a magnet. It made you want to talk to her.

    So I did. One day after our 2nd period trig class, I’d talked to her. She had spoken English with an accent, confirming my suspicions that she was from another country, and was surprisingly shy. I don’t know why I had expected her beauty to entail a confident personality. Anything she said tended to whoosh out of her lips as a whisper. I leaned in to her whenever she spoke, otherwise I wouldn’t have been able to hear. She made no effort to speak up, which bugged me a bit at first, but what are you gonna do?

    There was a charisma to her. Something mysterious. She didn’t say much, and the fact that when she did, it was hardly audible contributed to this bizarre aura that hung over her. I’d started sitting with her at lunch compulsively and my friends asked why. I realized I didn’t have an answer. Something was just pulling me to her and I couldn’t identify what that thing was.

    After about a week of sitting with her, it occurred to me one night just before I was going to bed that I didn’t know anything about her.

    I had spent a full week with this girl and it’d been mostly me talking and her listening. Whenever she did speak, it was to ask a question, or to offer a triviality or blanket statement. She did happen to have a whimsical sense of humor that came off as childlike and innocent in her quiet tone. Still, nothing she said revealed anything about herself and I decided that night that I would probe a bit farther.

    The next day, I asked the simple question, “Where are you from?”

    Her eyes narrowed and she said nothing.


    Again, she said nothing. I looked down awkwardly and picked at my food.

    “So, uh, do you –” I started.

    “I don’t know where I’m from.”

    My eyes darted to hers, but now she was looking at her food. Thousands of thoughts flooded my head. Is she an orphan? A criminal? Does she have amnesia? How could she not know where she’s from? Is she a refugee? Why is her name Ep?

    “You don’t know where you’re from?” I finally settled on saying.

    She shook her head ever so slightly.

    “Why is that?”

    “What do you mean ‘why is that?’” she said in a cutting tone, with her voice raised for the first time. She almost got to a conversational level, realized how loud she’d gotten, and immediately shrank back into her chair.

    “Well, I, uh… I just don’t understand, I guess.”

    “I don’t know where I’m from.”

    “Yeah, but like… you just don’t remember?”

    “I’m not sure.”

    “Don’t your parents know?”

    She hesitated. “I’ve got to go.” She tried to beeline to the bathrooms, but I grabbed her wrist.

    “Wait,” I said.

    I saw now that her eyes were now filled with fear.

    “Please don’t go,” I added. “Just talk with me.”

    Glancing back at her seat and then at me, she slowly resettled and composed herself.

    “I don’t have parents,” she said.

    There was another long pause. I was just about to ask another question when she added abruptly, “But I have God. I talk to Him.”

    I wasn’t totally sure how to interpret that one.

    “Like, praying?”

    She shook her head. “No. He actually speaks to me.”

    “But in, like, a Christian way.”

    “No. I hear His voice… like how I hear your voice right now.”

    I squinted. What the hell did that mean?

    “And what does He say?”

    Ep bit her lip.

    “I don’t know if I’m supposed to say.”

    “Why wouldn’t you be able to?”

    “Because… it’s… I don’t know. It’s between us.”

    “You can’t tell me anything He’s said?”

    Again, she gnawed her lip. The way she was sitting told me she was incredibly uncomfortable. I was starting to think she was crazy.

    “Well, He’s told me I’m not from here. He just won’t tell me from where… to answer your earlier question.”

    “Not from here as in not from Casselbury? Or the United States, you mean?”

    She shook her head. “Not from here.”

    It hit me then that she meant she wasn’t from Earth. At that point, I dismissed her as a nutjob. Maybe she genuinely believed she was some celestial being or angel or whatever, but that clearly wasn’t true, she was flesh like me, and so I made the decision to get her some help. Thankfully, the bell rang shortly after she made that insane claim and I went to one of the school counselors and reported what had happened.

    Ep hung on my mind for the rest of the day. Something about the encounter had rattled me. It reminded me of when I’d visited my Uncle Bobby in the ICU a few years prior. He’d slammed head-on into a motorcycle and it didn’t look like he was gonna make it. Entering that hospital felt like entering another world, and then seeing my uncle laying there… it didn’t seem like him. And then, in the midst of being doped up and out like a rock, he suddenly started to talk. Not crystal clear, in a mumbled drawl, but still clear enough to make out words. “I see it,” he said three times. “I see it… I see it now.” Doctors said it was normal for patients having just undergone a traumatic experience. But the incongruity between my uncle before the crash and after the crash was mindnumbing to me. Uncle Bobby had survived and although he walked with a limp, every time I saw him thereafter, something was off about him.

    Like Ep. Something was off with her, and that’s what was persisting in my mind about her – she had a mental issue. And it horrified me.

    I awoke the next morning, made cereal, got dressed… the usual. Ep wasn’t yet on my mind. Almost as though I’d forgotten about her, that I’d never met her.

    I didn’t see her at school that day. I brushed it off.

    The day after that, she was also conspicuously missing. Alright, she’s probably sick.

    Then she was gone Friday.

    And then Monday.


    Finally, on Wednesday, I went back to the counselor who I’d reported Ep’s case to.

    “Ms. Wilkes, do you know where Ep’s been? She hasn’t been at school for over a week.”

    My counselor looked at me quizzically. “Sorry, who?”

    “Ep,” I said. “Ep… uh.” I realized I didn’t know her last name. Ms. Wilkes stared at me.

    “I don’t know who that is,” Ms. Wilkes said. “You said her name is Ep?”

    I nodded, my throat suddenly dry. Ms. Wilkes turned to her computer, tapped two letters and hit “Enter.” Her brow furrowed.

    “I don’t have an Ep here, honey,” she said. “Are you sure that’s her full name? Maybe Ep is her nickname?”

    It hadn’t even occurred to me that Ep might not be her real name.

    “Is there any other way to find her on there?” I said, nodding to the computer.

    “Um… just ID pictures, but that’s over 2,500 pictures to look through, hon. Do you know any classes she had?”

    “Oh, yes! 2nd period trig! Mr. Drylie.”

    Again Wilkes typed. She scanned the class list, mumbling the names of students under her breath as she went.

    She shook her head. “Nobody named Ep in this class, and class history shows nobody named Ep was ever enrolled in 2nd period trig. Closest is an Ella Manning…. Is that her?” She turned her screen to show the ID picture of my classmate Ella Manning, a blonde ponytailed girl full of acne. Not Ep.

    I shook my head dejectedly, confused. I thanked Ms. Wilkes and left.

    Ep began to consume my mind. Who was this girl? I had no way of contacting her. I couldn’t report her missing, because was she actually missing? Or was she just a nomad orphan shifting from place to place?

    Another two weeks went by. Ep’s hold on my mind began to loosen and one early Tuesday morning, I was able to make my cereal without her wandering through my brain. Then I turned on the TV and the headline flickered “17 year old girl found dead in river.” A police sketch of the unidentified dead girl flashed on the left side of the screen.

    An unidentified dead girl that was unmistakably Ep.

    • Like 1
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