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Friday 24th October 2008. 10:31am

  1. cuddlesthefox
    Swim realised over the last few days on the DF and in the "real world" he is not and never will be, good at advice. Swim tries very hard and means well but no matter how considered, swim has a mental health problem, which if swim is honest, dictates his actions, opinions and life style, it also dictates the kind of things he thinks are "cool". Swim is a terrible fuck up.
    I really believe, anyone who asks for help or advice from swim should read this before even considering reading anything else swim has typed here lol.
    Due to his "condition" swim also finds that he gets his emotions IV style rather than the normal absorbtion method. To explain, say you were reading a really sad poem, you'd probably feel sad yeah? Swim would be in the foetal position sobbing and clinging to a photo of his dead mother.
    It's a rollercoaster ride of a life but whilst it stays vaguely controllable then swim is ok! This is why swim likes the DF so much. Here, he can cut loose a little.
    But please, remember... swim is a mental case, not dangerous (unless you count to himself) but very irresponsible.
    On a positive note, swim also cares alot about people and can care to the point of treating fully grown men like 3 year olds crossing the road on there own. Swim has no limits for himself but cares intensely how others feel.
    Can I do a poem?
    Its not my own but it's one that I like. I'll share it with you all. I pretty much live by this...

    Do not go gentle into that good night,
    Old age should burn and rave at close of day;
    Rage, rage against the dying of the light.
    Though wise men at their end know dark is right,
    Because their words had forked no lightning they
    Do not go gentle into that good night.

    Good men, the last wave by, crying how bright
    Their frail deeds might have danced in a green bay,
    Rage, rage against the dying of the light.

    Wild men who caught and sang the sun in flight,
    And learn, too late, they grieved it on its way,
    Do not go gentle into that good night.

    Grave men, near death, who see with blinding sight
    Blind eyes could blaze like meteors and be gay,
    Rage, rage against the dying of the light.

    And you, my father, there on the sad height,
    Curse, bless me now with your fierce tears, I pray.
    Do not go gentle into that good night.
    Rage, rage against the dying of the light.

    davie xxx


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