Most Forgiven Posts
Here is a selection of the Most Forgiven posts.
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I really have to rant. It’s keeping me up. I mean to offend no-one. So working in retail, and I don’t know if it’s my experience in Leicester that might be bias, considering it’s multicultural circumstance, but 90% of those of Indian descent think they are an exception to the rules of social etiquette. Why do they think they can bring 10 items to the till and then say ‘oh I don’t want those 9 anymore’ and leave all their crap with me. Or ‘this one has been out on the shop floor;give me a
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That freckly-assed son of a bitch has just damn near shoved me over the brink. There I was, just cruisin’ along, minding my own goddamn business. All of a sudden, I get a letter in the mail from my health insurance company. They are going to cancel my insurance policy, which I was payin’ $430 bucks a month for. That covered me, the old lady, and a pair of youngsters that turned up over the years. It was just the right amount of insurance for my taste. It would have kept me out of bankruptcy if
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After I found out you and my fiance fucked while I was out of town I calmly confronted you and you filed a restraining order against me. I hope you have a miserable pathetic life, that’s more than you deserve.
Today one of my “friends” was complaining how her life was boring. How every morning she got up at the same time, walked to school and did the same thing everyday. How her friends did nothing interesting and how she never looks forward to something. I wanted to tell her but I couldn’t find myself too, “I would rather have a boring life. I would rather not dread when ever the phone rings or whenever my mom gets a text from her brothers. I’m scared that one day my oldest uncle is going to finally
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a lot of things to say. a lot of things to be done but nothing is happening. i always feel alone even though they are there. a lot of people love me but i don’t feel anything. i’m damaged. i’m broken… and still breaking down.
i made a name for myself and it’s been successful. many people admired what i did… some hated it… i really don’t care.
i’m jealous of kids playing without a care in the world…. and making worlds of their own. their own world to live in and be happy. i once had a world
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I come onto this ranting site, wanting to rant out all my trouble and confessions. but with each paragraph I write, i end up deleting. I wanna say everything that is in my mind. things that hurts me and pisses me off. but its just too much to write. the words sound so much better in my head compared to when i write it down. i wish there was a way to transfer my thoughts onto the screen right here. lets just say, i feel betrayed, hurt, sad, disgusted, pissed off, annoyed and irritated of my life
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I despise men’s clothes especially pants and T-shirts. There are some male short- Short pants for running/jogging of course. But they are not my stuff because they expose hideous leg muscles and hairs. I think no country but Myanmar sells skirts for men ;/ Sadly men must wear very long pants or short pants with very awkward length because of their bulged “limbs”, hideous leg muscles and hairs. And that bulged “limbs” make exposure of every underwear very hideous. In other words being a dude
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I’ve always been skeptical over true love. I for one know that there are boys, there are men, and there are gentlemen. I’ve always wanted to be the prince charming for my girlfriend but yet, I feel crushed that I don’t get that back.
Everyday, I think about her, honestly I’m extremely in love with my girlfriend. During movies, dates, sightseeing, walks, my attention is mostly on her. I’ve always acknowledged her when she’s with her friends or when i’m with my friends. Not once have I told her
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It’s always circle jerk time for Chucah the Clown! It loves to sit around in the past, crying over how jealous it is that it hasn’t ever done anything interesting or original in it’s life, weeping for it’s own irrelevance. Just a man child and his puppet, jerking each other’s wieners because it’s too sad to talk to a human. Pot portly Chucah. One day you might become human, but first you must open your eyes and allow yourself up feel in the moment.
You are not Mexican. You are not Cajun. You are definitely not Indian. You are not anything but FAT. Being fat does not make you a part of any interesting ethnic group. If you think Cinco de Mayo is called Sincko del Myo or that Dia de Los Muertos is called Dias de la Muertes, you do not get to call yourself Mexican. As a Mexican, I’m appealed that you’d consider yourself one of us.
look, i know we all work in an office and we all call people all day but if you think i am talking too loudly just tell me to my face. i know you all don’t like me, i know you never invite me to lunch with everyone else, i know that you guys talk about me, just tell me what you don’t like and i can fix it. either that or i will respect you more than when you complain to my supervisor. i do my job, i try to be friendly, but i know i don’t fit in here. i am here to work, not please any of you.
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there is a gay guy in my theater group who loves to spead lies about everyone. He is universally HATED by everyone but they are so afraid of him zeroing his venom on them that they kiss his ugly ass. He thinks he is mr. Fashionista too and has a ego too. fact is, he is a dumnass who will never amount to anything and his theater degree is bwcause he is too stupid to do anything else. He will get his when he is unemployed and those he tried to screw over pass him by. He is justva big dick.
UGHHH WHY IS EVERYTHING SO ANNOYING, NOTHING IS GOING MY WAY THESE DAYS.
You don’t have to call me atleast once every 30 minutes… just to show some cute thing our son does. Definitely not when I need to work.
If I post a status or a photo before you in facebook, learn to appreciate it and enjoy it together. Just because we have many friends and relatives in common doesn’t make me a hero for posting it and you a stupid for not. Stop making it the no.1 issue in the world and above all stop harassing me for it.
If anything. stop your stupid phone chats and make lunch
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went and passed out in my room. In my bed. Disgusting. I’d rather gnaw off my own hand than sleep in his filthy shit; maybe that’s why he helped himself to mine, because his is so nauseating. he’ll apologize in the morning, and maybe even cry, and then nothing will change. He won’t even change his sheets. He’s proud of his drunkenness and strives to be more so every day. He saves all his cardboard cases in the kitchen in a big pile that I have to shove out of the way to go out and do laundry.
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