Well it's about time I wrote this all down where everyone included can read it. This is a book of quotes, funny events, and injuries (mostly from Alex) that come from all my friends/ acquaintances. Just an fyi, I'm probably going to censor these as my parents could see this one day and we all know how that would go for us. A/N: If I obtain another quote, I'll update on of these parts during the weekend (most likely)

Enter a world in which Irish Ogres reign supreme. Follow JackShrekticEye as he defeats the evil Lord Markquaad.

Just a thing...idk I fall back onto my bed, lying flat on my back, the ceiling spinning above me. I see faces and names and numbers and colours spiraling above me in the darkness, not knowing what's real and what isn't anymore...and then I sleep. I'm no longer hot and sticky, weighed down by gravity. I'm weightless in a sea of nothing and everything and thoughtless thoughtfulness. Emotion bleeds from me and yet I freely feel nothing, even as I bleed. I feel sick to my stomach and yet it's somehow comforting because I know that I'm somehow still alive in this everything of nothingness that has swallowed me whole, leaving no trace of me, and yet I'm somehow still here. The blaring colours and numbers, words and faces, names and memories, they're all grey now, washed out and faded into an unrecognisable and intangible state, not allowing me to enjoy anything anymore. I float, free and chained, and everything inside me wants to scream and fight but at the same time wants to fall silent and die into nothingness and suddenly I don't even feel weightless anymore. I can't escape the things that weigh me down, or what I've done, or who I am... So I curl up. So I fall silent. So I die. And then I wake up, grounded. Gravity...hello, old friend.

Hi, so...I'm Jack and I wrote a kinda allegory. Enjoy and tell me if you want me to write more sometime. "I'm sorry," I whisper, standing over the grave of the one I loved. "I'm so, so sorry..." "Stop it," I hear a voice say. "It wasn't your fault. You know that." "No, it was my fault," I say, tightening the grip of my left hand on my right arm to the point of leaving red marks. "I should've done something, anything to save you." "Please," the voice says. "It wasn't up to you. It was just a thing that was going to happen. I beg of you, stop crying over my demise so excessively. You're preventing me from leaving." "But I don't want you to leave!" I say frantically. "No, please, never leave me!" "Stop," the voice says softly. "Let go. You're hurting yourself." "No I'm not," I say. "I can't be hurting if I don't feel pain." "Well you're hurting me," the voice pleads slightly. "Let me go. You're holding on so tightly when I should already have gone from you." I sigh. Breathe in. Breathe out. Good ending: I let go. We both move on. We remember the good things through memories. Bad ending: I refuse to let go. I hold on until we're both worn so thin that we turn to dust. Your choice.