User:Chez Anthony

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edit Trophies

ABYSS This user has survived the wretched dark place we call The Abyss.

edit Nonsense

Economy can be considered as an art and as a science.

It can be considered as a science in such a manner that it is the field of knowledge that concerns itself with the production, distribution, and consumption of products, goods etc..
It can be considered as an art such that it is the mastery of the skill of producing, distributing, and consuming of products, goods etc..
In this manner, art and science is considered as coincident proving that all science is an art and all arts are sciences.

(But science is waaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaay better.)

edit The End of the Sorrow Monopoly

I have written this to inform, clarify and possibly exculpate.
I have done what I did in my full will, uninfluenced and in my own feat using my own capabilities, to clarify that no third, nor second, party was involved in my bidding, and that it was voluntary and autonomic. I was the mastermind, the perpetrator, the victim, and the casualty.
I have dwelt in the house of sorrow for so long now; bound by the chains of self-preservation , kept in its walls and trapped in its abyss. Fear clouds my sense of judgment. A bag of guilty conscience burdens my load. I drag my weakened self towards the daily hustle of a teenage life. I can only consume as much laughter as I could, and what I could is not enough to overshadow my chaotic world. A speck of void spurts in me. It swallows my wholeness and what's left is still unknown.
Succumbed have I to confusion. The reality that I once used to accommodate is invalid. Everything then turns irrelevant and senseless. Every task is pointless and every law is contraveneable, nonetheless. The state of what is is distorted, skewed, and in a radical manner, unraveled. I point out that no chain can bind me, no wall can keep me, and no prison that can lock me. I am a specter. And now, I could remain that way.
Fear it is that drives me far. Angst it is that gives me fuel. If the life that we have is purpose driven, then mine is a ghost ship. It bobs its way to the entire vastness of the unknown, the incomprehensible, the vague and ambiguous.
Joy, elusive. Ambition, null. Death, inevitable, eventually.

edit Time From an Argumentative Standpoint

edit Time is Relative

The incarnation of time is vague and its measure is beyond inaccurate. As an interval between the inter temporal plane, the distance is dependent. As an instance, consider the following: An interval of a year means a duration/interval of 365 1/4 days or any measure for a year, or a transcendence between to years e.g. 2007-2008, whether an expedition of one complete revolution or 365 1/4 days or any measure for that matter. Another is that the beginning of the measure is corporeal and arguable, meaning one can start counting time from any point, and refer to a point within a scope of a year as a year. With these, time and its measure is relative, and ultimately vague.

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