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You're Nobody's Producer

The glow of the old school CRT monitor cast an almost sacred light on our faces, and later the Philips TV, the screen for a digital aurora in the box-room. I remember the specific thrum of the PlayStation, the click of its disc drive, and the rhythmic, almost hypnotic sequence of button presses as I meticulously layered beats and melodies. This was for his GCSE music project, a task he’d presented with a shrug and an almost imperceptible plea for help. He didn't do or say much; he rarely did. He just sat there, knees pulled up to his chest on the floor, watching me, a silent, still observer as I sculpted a rudimentary track from the limited palette of an early 2000s music creation game. His presence was like a barely perceptible hum in the room, a quiet witness to the genesis of something out of nothing. I remember thinking, in that precise moment, that he was involved. Not creatively, not actively, but his quiet watchfulness, his unblinking gaze, felt like a silent endorsement, ...

Two Polarising Figures

I've grown increasingly weary of being caught in the crossfire of debates between supporters of two polarising figures. On one side, there's a man who strikes me as flamboyantly effeminate, yet he harbours a vicious streak that belies his outward appearance. On the other side, there's an individual who resembles an ogre - not just in his brutish demeanor, but also in his tendency to gain excessive weight. The constant back-and-forth between their followers has become utterly exhausting.




At times, I find myself wondering if these people truly understand the depths of my frustration. Do they comprehend the extent to which I'm willing to go to put an end to this incessant bickering? I've even contemplated demonstrating my physical prowess, perhaps by showing them just how easily I could break their necks if pushed too far. Yet, it seems they deliberately steer clear of provoking me to that point, perhaps sensing the danger that lurks beneath my calm exterior.

As for the feminine man's attempts at viciousness, I must admit that I hold them in very low regard. His snide remarks and underhanded tactics may work on others, but they fail to faze me in the slightest. I see through his facade and recognise his cruelty for what it truly is - a desperate attempt to compensate for his own insecurities.

On the other hand, the ogre-like individual's belief in his own toughness is equally laughable. He may think that his sheer size and brutish appearance make him an unstoppable force, but I know better. Beneath that layer of fat and bravado lies a man who is just as vulnerable as anyone else. His attempts to intimidate me with his supposed hardness only serve to highlight his own fragility.

In the end, I've had quite enough of being dragged into the petty squabbles between these two camps. I long for the day when I can escape the constant barrage of insults and arguments, and live my life free from the burden of their rivalry. Until then, I'll continue to bide my time, waiting for the opportunity to break free from the shackles of this endless debate.

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