<meta name='google-adsense-platform-account' content='ca-host-pub-1556223355139109'/> <meta name='google-adsense-platform-domain' content='blogspot.com'/> <!-- --><style type="text/css">@import url(https://www.blogger.com/static/v1/v-css/navbar/3334278262-classic.css); div.b-mobile {display:none;} </style> </head><body><script type="text/javascript"> function setAttributeOnload(object, attribute, val) { if(window.addEventListener) { window.addEventListener('load', function(){ object[attribute] = val; }, false); } else { window.attachEvent('onload', function(){ object[attribute] = val; }); } } </script> <div id="navbar-iframe-container"></div> <script type="text/javascript" src="https://apis.google.com/js/platform.js"></script> <script type="text/javascript"> gapi.load("gapi.iframes:gapi.iframes.style.bubble", function() { if (gapi.iframes && gapi.iframes.getContext) { gapi.iframes.getContext().openChild({ url: 'https://www.blogger.com/navbar/3317980515693243177?origin\x3dhttp://packyourselfwithachainsaw.blogspot.com', where: document.getElementById("navbar-iframe-container"), id: "navbar-iframe" }); } }); </script>
profile

Photobucket physically unfit.
mentally challenged.
average.

links

haiza.
amirahlee.
syuhadah.
ashikin.
farhana.
feeee.
eka.
oyar.

archives

September 2009 October 2009 November 2009 December 2009 January 2010 March 2010

the shizz.

credits

layout designer and image: eloquent
date: Tuesday, October 27, 2009
title: limits.
time: 6:00 PM

Everyone has limits. Even cats. Cats wouldn't want you to touch its whiskers every second would it. In the end, you would just get scratched; the cat creating for you permanent "whiskers". My little sister just got jacked by my dad for making my mum wait for 1 hour and 30 minutes just to chit-chat with her phony little friends. Awesome.

But that's not the point. To see that my dad FINALLY scolding was somewhat good and bad in a way. Come on, everyone has limits. My dad screamed at her face, where she cried just like that, in about 2 seconds.

My dad has been bearing with her for like how many days, no weeks, no months, no, years to be exact. I guess, dad released some of his anger to cool of, at least. Well, the bad thing was as a responsible brother without a doubt, I took the courtesy to go out, look what was happening due to being afraid my father would beat my little sister. When all's good, I added some oil to the fire, devouring that satisfaction, even though it's for a little while.

Everyone has limits. So do I. I've recently been pondered by the thought of the quote "People come, people go."

How would you feel, if someone told you that very same quote, and in the end, the person did the same thing; "people go." Come on, don't be a fucked up cunt no seriously. I know I don't have authority to stop you but come on, how fucked up can you be. Don't be a fucking cunt by giving some kind of hope. If it bothers you so much, feel free to tell and leave.

And another thing, how would you feel, if someone tries to get to you by going the long way. As in, not directly shooting you but taking step by step where you finally realise it's you they're talking about. Come on, what's wrong with being straight forward? Is it a sin? I know it'll hurt, but, it's better then running around and wasting people's time and in the end, it's you they're talking about.

I'm not perfect. I'm a fucked up cunt too. I don't have the rights to scold anyone. But basic human nature, you don't have it, then what are you? Don't try too hard on being perfect. Cause life isn't meant to be that way.