(October 9, 2013 at 11:34 pm)Godschild Wrote:So fucking pitiful that he wanted to talk to atheist community, where people might have had similiar experiences. G-C you are such a pathetic excuse for a human I wish you were a homo erectus, just so that I wouldn't have to be the same species as you. You only I could believe that no homo sapien could be such a holier then thou piece of shit as you. If you said that in front of me I may have shoved my foot up your ass.(October 9, 2013 at 10:18 pm)Faith No More Wrote: The problem is that no one except the Christians here are talking about anyone forcing anything on anyone. Does your persecution complex run so deep that if a man shows concern that his wife is willing to die for her(and your) religion, he must be forcing his will upon her? Grow up and quit pretending like you're taking some kind of high road here. You have the balls to criticize what kind of husband he is, but your reading comprehension is so low you can't even grasp his point. Clearly it doesn't matter what anyone actually says as long as you get to feel that your beliefs are being persecuted and you can feel superior for condemning someone based on something that only happened in your deluded, little mind.
This whole thing came about because he wanted pity from you guys, how pitiful is that. When I challenged him by saying he was jealous, he blew this whole thing out of proportion, to me it's just childish at best. Now let's just drop this whole unfortunate deal.
GC
the saddest part of it all is that geniunely think you did nothing wrong. That ladies and gentlemen is how far the poison has spread.
To-morrow, and to-morrow, and to-morrow,
Creeps in this petty pace from day to day,
To the last syllable of recorded time;
And all our yesterdays have lighted fools
The way to dusty death. Out, out, brief candle!
Life's but a walking shadow, a poor player,
That struts and frets his hour upon the stage,
And then is heard no more. It is a tale
Told by an idiot, full of sound and fury,
Signifying nothing.
Creeps in this petty pace from day to day,
To the last syllable of recorded time;
And all our yesterdays have lighted fools
The way to dusty death. Out, out, brief candle!
Life's but a walking shadow, a poor player,
That struts and frets his hour upon the stage,
And then is heard no more. It is a tale
Told by an idiot, full of sound and fury,
Signifying nothing.
