Good idea Bad idea
Good paragraph:
I'm the only guy left in the zombie movie who hasn't been infected by the whatever bacteria virus scum when I watch Lost. Good, smart, decent people love this show. And it's...just...awful. It's just about the worst. Even the worst stuff isn't the worst, because the WORST stuff doesn't make any pretension about not being the worst. Lost thinks very highly of itself, indeed it believes itself to be something wonderful and there are legions of intelligent, attractive people that think the same. And these people are accessory to one of the biggest con games I've ever seen in my life. It's profoundly sad.
Bad paragraph:
I feel hell tonight. That's it, the isolation that it must be. I'm not in hell, my life is not hell, I'm not feeling LIKE hell, but a part of me is taking notice of the fact that right now I feel my soul and my spirit treading dangerously on the edge of what must be like a small, tiny, sliver of hell. I'm begging God for rescue and the worst part of not feeling your prayers answered is not knowing whether they've been answered or not, the uncertainty that comes with being out of touch with the heart of Jesus Christ. What if night was eternity and you couldn't leave? What if you could never leave?
I'm the only guy left in the zombie movie who hasn't been infected by the whatever bacteria virus scum when I watch Lost. Good, smart, decent people love this show. And it's...just...awful. It's just about the worst. Even the worst stuff isn't the worst, because the WORST stuff doesn't make any pretension about not being the worst. Lost thinks very highly of itself, indeed it believes itself to be something wonderful and there are legions of intelligent, attractive people that think the same. And these people are accessory to one of the biggest con games I've ever seen in my life. It's profoundly sad.
Bad paragraph:
I feel hell tonight. That's it, the isolation that it must be. I'm not in hell, my life is not hell, I'm not feeling LIKE hell, but a part of me is taking notice of the fact that right now I feel my soul and my spirit treading dangerously on the edge of what must be like a small, tiny, sliver of hell. I'm begging God for rescue and the worst part of not feeling your prayers answered is not knowing whether they've been answered or not, the uncertainty that comes with being out of touch with the heart of Jesus Christ. What if night was eternity and you couldn't leave? What if you could never leave?