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#1 |
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FFR Player
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Not too many people seem to post original stories on this thread. Last I saw was MalReynold's "A Short Play." Why I'm bringing this up is because I really enjoyed reading what he had written. It's just too bad that hardly anyone posts their stories. This thread is my plan to try and change this.
]Basically post a story of yours on this thread. I'll go first: Because I'm that sort of person, I need to say that this is a rough draft; it has not been edited once. Also, it was written in one night, and I was lazy on the title. Please enjoy! The Story “The world is made up of pixels,” a professor said to his class. “Most pixels are clear. These clear pixels are areas devoid of matter. All objects are made up of lighted pixels. Your eyes pick up the nearest pixel for each spot in a two dimensional range from them.” . . . On and on the professor went, the students all listening and taking notes. The programmers monitoring the area were laughing hysterically. They were watching their own world with real people, and watching actual people accept the crazy laws of their universe was unbelievable. These people were all trapped inside a virtual reality machine, which could perfectly emulate real life and more. Many impossible sciences were available to these citizens. Teleportation, shrink rays, and completely immersive video games just to name a few. Other impossibilities were realities too. The only way for any of them to die is from old age. No matter what happens, these people are always insured complete safety and complete freedom. For these people, this was reality, for they had been locked up in the machine since birth, and didn’t know of any other type of life. Permanent virtual reality has raised many questions in the world. Even though it has engulfed a quarter of Earth’s population, much controversy still exists. Sci-fi analysts still argue that it is suicide to let machines completely rule our lives, but this argument was dismissed by most world leaders because it is impossible to think that man-made devices will turn on humans, especially when they’re programmed not to anything like it. Although the scientist’s debate has already been adjourned, religion still will not give in. Preacher John Marrows has given this famous speech many times: “If we allow ourselves to be pulled into this virtual reality, we will destroy all meaning of our lives. There will be no such thing as good or bad deeds. Anything we do to help someone else is something he or she could do on his or her own. Any sins we do are not really sins because they do no harm.” These words have caused ongoing protests against the technology. It’s shocking to believe that humanity has devised a way to destroy the purpose of life, and is at risk of doing so. A new argument proposed by the renowned philosopher Harrison Levven has caught the attention of many. Hi s famous words are as follows: “One main key thing virtual reality provides us with is complete safety and freedom. Before this, safety and freedom were always conflicting; you could never have the full extent of both. This still holds true today. By being in virtual reality, you are surrendering all of your freedom to the machine and its operators. You are giving away more freedom than any other person gave away throughout all of history. The machine controls everything you see, smell, touch, learn, taste, and hear. I beg of you, the people, to please stop the full development of this technology at all costs.” Of course, as any great thinker could tell you, virtual reality is fated to continue development until it engulfs the globe. Why? – Because they’ve done the same thing countless times beforehand. All the people are doing is surrendering their freedom for something that looks good, yet surrendering freedom is what has put many countries in the past into jeopardy. What might it do to the world? A professor droned on to his class, “The world is made up of atoms. Most atoms are too spread out to see. They make up the air around you. Objects are made up of more densely packed atoms. Your eyes are able to see this matter because the atoms are close enough together. The color . . . It might have been a little odd, but it's just a rough draft anyway. If you post on this thread, please do it for one of the following three reasons: 1. You are posting a story 2. You are giving constructive, non-flaming critisizm to one of the stories. 3. You are giving a good argument to why this kind of thread is a good or bad idea (there is always the copywright issue). I really would like to hear what people think of this thread. It may be a terrible idea, I don't know. |
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#2 |
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嗚呼
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one time i went to the
the end
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Plz visit my blog |
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#3 |
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Banned
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[quote="Spheroid"]"...and completely immersive video games just to name a few. Other impossibilities were realities too."[quote]
I really hope that you get the ability to save your games. It'd be just too wierd to be in the restroom, doing your business, while shooting at aliens or piloting fighter jets. Plus think of the mess it would make. Anyways, I'll go ahead and read the rest... Ok, I'm confused. That should be more of an essay than a story. I'll post an essay I did last week for English later. It's not the best I've ever done, but it's one that I don't lie in, like the one I did today. The prompt was "Write about a time when you were proud." I wrote about how I got a "700 max combo" on Alpha Helix. I'm not going to post that because it has too many lies in it and I'd look like an idiot. I do it for the grade, not the criticism. |
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#4 |
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Seen your member
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Critisizm on moogy's story:
This was a compelling story about a quest of uncertainty. Filled with humour, wit, and ambiguity, yet a very blunt and straightforward tale. It is concise yet gets the point across. An Ideal post in a world of tl-dr's - I rate it "four and a half stars", or, "gtfo/10". |
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#5 |
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Banned
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Ok, heres my essay titled "How Surroundings Can Effect The Outcome Of Your Life" Once again, I make it for the grade, not the criticsm.
Out of everything that effects our lives, your surroundings make the biggest impact of all. Things such as your neighborhood, cash flow, and up-bringing can set the path of your future. For instance, a bad neighborhood, or slum, can give you "street smarts", but most of the local schools could give you a bad education, which could give you a bad job, in which you would land right back on the streets. If you grew up with drive-by shootings happening all around you, you would know what to do in that situation, but in that kind of 'hood, you could be the one with the gun. Unlike the safety skills from a bad neighborhood, if you were raised in a rich, gated community, you wouldn't even know the word "gun". Sure you would have money, a nice house, a nice car, a nice job, and a good education, but what if somebody got pissed off at what you said on "Cribz" or whatever, then you would be looking out your window wondering what that black stick that made loud noises was doing outside your window. Ok, thats all I got cause I ran out of time and didn't want to work on it anymore...yes, it's because I'm too lazy... |
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#6 |
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FFR Player
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Moogy-
1/0- Suckfulness 1220/0- Funk! .06/0- Something Final Score.. UNDEFINED! (You win, now go away forever.) |
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#7 |
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Seen your member
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I'll give you the benefit of the doubt, deltro, and say that there is a virus on your computer that changes "critical thinking" to "garbage bin" wherever it appears, just to make you look like an ass.
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#8 |
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FFR Player
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Hmmm, that story reminded me a bit of I,Robot and The Matrix. It is all completey possible in the future, and could happen to become a situation of freedom. It just looks too much like all the new sci-fi movies today. 7/10
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#9 |
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FFR Player
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Ok, just so everyone is clear, please read the stated rules at the bottom of my first post. That means nothing like deltro's last comment. I would like to ask a mod to delete stuff that doesn't belong here.
Anyway, I'm not going to be giving many opinions on stories because I don't trust my opinion. btw, the story I wrote actually wasn't an essay, it was a free-write. (and there is a save feature). Also, no more stories like moogy's. One will be enough. |
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#10 |
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FFR Player
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This isn't my work, but this is my g/f work...she doesn't know I'm posting this. but i like it so much you guys should read it too...it's a little bloody but that's ok...enjoy...
°Surprise° Just a short story I wrote... enjoy! The off-white tile floor was slick and slippery, stained red from the splattered blood. The air in the small bathroom was thick, death hung heavy in the air. The smell of ammonia was strong from being cleaned the previous night, but beneath that the bitter smell of fresh blood lingered, spreading through out the house by way of air vents. Running water from the silver faucet was the only sound save the echo of the girls scream that still rang off the marbled walls. The white towel was still wrapped around her stiff, pale form though it was now splattered crimson. Her blonde hair was tangled and wet with her own blood. Her right arm was twisted behind her, broken from being held back in the struggle. Her left hand still held the smooth, useless, silver cross, the chain broken from being yanked off the wall. The water from the tub ran over the edge washing the remaining blood away. Her pale blue eyes stared lifeless at the ceiling her last image sketched into her mind. His footsteps were heard solely by the dead, as he shut the door and walked calmly down the dimly lit hallway, licking his lips in satisfaction. |
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#11 | |
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FFR Player
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Since this is an actual good idea for a thread, here's a Fanfic I wrote (based off of Diablo 2) 6-9 months ago. Hopefully there's not a character limit here.
Jalil and His Master Each one of us knew that eventually our turn would come, that we would be called into action beyond the unexplainable safety of Lut Gholein’s walls. No foe that resided in the desert outside had ever attempted an attack since I had been posted there. Some had come within feet of the entrance, but when we pointed our spears at them they would simply mutter in an inhuman tongue and wander back into the desert. My comrades before me had worked tirelessly to keep this city safe, and since those battles, it seemed as if my newer comrades and I were unnecessary. There seemed to be an unspoken pact between us and the monsters outside - not to attack unless the heroes hired us to go into their turf. It was never the other way around. One by one, I had watched some of my comrades get hired by these heroes. Warriors, knights, sorceresses - they came in all forms. Occasionally, these champions of combat would come back to Lut Gholein through their mysterious portals, or through the ancient waypoint nested in the city square. But more often than not, they informed our commander that the fighter they hired had died. Some of them died in ways simply unimaginable to me. We came to loathe being hired, but we knew it was why our commander stationed us here. Naturally, my comrades and I knew that eventually we would all be called on to fight. And when my day arrived, I didn’t know how to react. A small team of heroes marched into the city, coming from the Rogue’s Encampment. One visited the commander, inquiring about mercenaries. She was beautiful, to say the least. She had long, flowing hair that was hidden only by a metal cap. She was shorter than I, and her crisp brown skin had remained soft despite the harsh sun and brutal battles she had faced previously. Her armour was rustic - a silver, interwoven protector that covered her torso. In her hands she grasped an enchanted staff that was nearly as tall as she was. And her eyes - her glorious sky blue eyes gave me hope for the salvation of good. She stood firm and commanding - almost intimidating. What gave her innocence away was the gentle smile on her smooth lips. She was perfect. Her name was Flazie. And when she selected me, out of the ten or so of us standing around - my heart skipped a beat. “What’s your name?” she asked, her voice soft and soothing to the ears. “Jalil,” I responded, feeling myself relax in her presence. “What is your specialty?” “I know a freezing aura. Slows the enemies down as they approach us.” “Fantastic. You’ll come in handy.” And so we had met. She was an incredible woman - fearless and beautiful. I followed her as she went through town, from merchant to merchant. “What armour do you have, Jalil?” She asked, looking at my ragged clothes. “Just these.” I responded, looking to the sand beneath my feet. “Nonsense. You won’t last two seconds in that.” She commented, and pointed at some armour the merchant was displaying. She handed it to me, complete with a metal cap for my head. “This is for you. Put it on.” I looked at what my new master had bought me. The armour was incredible, the sunlight gleaming off it’s polished surface. As quickly as I could, I dressed myself in it. “Thank you.” I said, surprised at her instant generosity. “Speak nothing of it, Jalil. The monsters drop hefty amounts of gold upon death.” She remarked, and then faced me. “How about your weapon?” “I use this.” I handed her my spear. “It’s all I’ve ever been trained with.” “This is trash.” She piped, and threw it away. She approached another merchant, and promptly bought me a new spear. It was made of harder wood, and the tip was a sharp metal. As I put my hands around the spear, a quick rush of energy entered my body, my blood warmed, and small pieces of static skipped off of the spear, dissipating into the desert air. “Is it enchanted?” I asked, perplexed. “Yes. It will help you kill stronger enemies by sending an electrical shock when you strike them.” I admired the weapon as she met up with the other heroes. As they spoke amongst each other and walked through to the city square, I admired my master. She walked so soft on the sand, barely leaving a footprint. Her long, brown hair wisped in the air, caressing the exposed part of her neck and massaging her shoulders gently. And in an instant, she took me into the desert, complete with the other warriors. At first the light of the sun overwhelmed me - I had never ventured far from Lut Gholein’s outer walls, where there was shade to hide near and keep us cool. Out in the barren desert, the sun beat down on myself and those who accompanied me. There was no shade, no city walls to keep me safe. It was just the team and I, alone. The first set of enemies approached - small little creatures that walked on four legs, and jumped around the heroes, snapping their teeth and waving their front claws at us. I was reluctant to attack at first, watching in awe as my master released a cryptic orb of ice that killed one immediately. With that show of confidence, I attacked another, driving my spear through its back - my first kill. From there the team of heroes travelled, with me always near Flazie’s side. When we rested in the desert at nights, she would tell me tales of the battles near the Rogue’s Monastery in the west. Each story she told me was fascinating - she had lived a life of heroism I could only dream of. She and the team wandered farther and farther into the desert, new enemies attacking and failing as they travelled. Tirelessly they pressed on, stopping to rest only when absolutely necessary. I killed when I had to, but to the rest of the team I was but an extension of my master’s body. And I was no match for her. I watched her fight each day, marvelling at her exquisite form. I tried to emulate her, to learn what made her that much more superior to the creatures we faced. The nights when the heroes rested and Flazie kept watch for enemies, I stayed awake to accompany her. Perhaps it was my pride, or my growing dependence on her presence, but I could never sleep when she was keeping watch. Each night we talked endlessly, as our relationship grew from a simple mercenary and his master to a friendship. She told me tales of the Rogues heroism in the west, the sad fate of their monastery, and her exploits against the demon known as Andariel. I listened intently to every story, every word. I delighted in her stories - she had seen a world I would never know. I would watch the words roll off her tongue, her innocent smile when she looked at me, the way her hair flowed down her shoulders when she removed her cap - it was heavenly. Over the months we fought, making periodic trips back to Lut Gholein through the portals and the waypoints the heroes found in the desert, I grew to love Flazie. I knew that I would never have her for a wife. How could I? What did I have to offer? I was unskilled and unimportant to her survival. I was nothing but another faceless ally - one she had undoubtedly seen many of through her travels with the other heroes. So I never told her how I felt, content with just the friendship her and I had. I had been blessed to know her, let alone fight for her. It was the day that a strange darkness overcame a ruined city the heroes and I were exploring that I first felt fear for my own survival. I had heard of my comrades dying out here, but I had yet to see any of their corpses in the sand. It was that day that I saw the first one. The group casually dismissed his death, one of them even searching his rotting carcass to find anything of value. I pushed him away, angered. “Leave him be! His soul has suffered enough!” I yelled at the large hero, who sported the largest axe I’d ever seen in my life. “Shut up, you. Go help your master.” He retorted, pushing me away and resuming his desecration of my comrade’s belongings. I turned away and held back tears, trying to irradicate the image of my own comrade’s torn stomach spilling and drying in the sun. I went to Flazie, hoping to find comfort in her voice, her looks. “What’s wrong, Jalil?” She asked, sensing the pain on my face. “It’s nothing. . .” I responded, looking to the ground. “Is it Cargel searching your dead friend?” “Yes.” I wanted to mourn my lost comrade, to bury him. But I couldn’t. “I’m sorry, Jalil.” Flazie said, putting her hand on my shoulder. “We lose friends and comrades sometimes. It is the price we pay in fighting for the Light.” Her words, and her touch, soothed me so. Letting a single tear fall down my cheek, and feeling her hand wipe it away, would have given me the strength to overcome any foe in the desert. But she clutched me, wrapping her arms around my body, holding me against her in a sympathetic hug. “It’ll be okay - I promise.” She whispered calmly. “You have been more help then you’ll ever know.” How I loved her. How much joy she gave me in such a dark time will remain the biggest secret of my life. We searched the abandoned city, until we found a temple hidden outside the ruins. Two stone snake statues stood over the entrance, but the heroes ventured in fearlessly. I followed my lover in, scared to face the evil inside, but afraid to face the desert without her. Ungodly creatures attacked in every hallway, snakes, skeletons, apparitions, and gigantic, raven-faced summoners that brought the skeletons back from their ruins. The heroes overcame them all, some sustaining minor injuries. Together we went through the temple, cleansing it from the foes, until we found the staircase leading to the deeper level. The heroes raged through, screaming and battling an onslaught of snakes and skeletons. There must have been more than fifty in that small chamber. They attacked relentlessly, striking at the heroes flesh, and nearly killing the warrior with the axe. We managed to break through the wall of enemies, fighting towards the centre of the chamber. I followed Flazie, attacking anything that came near her. It was when the heroes attacked the enchanted snakes known as “Claw Vipers” that all hell broke loose. Each strike the heroes landed, the champion of the Claw Vipers known by ancient scriptures as Fangskin released a spray of lightning bolts, bolts so powerful that it burned bones on contact. I, with the heroes, fought the snake, each bolt that struck my body weakening me. And when the final blow struck Fangskin, he exploded. The heroes survived, although the axed warrior sustained critical injuries and was rushed to open a portal and find the healer in Lut Gholein. I staggered, the other heroes jumping into the portal after gathering the amulet they sought. Flazie, my lover, was about to enter when she saw me, stumbling around the chamber. “Are you okay, Jalil?” She asked, her soft voice echoing gently off the walls. “I’m sorry. . .” I gasped, turning to face her. She put her hand to her mouth at the sight of me. Piercing my chest was one of the destroyed creature’s long fangs. The sharp fang had broken my armour, and had broken many of my ribs. I felt no pain - I was in too much shock to feel pain. “By the Light!” My master exclaimed as she hurried to my side. I fell to my knees beside her. “Jalil! Hold on Jalil!” I watched her hands scramble to her belt and pull out a potion filled with red liquid. “I’m sorry. . .” I repeated. She poured the potion down my mouth. “Don’t die, Jalil! Hold on! Hold on to the power of the Light!” I reached my hand out for hers. She grasped my hand tightly, and I dropped onto my back. “Flazie. . . it pierced my heart.” “Don’t die, Jalil! No, please, don’t die!” She shrieked, pulling out another potion. “It’s okay.” I responded, my voice faint. “I could have never asked for a better life.” I saw her blue eyes well up with water, as she shook her head. “I won’t let you die. These potions will heal you. Please!” I knew it was too late for me, but I no longer feared dying. “Knowing you has been blessing in my simple life, Flazie. I now know why the Light put me on this world. . . thank. . .you.” She wrapped her hands tightly around my body. My vision became blurry and I could feel blood filling in my lungs. “I need you, Jalil.” She wept. I used my last strength to hold her to me, until I passed from that world. My love wept over my passing away. She carried my body through the portal, and took it to a small corner of Lut Gholein, where I was buried. Flazie mourned my passing, before leaving to fight for the good of the Light once again. I never feared my death when I was with her. I know that the Light gave me her tears to ease my passing. I was never her equal, but now, even after the desert was cleansed by her group of heroes and they travelled to Kurast to fight once again, every now and then she takes a boat back and stops by my grave. How I love her, even in my passing.
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#12 |
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auauauau
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I could learn to love this thread.
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#13 |
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FFR Player
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I have a question, I wrote a rape story a couple months ago, but the only problem is that is has some language and sexuall things in it...would it be ok if I posted it anyways?
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#14 |
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Banned
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Most likely, yes, but only if it's REALLY good. The one you already posted was a little too short and didn't really lead anywhere, y'know? It looked like more of a scene from a Keanu Reeves film.
Jazz, a story based on a video game? That's intelligent? If I had known this I would stop doing...cruches or whatever I'm doing and get to work... |
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#15 |
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FFR Player
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the first story sounds a lot like this book i read once: Pendragon.
it was like the fourth in a series and these people sit in vr their whole lives and disregard their real planet and it falls apart its also like matrix |
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#16 | |
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FFR Player
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Here's another one I wrote: It's called: Because You Said. . .
Who are you to say I can’t? You’ll see, one day, you’ll see me. And when that day comes, you won’t know what to say. I’ll have proved you all wrong. The kid that nobody wanted, you remember him, don’t you? Always chewing gum, he was. Never took anything seriously, they all said. I remember when I was but 15 years, all alone in the world, parents given up long ago, teachers watching me fail, telling me not to cut class. To stop wasting my life on an activity that will get me nowhere. But here I am, 10 years after those non-believers said I couldn’t. Detached from reality? I wouldn’t say so. I am a performer, giving people what they desire, filling their minds with vibrations no other can fulfill. I stand alone in the world, in front of the masses, and play. Not an instrument, but a life. I have no stage, no hall, no studio, not even a street corner. I don’t even have a room to call my own. But I play. And I play and I please. There are those who stand in my way - and I knock them down. There are those push me back - and I trip them up. I get hurt, but I play. And who’s to say I can’t? It is not a sport, but a life. And I’m the best. I have no name, but I do not desire such definitions. If you are locked by terms, you may simply call me ‘Best’. For that is what I am. My travels take me far, the money I earn not enough to live. When the day comes and I die, they will all know they were wrong. I came from nothing, from a dead-end, to a world of practice. And now I fight. Yet I am only 130 pounds, and 5'2. But I am the best. Who were you to say I couldn’t?
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#17 |
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Banned
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Very good little article, Jazz!
You're talking about basketball, aren't you? It sounds to me like that new commercial for Air Jordans or Nike...or Gatorade, I don't remember...but it has this kid sitting on a step infront of an apartment, and he's talking about Michael Jordan. Anyways, it was good. |
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#18 | |
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FFR Player
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Thanks - but I'm not talking about basketball.
"It is not a sport, but a life." Not sports. It is something though - I don't write purposeless dribble.
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#19 |
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Banned
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Who said basketball was just a sport?
You're limiting your mind, jazz ![]() |
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#20 | |
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FFR Player
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Er. No. That piece is written in a very explicit tone, so while Best doesn't say what he's the best at, he/she definely says what it is they are not doing. And specifically stated that they are the best at something that is not a sport or an instrument. But this consumes their life.
It's you who's limiting your mind. Readily accepting a solution when it's wrong. (I know a sound like a jerk here, but I'm just stating the riddle of the story).
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