Yeah, same here. When I'm in a aweful mood the characters in my stories suffer greatly.Aka-chan wrote:Sometimes if I'm really stressed, I'll destroy beautiful characters in stories just for the sake of stress relief, but I never could do anything like that in real life. It makes me sad when lovely things are broken.
Locke wrote:but makin things suffer deepins the hole you are already in....
and no, beautty is in the eye of the beholder. If you were to destroy something you think is beautiful somebody will be glad you did.
bleh... triple triple animal style is NOT a good dinner....
In many cases that is very true. Sometimes if you kill off a character in a story you might come to later find you really liked them and wanted to keep them in it for later. For the most part it works for me though. XDbut makin things suffer deepins the hole you are already in....
Shatterheart wrote:Learning to deal with anger is part of growing up.
Volt wrote:I can't stand it when something gets destroyed. Becaue it's ... gone. Even if it's not beautiful, It still has a purpose. Why would anyone want to destroy it?
shatterheart wrote:Learning to deal with anger is part of growing up.
[SIGPIC][/SIGPIC]I remember that one fateful day when Coach took me aside. I knew what was coming. "You don't have to tell me," I said. "I'm off the team, aren't I?" "Well," said Coach, "you never were really ON the team. You made that uniform you're wearing out of rags and towels, and your helmet is a toy space helmet. You show up at practice and then either steal the ball and make us chase you to get it back, or you try to tackle people at inappropriate times." It was all true what he was saying. And yet, I thought something is brewing inside the head of this Coach. He sees something in me, some kind of raw talent that he can mold. But that's when I felt the handcuffs go on.
The_Marauding_Maniac wrote:I know what you feel, Whenever something is broken or destroyed, I want it to come back, even if it's something I hate!
[SIGPIC][/SIGPIC]I remember that one fateful day when Coach took me aside. I knew what was coming. "You don't have to tell me," I said. "I'm off the team, aren't I?" "Well," said Coach, "you never were really ON the team. You made that uniform you're wearing out of rags and towels, and your helmet is a toy space helmet. You show up at practice and then either steal the ball and make us chase you to get it back, or you try to tackle people at inappropriate times." It was all true what he was saying. And yet, I thought something is brewing inside the head of this Coach. He sees something in me, some kind of raw talent that he can mold. But that's when I felt the handcuffs go on.
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