The Roguebomber

This is not for you.

[humortrain]

[theclearlydope]

J. Law blowing up my mobile.

[theroguebomber]

while (myGuitar.status==weeping) { open all; love=sleeping; if (floor==dirty & myGuitar.status!=weeping) sweepFloor(); }

[theroguebomber]

Wish List 2013

-Direction -Child-like sense of enthusiasm for my job -A way to slow down time, or generate more -A vacation -The feeling of accomplishment through innovation -A way out -A literal wish -The ability to say exactly what I mean at the right time -jeans

[theroguebomber]

Silence

Had it not been for his accident, Mason would've felt right at home amid the drunken chaos of his roommates' party happening two floors below. The familiar tremor of subwoofers pulsated through his body, massaging his muscles as he lay facing the wall on his twin-sized mattress. He swears he can still hear the music, but any audible stimulation would be pure speculation. Mason's denial over his hearing loss only amplifies the damage caused by his depraved upbringing. He reaches out to them – parents, siblings, friends, artists and icons – but he's greeted only with silence.

[theroguebomber]

You know, this is stupid.

Today is a good day. I'm awesome.

[theroguebomber]

Me: I invented a new emoticon: \(°-°)/

I call it the "fuck this I'm done"

Sam: I modified your emoticon

/(°-°)\ IT'S GEODUDE!!!

Me: - /(x_x)\ - - - ¬(^-^)

[theclearlydope]

Thanks. I needed this.

(via)

[theroguebomber]

Visit Original Link

[theroguebomber]

How am I feeling today?

Imagine you are taking a test. There is only one question on the test, an essay prompt. The question itself is not important. The answer you write down is comprised entirely of who you are - your thoughts, feelings, personality and physical appearance. Everything you are, have been, or ever will become. Each word is a part of you - the answer IS you.

You hand in your test, and several days later it is returned to you. Now despite the subjective nature of the question posed, the grader has decided to mark your answer wrong. No explanation in red pen, no partial credit, just 0/100. When you ask why, you hear that there was never really a “correct” answer, but it is clear that your answer, the words that encompass your entire existence, are completely and hopelessly wrong.

You are wrong.

That’s how I’m feeling today.

[theroguebomber]

I am better than stooping to the level of trying to change what someone wants. I am better than trying desperately to convince someone they love me. I am better than trying to convince myself someone loves me. I do not need to subject myself to constant, perpetual rejection, and I sure as hell do not need to deal with the amount of stress it causes me. So today I will stop. I will stop thinking “how can I make Lauren love me today?” I will stop believing every touch or smile or look means she has finally “come to her senses.” I will stop allowing her to cuddle with me because she is cold when that cuddling means something completely different to me. I will stop judging myself through the lens of unrequited love. Her feelings towards me do not reflect my character whatsoever. Her feelings towards me do not reflect her character whatsoever. They reflect only her desires, and that those desires do not include me. I will stop trying to shape her desires to include me, and I will stop trying to shape myself to include her desires. I will stop allowing myself to become angry that she does not love me. This includes anger towards God/The universe, anger towards Lauren, and most importantly, anger towards myself. I will stop giving a fuck that Lauren does not love me. And I will go find someone who does.

TheNestleCrunch, via /r/howtonotgiveafuck (http://www.reddit.com/r/howtonotgiveafuck/comments/1e8g1d/browsing_this_subreddit_for_the_first_time_while/)

[theroguebomber]

[theroguebomber]

[theroguebomber]

[theroguebomber]

Mathematicians call them twin primes: pairs of prime numbers that are close to each other, almost neighbors, but between them there is always an even number that prevents them from truly touching. Numbers like 11 and 13, like 17 and 19, 41 and 43. If you have the patience to go on counting, you discover that these pairs gradually become rarer. You encounter increasingly isolated primes, lost in that silent, measured space made only of ciphers, and you develop a distressing presentiment that the pairs encountered up until that point were accidental, that solitude is the true destiny. Then, just when you’re about to surrender, when you no longer have the desire to go on counting, you come across another pair of twins, clutching each other tightly. There is a common conviction among mathematicians that however far you go, there will always be another two, even if no one can say where exactly, until they are discovered.

Paolo Giordano, The Solitude of Prime Numbers

[theroguebomber]

WHEN LIFE GETS YOU DOWN AND YOU TRY TO FIX IT BUT DECIDE TO WRITE NOTES INSTEAD: An Entirely Not True Short Story

He sits cross-legged at the foot of his bed, staring at his phone as it draws charge from the wall. He hesitates calling her, it's been an hour and a half since she said she would call him back but really, who's counting? This is typical, he senses contempt in her voice so he holds off on speaking to her for a couple days, hoping that she'll pick up the phone first. It's a game of chicken that he never wins; she drives a semi and he pedals a big wheel. 

"Fuck it," he picks up the phone and dials her number. Three and a half rings and her voice comes through the speaker.

"What?" She said.

"So I want to try something, I realized I've been over-analyzing most of what I say to you and I want to break out of that habit. I had an idea for a story about a character who suffers a brain injury that destroys his ability to self-censor what he says, so in an effort to connect myself to that character, may I ask what's bothering you?"

"Nothing. I'm fine."

"See that's the dilemma all men face at some point in their lives when talking to girls. We know you're not fine, it's always bullshit, that much we know. But now it's either we continue pestering you hoping that somehow you'll decide to open up to us about your problems, or we leave you alone and hope that you sort through the issues yourself without developing contempt for us for not prying into the matter just a tiny bit more. 

"So I'm gonna go a different route and pretend you said something else entirely. Unfortunately I don't actually know what's bothering you so I'll have to just leave out that piece of information and hope you fill it in later, like a Mad Libs story. So, __(noun)___ huh. That sucks, __(noun)___ is the worst. How long have you been bothered by __(noun)___?"

"Stop this," she said.

"I've been bothered by __(noun)___ before, but don't get me wrong I'm not claiming to understand how you feel. And it's not about me. It's not even really about you, right? It's about __(noun)___, and how __(noun)___ is just there. You know that __(noun)___ won't go away by talking about it, you just wish __(noun)___ would get up and walk away on it's own."

"Ugh. SHUT. UP."

"I know you're not me, but if it was me I would just want someone to agree and say, 'Yeah, __(noun)___ sucks. Fuck off __(noun)___.' Because then even though no one can really understand what's going on in your head, this way you're not completely disconnected from the rest of the world, instead now you're just a ghost that can occasionally push shit over and make people aware of your presence.

"Listen, __(noun)___ sucks. Fuck __(noun)___. But despite __(noun)___ being here and fucking everything up, there's something you should know. I still really care about you. When things get bad, I think about people that care about me and try to surround myself with them, even when I can't stand being around them, or anyone else for that matter. I like you a lot, I just want you to know that."

*click*

[theroguebomber]

Hey douche canoe, remember me? I'm that guy who said he was going to write all the time and share it with the world instead of hoarding pages of notes to myself like some lonely pot dealer. I'm that guy you used to be. I'm doing fantastic, you know why? Because I know that if you start losing interest in writing a little every day and fall behind you'll think back to these words and regain all the confidence I am currently experiencing. Remember why you're doing this. It doesn't matter what other people think of your words, hell it doesn't even matter what you think. What matters is the act of doing something you've always been afraid to, to push through it and tear down all these barriers that stand between you and the rest of the world. I'm terrible at this shit, I'll admit it. However, I guarantee you'll be a little less mediocre at it the next time you read this. Sucking at something is the first step to being kinda good at something. Let's go, you got this.