Forum Thread

YOU WILL NOT ESCAPE MY GRASP. I AM DEATH, DESTROYER OF WORLDS. YOU, YOU ARE THE ONE, CRYING IN THE CORNER, JUST WAILING AND BAWLING, CONTEMPLATING EVERYTHING YOU’VE DONE. YOU’RE POWERLESS AGAINST ME. YOU PERFECTLY KNOW ALL OF THIS, DO YOU NOT? YOU CANNOT DENY IT. YOU WILL FALL INTO MY HANDS, LIK THE PUPPET YOU ARE. THERE IS NOTHING IN LIFE LEFT FOR YOU, IT IS JUST A WALNUT WITHOUT THE NUT, ONLY AN EMPTY HUSK. LIFELESS. HOPELESS, KNOWING THAT ONE DAY, YOU WILL SUCCUMB TO ME. YOU WILL PERISH AND DIE. YOU DO NOT HAVE A FRACTION OF AN IDEA OF WHAT YOU WILL NEED TO ENDURE THROUGHOUT. YOU KNOW THE WINNER. THE NUMBER 1. THE ONE GETTING THE LAST LAUGH. AND IF YOU THINK YOU HAVE MERE ENOUGH POWER TO TRY TO TAKE ME DOWN, YOU DO NOT KNOW WHAT YOU ARE GETTING IN TO. THE END IS NEAR FOR YOU. YOU. WILL. NOT. MAKE. IT. AND AT THE END OF THE DAY, YOU’LL WAKE UP, AND REPEAT THE ENDLESS CYCLE OF TORTURE. YOU CAN TRY TO PICK UP THE PIECES AND PUT THEM BACK TOGETHER, BUT YOU WILL RESULT IN FAILURE. NOTHING BUT FAILURE. AFTER THAT, I WILL BE YOU, YOU WILL BE ME. I. AM. GOING. TO. END. YOU.

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Doth mother know you weareth her drapes

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ARE YOU TRYING TO CAUSE A TPKO WITH AN O V E N

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https://m.youtube.com/watch?v=zXRdekCUa68 https://m.youtube.com/watch?v=zXRdekCUa68 https://m.youtube.com/watch?v=zXRdekCUa68 https://m.youtube.com/watch?v=zXRdekCUa68

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“….Don’t drop that…”

"I caught a pink maomao!
I thought cats said mao, not fish..."

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Don’t open if you’re not at least over the age of 13

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What the….oh noses, not again! *faints dramatically on floor*

My friend: *says to me* "is it me?"

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+6 252+ SpA Choice Specs Beads of Ruin Tera Fire Chi-Yu Helping Hand Power Spot boosted Overheat vs. -6 Lvl 1 0 HP / 0- SpD Snom in Sun on a critical hit: 2664-26272 (24218.1 - 238836.3%) -- guaranteed OHKO

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"TOUCH IT." - My classmate 5 minutes ago

The rocks you used to toss at me will be the stones I use to build my empire.

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[Unrelated, so deleted]

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Title: ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀

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He smiled.

The revival of this thread shall be provoked.

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"Unfortunate" doesn't begin to describe my series, this game rewards blind luck and nothing else, I am beyond convinced at this point. After getting completely tooled by scheduling with my opponent changing times on me last minute and refusing to provide confirmation prior to the day of the match as to play times, losing this way somehow felt even worse than I had thought possible. My preparation was superior, my play was superior, and I lost, so I don't see a reason to continue engaging in an activity where what is within my control is overwhelmingly outweighed by what is not. I am done with competitive Pokemon, and you won't get a fond farewell. This community is infected to its roots with a degenerative disease that grows stronger over time but stops short of killing its host. Tournaments used to have a competitive spirit at their heart, this has been transplanted and replaced with an artificial organ that feeds on vitriol and mockery from insecure little boys that heckle by the sidelines and tear each other to shreds over scraps of attention. The environment we fostered has trapped us all like this in a vicious cycle, and escaping it requires acceptance of the harshest reality we all scramble to explain away, that none of the countless straining efforts we put ourselves through here will ever amount to one single shining glimmer of significance. I would make this the end, but World Cup is still ongoing, and I would never leave so many great friends out to dry, so I'll suffer through a few more games for them. One last thing before I leave you all to react with disdain, ridicule, and self-righteous fervor, before you do everything in your power to minimize my words and thoughts, box them up and shove them to some cobwebbed corner of your memory, and hope they disappear forever as a stain on your finite time ground to dust. From this moment on, nothing you say matters to me. The foulest insults you hurl with intent to wound will calmly settle at the earth before my feet, and the venom you spit will bring all the pain of a warm summer breeze. You are less than anything you can conceive, while I carry on, brimming with joy distilled from detachment.

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