The Life, Times, Writings, of Inhopeless

A young adolescent

Writer's Block: Parlez-vous francais?
What other foreign languages do you know? Which one(s) do you want to learn?

Je parle la Francais a la B-grade. Also, I speak English as a native language.

My Work is Influenced by A Clockwork Orange
I always wondered what goes on in the head of a psycho... maybe I'm that good at characterisation.

Imitation is the best form of flattery. That certainly is true. Some say my work... is... morally reprehensive. I disagree. The same as Ben Folds being inflenced by Tom Waits, I am influenced by A Clockwork Orange in my line of work.

I may not be a wordsmith, but you can see the emotions and feelings and deep meanings behind the effort I produce with my work. From the messages of 'You fuck me with, I fuck with you', to 'You eye my sister again... oh wait, you can't'.

I have to thank all the volunteers that help me with my work. A Clockwork Orange, I think is my main influence. Possibly some Grand Theft Auto thrown in. But, growing up, I knew I wanted to do work just like that. Of course, I got my dream. My parents - like with many other artists in any field - dissaproved. They kicked me out of the house. But, luckily, they changed thier minds, and they were part of my work. Exhibited around the walls.

The only people who liked my work was the police. Not the band, but the actual police. I think they liked it too much. So, I let one officer, a Mr. Tom Roache, become one of my masterpeices. This, I think, was my breakthrough into the mainstream.

My work was everywhere! Even the BBC was advertising it! That is an honour.

Well, I must go now. Say, you mind if I give you a lift home? You sure you don't? I'll, uhh... show you some more of my peices. What? Oh that shiny thing in your chest is my workers' tool.

The Birthday Poem (for Crack)

Happpy birthday, dear Crack!

You are 17, wow... that's really good, I guess,

Hope your party ain't so crap,

I know that'd suck as much as a person on a lollipop,

But you're old enough to drive, and this just won't stop,

Go forth, dear, and break down all them fears,

Nothing can stand in your way, that's what it seems to be,

The unstoppable force, the enormous hurt,

You'll give to barriers is unsurmountable,

You will climb the league tables,

Happy birthday to you,

May all them wishes come true,

We'll stand by you through and through,

Climb them mountains, why?

Because if you don't, you'll never jump to fly...

Her eyes are as bright as the moon,

A lot of people say something I don't agree with,

“She's a complete and utter loon”,

To me, that doesn't at all stick,

She's the birthday girl, you goddamn pricks!

Remember, she's seventeen,

She could run you over with her Nissan Micra,

Go cry to your mothers, you fat liars,

Her name is progress,

She said “I'm impulsive”,
I swallowed my nerve and ate my dignity,

Don't cross her! You think Thatcher was scary?

You better get out of her way, things will get...

Stupid is what she's not,

She's part of them that's got, what?

She's got ideas in her head,


Better not mess, you'll end up dead.

She's gotten emotions dripping through the pores,

(Just thought I'd let you know)

She can make stuff sparkle and glow,

This is for real! This time I'm serious,

It's her birthday, don't you know?

I said from the start, she can be amazing or meany,

She can smoke out the demons,

Why? Because it's her birthday, dontchaaa know?

You don't know?

Well, you'll end up injured, for'sho,

For a physically challenge she's notoriously bored,

Through the bad and through the rad,

This is for real. It's her 17th today,

No-one can take it away,

Give it up to a wonderful person,

Wholesome and there to the bitter end,


(if you have not guessed that)


Song: This Dreadful Weather
I think this is the reason I enjoy the sun,
Is this the season for some fun?
I don't know if the forecast is as bad as it seems.
Hopefully, it'll clear up soon, if only in my dreams,
Maybe I can hope that'll not rain at all today,
I guess hoping is all I can say,
Maybe it'll be just fine?
Maybe the sun will peek through the clouds,
Shine happiness on the world, and how!
I do not wish this joyous season to be done,
Because I want a reason to enjoy the sun,
The 30° heat,
Smiling to everyone I meet,
I want my sunshine over and out of here,
I do not want the rain; it is the clouds I fear,
Hopefully it be okay,
And the sun will shine on my little world today.

Is it right for me to become emotionally involved with people?
Women claim that they love sensitive guys. Well, I'm as sensitive as an instrument calibrated to 0.00000000000001 decimal points.


It's a Science joke.


Uhh... anyway....

I often get emotionally involved in other people. For example, strangers on the street crying evoke me to feel rather sad. I don't know why. Maybe I don't actually feel their pain. Maybe it's just a projection of what I think their pain is, put onto me.

Well, that covers strangers. That's pretty deep, isn't for strangers?

You don't know nothing.

One of my close friends was feeling rather... glum, to say the least. I had thoughts racing through my head, I re-read their words several times to get hidden meanings. It was killing me, to see them hurting themselves. I didn't know if they were crying. I assumed that they were on the verge of, and then I cried. I broke down, right there in my room.

So, is it right for me to do this? Is it right for me to project my impressions of other people's emotions onto myself?  bear in mind, this was TEXT, If it was a meatspace situation, who knows? 

Well, at least, I can't let it affect me. For some reason, afterwards, I feel okay. I feel normal-ish. Maybe this is just while the thing is going on. So afterwards, I'm fine...

I guess its the fact that I put others before myself. My first question to anyone is "how are you?" And then I press them even more to reveal exactly... how.

Well, that's great. Hopefully the woman I marry due to my hypersensitivity, will understand.

And don't worry, you. There's a lad out there for you.

(no subject)
For a week of my life I had no friends. I had lost touch with the losers and douches I associated with at school.

But I found new friends. I found people who are just like me. Not just like me... but people who are on my wavelength. It's a good thing I have those friends.

I am close to this one person, who shares the same experiences as me. They're emotional wrecks, have severe bouts of creativity, but wicked funny, and rather smart too.

They are one of the most amazing people I have ever met, and one of the most stubborn. Whereas I am Mr. Compromise they are the Bulldozer of opinion.

They talk a lot, and I listen.

Let me tell you something about friends.

You are more likely to lose weight when exercising with friends. I guess its the fact you can relax with people you know. Note: Family had little effect on weight loss.

I would say a friend is someone who understands you. Someone who will accommodate themselves to you. A friend will take all your shit, they will take all your rage, because you don't mean it at them. Better you fire at them than at the world.

My friends may hide behind screennames, but they are more real to me than anyone.

I have awesome friends.

I love my friends.

"Friend, n. - A person who will be there for you forever. And then wait a little longer."

Song: "I Can't Take All of Your Love Because I'll Die"
Based on this: - Thanks to Stolen by Faeries!

I wanted to walk alone with you,
But I'm never lonely, you see,
I catch a few of your hearts,
But it won't be long till you smother me,
When I see you first, I'm like XD, XD
When I see your love I'm like, DX, DX,
What will be next?
I can't take this any more,
Your love is crushing me to the floor,
Pretty soon I'll be XX, XX,
But you never guess what happens next,
I can see that you've fallen for me,
And I have too,
There's no-one more greater than you,
I ride upon your hearts,
It's an amazing relationship to start.

This terrible love song was inspired by the doodles some girl made in her notepad. Which is awesome, considering its a doodle. I mean... wow, you know? I managed to glean all that off... a doodle! An impressive doodle, but a picture paints a thousand words.

I've always wanted a girlfriend. According to Facebook, I do
 For the first time in 4 months I logged into my Facebook.

Therein, greeted me a wondrous surprise. "Hey Hopey! I heard you got a gf?" screamed a message from one of my friends.

You see, it's a good thing someone noticed. Problem is, I don't have a girlfriend. Not that I wanted one, I do. But this is rather strange. Nothing could express the delight or pain.

Possibly I had been set up on a blind date and I never remembered it? Nonsense. Who would set me up on such a date?

Maybe I had a girlfriend and someone saw us, but then I got amnesia and she never called? Nope. I don't know my own phone number, so how would I give it out?

AHA! Maybe it was a promotional stunt? Maybe my friend was forced to ask the question for a million pounds? That's implausible. The guy's family subsists on his father's wages solely. He wouldn't need more money.

So I replied...

"Who told you...?" I thought this would elict a response.

"Well done mate." He said. Finally. Maybe he did win a million quid.

"You didn't deny the fact!"

"How long you been going out?"

I had to respond quickly.

"Two days."

"oh. That's great."   Phew. Got myself out of that. But I wanted to end the conversation about it. I'm a terrible liar, and it'd suck for me to lie more.

"We... uhh... broke up."

"What? After two days?"

"Yeah. Yeah."


Crap. Oh crap. I had to come up with something! I typed several things into the message box (without pressing send). "She got burned in flames." No, too stupid. Women can withstand fire. "I slept with her sister." No, that's wrong. This girl does not have a sister... oh crap. In a moment of weakness, I decided to put my one flanderised trait into the message box. My brain went into autopilot.

"I disrespected her clothing. I claimed that 'her fashion choices' were terrible.

They were. Green does not go with red.

Also, she stole my jacket."

The two most lamest excuses in the world. I headdesked so hard at that. What was I thinking? I needed to write a follow-up to that. Something that could...

"It only lasted for... 27 hours. Luckily, even I - Mr. Desperate - knew she was not for me, so it was great anyway. No hard feelings at all.

Also, I added you on Twitter."

Perfect. A quick slide comment, and then disarm with the Twitter thing. Awesome. The guy knew that I was one of the only people in our group at school without a girlfriend in his past. I smiled at my achievement. Then I facepalmed at it.

But the new message symbol popped up.

"Shame bro. You ok tho?"

Phew. That was close. I had saved my skin.

"Dude, I'm fine. Seriously. She was totally not right for me. She was not me. Yeah, she was pretty, smart, but she didn't make me laugh, or anything. She was not right for me." I wrote that? God on Earth... even I now that making you laugh on a first date is an implausibility.

"Well, sounds terrible mate. Alright, good to know you're okay. You coming to 6th form next year?"

Mission accomplished. He changed the subject for me! Brilliant!

“This Poem Sucks, I Know, and Please Do Not Get Mad at the Suckiness of It, However, All the Things Within This Poem are True as the Fact that I Like Ponies, But this Unweildy Title Is Detracting from the Suckiness of the Poem, and May Actually Improve it”

She's just a flame,
Burning so it hurts,
But still so strong,
It ain't so hard for me to,
See that she,
Has more balls that me,
At times where I could cry,
She gets on with doing,
An awesome girl,
With painting skills,
Colours to flourish the sky,
Sense of humour which is pretty fly,
Really strong and smart,
My eurekas are her brain farts,
Got a skin, as thick as hell,
Nothing in her way when she says,
“I'm doing this, screw you all,”
Obstacles? What obstacles?
She breaks them down like foam,
With firey-red hair,
Fear is what she scares,
With cool-ass friends,
Whose loyalty never ends,
A woman for the world,
She makes a life worth living,
She's nothing less than stellar,
She's got 'tude in a box,
So hard-working she re-invented the meaning of amazing,
So strong-willed, she ain't crazy,
I've run out of things to say,
But there's a lot more to say anyway.
This poem does not do her justice,
Of which I am ashamed,
But to help her, is our true aim,

Wait, I wrote this? Who reads this crap anyway? I must be on drugs.

A Critique...
Please reader. I would like to claim that I am alive and well. I woke up in the Sheffield park, and now I am fine.

It appeared that the story I was in was easily availible at the behest of Google. Which was nice.

I would like to point out all the flaws in the story. It sucked. Simple as. There was no character development. Usually, there would be a few pop culture references thrown in, but no! There's like two.

Honestly. And the author... who is he? He is a hypocrite. How dare he berate the dashing, handsome, lovely young protagonist for being a fictional entity? He does not even know that he was  a character in his own story!

I was a character in a story about a story!

The poor author. He doesn't even know that he was authored by a higher entity.

I would also like to talk about the lack of a love interest for the main character. The author - the real one - claims to be a metrosexual guy. Would he not sympathise with me? NO! Of course not. The character has to suffer several times, even when during the end, he actually gets sent to another world.

Not on, man. Not on.

Now, on this 'Live Journal', obviously a crappy site for people to post their crappy crappiness full of crap, which is the story in a nutshell, I had seen this story in three parts.

The writing is also bland. Short, very short sentences. No extra words. Simple.

The final characters, both extremely one-dimensional and incredibly idiotic, were just shoehorned in due to outside meddling. I think the author has no guts at all. It's like he had a brainwave after posting it or something.

There was no description of anything and...


CRACK! <dials> Can you please get up here?

Not again... okay hotshot. You have ten seconds to get the fu... pink? Again? Are you on drugs, Hopey? Anyway... ten... nine... forget it.

<blast blast blast>

He's in New Jersey. Why in New Jersey?

Biggest hellhole I could think of.

Dude, you suck. Seriously.

But I...

You don't suck, suck... look, I've got work to do. DO NOT DRAG ME UP HERE AGAIN. I hate going through the fourth wall. Sheffield is far away from Birmingham.



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