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Countries=USA

Score=30 Votes

Synopsis=A Christian documentary diving into the sex trafficking industry in the US exposing the darkness that fuels demand, highlighting survivors' transformations through Christ, and showing Christ as the hope for all involved

director=Geoffrey Rogers

release year=2020

 

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Blind eyes opened by jesus. Blind eyes opened imdb. Blind Eyes opened. Blind eyes opened movie locations. The Fate series is very important to the medium and deserves as much attention as it can get. I'll be happy if I can get at least one of you into this amazing series. Read First: /r/TypeMoon's FAQ Fate/Stay Night Visual Novel It's very understandable that most people tend to stay away from VNs. The negativism towards them is very strong, people think of them as mere porn games. But these prejudices are very similar to the unfounded beliefs that people have towards Anime (Cartoons for kids). The best way to learn what visual novels are really about is to actually play one. And for that matter, Fate/Stay Night proved itself to be, possibly, the best first step into the medium. It was widely regarded as one of the few masterpieces among the English translated visual novels and it's far different from what conventional wisdom may say about these kind of games. Even if its sexual content are minimal, it takes only one boob to consider it a game FOR ADULTS ONLY. Fate/Stay Night is the story of the 5th Holy Grail War that takes place 10 years after the 4th (Fate/Zero). The tale is told in three different ways trough it's 3 routes that branch early into the story but have an enforced playing order. 1st Route - Fate The theme is "oneself as an ideal. " This path is both an Introduction route and Saber's route. In Fate we are given most of the god-tier world-building the author Nasu is known for. It also tells the complete story about Saber, who she is and what is she after by taking part of the war. This is the core story of the Studio Deen's Fate/Stay Night anime adaptation. 2nd Route - Unlimited Blade Works Theme: "struggling with oneself as an ideal. " This is both the Archer and Tohsaka Rin route. Most of the mysteries left unanswered in the Fate scenario are revealed and things start to go very "wrong" in this route. The reveals in UBW makes you re-think everything you knew about the previous story. The sheer number of battles and popularity by the fans made this route get it's own movie adaptation. 3rd Route - Heaven's Feel Theme: "the friction with real and ideal. " This is both the Conclusion act and Matou Sakura 's Route. The increasing development of Emiya Shirou's character reaches its final act. If you thought things went wrong in UBW, this route laughs at it and redefines what the word "wrong" means. For many, this is the real story that F/SN tries to tell and delivers a truly satisfying final closure to the tale. Sadly, it has no anime adaptation as of yet. Q: How can I play this game? The game was not officially released in English (and most likely won't ever be). It was fan translated by the group mirror-moon. They have a nice FAQ on their forums. The PS2 version of the game (Realta Nua) featured a fully voiced script, additional artwork and a bigger soundtrack. These features can be imported into the PC game with a fan-made patch. The voice actor cast is the same from the F/SN anime, the Carnival Phantasm OVA parody, UBW movie and Fate/Zero, so voices should be very familiar. It takes around 50-60 hours to clear the game, it's as long as 130 anime episodes. Importing a Japanese copy is the only legal way to get it. The easiest under-handed way to get it is to find the pirate pre-patched voiced version of the game around torrent sites, it's a file that weights around 2Gb (Had more than 100 seeds last time I checked). Can't link to it, use your internet skillz to find it and download at your own risk. I won't justify nor judge piracy, but options are really limited when it comes to visual novels. If you pirated the game, read this: Extract prepatched game. Rar should be around 2Gb in size. Install this font (It'd come with the the mirror moon patch that we skipped installing). Apply Realta Nua v4. 2 (and the little fix). Open game, the prologue starts right away. Look for the Settings menu. Set the fonts to "Mona: krkr2 ver. by mirror moon". They look better. Let me remind you that this is a game for adults. There was a censoring patch being developed but the project has been stalled for two years already. So there isn't any "All-Ages" English version of the game. Luckily, the are very few erotics scenes and they can be skipped through rapidly with the CTRL key. Post at r/visualnovels if you have any other question or if you want to talk about the game. It's a slow sub-reddit but we'll love to hear about your experience. Fate/Zero It's the light novel prequel to F/SN. Written by the famous genius writer Gen Urobuchi (Madoka Magica, Saya no Uta). Fate/Zero develops the story of the 4th Holy Grail War that takes place in the same location but 10 years prior to the events of F/SN. The anime adaptation was produced by the studio Ufotable. Music composed by none other than Kajiura Yuki, whose past works should talk by themselves. And directed by Ei Aoki (Kara no Kyoukai, Ga-Rei: Zero). It's safe to say that Fate/Zero was produced by an almost all-star staff. The treatment it got was more than just "special". F/Z marked the first time in the industry's history that an anime gets free streamed on a world wide scale subtitled in 8 different languages (Korean, Chinese (Traditional & Simplified), English, French, German, Italian, and Spanish). I hope that some of you understand the importance of this step taken with Fate/Zero. Fate/Zero was very well received, qualified as "magnificent" by most anime fans; it is currently considered the best Type-Moon adaptation and one of the highest quality anime that ever aired in Japanese TV for it's movie-like production values. Frequently Asked Questions Q: I'm new to the series. What's the BEST way to get into it? Brave ^Mode - This is a "release date" order. Recommended by veteran fans. Fate/Stay Night Visual Novel Unlimited Blade Works Movie Fate/Zero (BluRay*) Q: But I'm not really into VNs / I don't have the time. Is there any another way to do this? Alter ^Mode Fate/Zero (BluRay*) Fate/Stay Night Visual Novel Unlimited Blade Works Movie Recommended fansub group: [UTW] *The BD version of the anime features unaired footage and useful extra content. Q: Why Fate/Zero first? I've been told that it spoils many F/SN twists That is true. There are many F/SN major twists that F/Z spoils in Episode 1. It's quite the dilemma as there's not really a "best" answer because the visual novel spoils a lot about F/Z too. So, reasons to watch F/Z first: Fate/Zero is the beginning of the whole story. Fate/Zero is shorter. This also makes the commitment smaller, so it's easier to get into the series. The reveals in F/Z may upgrade the Fate/Stay Night experience. Many character interactions gain a new meaning thanks to certain knowledge (Opinions territory). Fate/Stay Night reveals too much about F/Z. Ending, outcome of the war, etc. This may damage the F/Z experience for some viewers (Opinions territory). Q: I watched Fate/Zero EP1 but I don't understand what's going on. Fate/zero: How the Holy Grail War stuff works. This an amazing post by meteorMatador about the Nasuverse. Some of his words: "Part of the explanation will be consolidated and rephrased here for the benefit of people who just want to watch their Japanese animes, without having to find and play the game first. " Q: What about the F/SN anime, should I watch it? The Studio Deen adaptation of F/SN is far from the masterwork done with F/Z. People who watch it will find a fairly good shonen action show with a very ambitious premise but poorly executed (kinda like Guilty Crown except that there's no the eye-candy and no good music). Also, by using the "Fate" route as the core story, watchers will have to bear the underdeveloped version of Emiya Shirou (hard to relate to and care about). So: It's ok to watch it if you really can't get yourself to play the Visual Novel. But I don't recommend at all watching the F/SN anime AFTER Fate/Zero. It's 100% sure that it will greatly disappoint the viewer. After F/Z, I recommend to play the VN. Q: And the UBW movie? How good it is? Sadly, you'll not enjoy it much if you go "blind" into it. It was tailored for those who actually played the game. The movie focuses mostly on the battles and skips most of the character development and there's no world building. There just wasn't any way that Deen would manage to squish a 20hr long route into a 2hr long movie. Seriously, for its lack of story and character development, this movie may be worth a thread in /r/WTF. But you'll love it if you watch it after playing the VN. Related Links r/typemoon Type-Moon Wiki (Spoilers in many articles) mirror moon r/visualnovels.

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Blind eyes opened full movie. Blind eyes opened scripture. Blind eyes opened movie youtube. Blind eyes opened dvd release date. I was sprawled on the couch, idly watching TV, when my friend Dennis phoned me up. My mobile was plugged into a charger in the kitchen, and the vibrating noise began to drone incessantly. As it rang, my girlfriend Eileen was sitting at the kitchen table, colouring in the squares of crosswords in that day's newspaper with a black texta (Australian Marker Pen) -- (She'd already drawn fake eyebrows and moustaches on all the faces in the paper's many photographs --as she is in the hobby of doing of a Sunday). I have no idea why she does it, or why she even buys the newspaper. Who reads the news anymore anyway right? -- except maybe from off of the internet, or facebook feed. Anyway, Eileen was quick to grab my phone, when it rang that evening, and came in to hand it to me, in the lounge room, as I lay there, the name -- Dennis Cromwell -- displaying clearly on the screen. It was peak evening viewing time, (you know around... 8:30? ). Around the time when you actually begin to temporarily believe 'the idiot box' -- and tune out to the sermon of the daily corporate programming -- of all that numbing status quo. I was semi-relaxed -- and feeling lethargic -- not really in the frame of mind to socialise. My best friend Dennis has a habit of contacting me routinely every Sunday. He lives a few blocks down the road from me, and usually invites me over to show me something new about his back garden at least once or twice a week. (Dennis has an intense passion for landscape gardening, (and plant and herb cultivation), to the point of obsession). But this particular Sunday, he was unusually distressed. I told him upfront that there was no way I was going anywhere that evening. He then, flatly, asked me what I was doing Monday morning, and I apologised, but told him, extremely frankly, that I had a freelance job, (I'm a writer by profession for your information --though I generally write for lifestyle magazines, and am not accustomed to telling 'spooky stories'). I told Dennis that I had to work on this article for a catalogue which my editor wanted by Wednesday. Dennis pleaded with me so furiously, and told me that he needed my help-- in a tone of such sincere desperation-- demanding that I come around first thing in the morning. I struggled to say 'NO' to his anxious voice, and eventually assured him i'd be around at 9:00. Then I hung up and went back to zoning-out to the boob-tube. Eileen briefly asked me what Dennis had wanted, and I told her that he'd asked me to go around to his house tomorrow, and that I didn't know why. Before returning to her crossword, she briefly nagged me --that I simply HAD to remember to phone somebody about the leak in the roof tomorrow, and not to spend all day with Dennis. (We've got a hole in our ceiling, which is leaking water from one of the bathrooms in the apartments above us. The hole has caused a kind of grotesque mould patch to form on the white plaster, and the whole apartment smells unbearably like dead plants, or pea soup). I assured her that I would sort it out---quickly forgetting all about the Dennis situation, until the next day. I woke up early the next morning, and had a shower -- leaving my apartment for Dennis' at about 8:25. To give you some context, I live in an area of Hexton-- near the coast of Sydney, Australia. The area is called Kings Cross, and I live in a quaint old apartment at no. 10 Hardie Street: MY APARTMENT -- 'THE SAVOY': A PHOTO OF MYSELF, OUTSIDE MY APARTMENT -- 'THE SAVOY': Dennis lives about an eight minute walk away from my place, in a quiet street towards Elizabeth Bay called 'Roslyn Gardens'. I bought myself a coffee and a sandwich from a cafe that Monday morning, on the way down to his place. Then began walking down Bayswater Road. I had to cross the path of the creepy apartment on Dennis' road, which always gives me the chills for some reason. I really have no idea why. It's not dillapitated or gothic. It's just this unusual white building with no windows or doors called 'Aquarius'. There's a really long passageway that leads down towards it, and I often find myself staring ominously down -- wondering about the inhabitants of the building, or pondering who designed such a weird windowless structure ---and why the path is so long and narrow. THE ROUTE BETWEEN THE TWO APARTMENTS: 'AQUARIUS' - THE CREEPY PROPERTY ON DENNIS' STREET: 'LAKEMOUNT' - DENNIS' APARTMENT: This information may or may not be relevant to my strange experience the week following Dennis initial phone-call. I figure maybe if I share everything that happened with you all, in detail, you might be in a better position to understand what I experienced than I am myself. Because I remain, currently, utterly clueless to the meaning of my recent experience of inane terror. As a background to why Dennis may have been under an appreciable mental strain -- perhaps I should explain that he recently has been undergoing the beginnings of a potential legal divorce battle with his wife. Whilst the two of them are still living together, it seems almost certain now, that Dennis and Miriam will be separating. Every time I see Dennis, there is a different mood about the break up. Though Dennis himself, is obviously completely miserable -- One day he will tell me confidently they are back on, the next week it's off, and his moods submit to an emotional rollercoaster -- which I think is why he has been spending more and more time gardening, as an escape from the trauma of his disintegrating relationship. I don't have much to offer by way of consolation. My situation couldn't be more different from his. Eileen and I have only been together for a few years, and whilst we have a few commitment issues occasionally, generally we couldn't be happier. Really its a kind of twilight, honeymoon phase for her and I, and I find myself with absolutely no basis to give Dennis the advice he needs re: divorce. That Monday I visited him, it was apparent that his mental deterioration had reached a new level. Dennis has no history of psychological illness in his family as far as i'm aware, nor had he previously showed-- any early warning signs of schizophrenia, however, the minute I walked into his Lakemount garden that Monday-- I knew instinctively that something was terribly wrong with his state of mental well being. He seemed to have completely forgotten the desperation with which he had called me in Sunday's mania, and was now only obsessing compulsively over elements of his garden. Presumably, he and Miriam had had another fight the previous night-- and whilst he had been desperate to talk about it on Sunday, he had now-- switched back to the denial phase of his psychological stages of coping with trauma. Dennis' garden is extremely beautiful. Because his apartment is on the ground floor of the Lakemount building-- he somehow got the prime real estate, and the entire garden is considered his tennable property. The space is relatively small, (about 40 square metres), but Dennis has utilised the space to it's fullest, with beautiful stone masonry, tall sculpted hedges, red and yellow flower beds and herb gardens -- then in the centre of it --- is a beautiful Italian fountain balanced upon a grey-stone statue of the Hindu deity Ganesh. (The elephantine looking god of that religion). A large proportion of the garden is a well maintained lawn, of thick healthy grass. As I found Dennis that morning, he was engaged in the most mysterious act, crouching beneath the statue of Ganesh --holding a sloppy paintbrush, above a large tin of white household paint --- and he was bizzarrely, and furiously painting the green grass --a thick coat of white!! When I approached him, and asked him why he was so sloppily painting his garden with a thick coat of white house paint -- he launched into the most insane diatribe of paranoid word-salad imaginable. I had a mind to call the physicians at Bourkeley institution there and then, to come and grant him the soft comfort of a white padded cell-- however, remembering what a close friend he was, I made it my mission to try and appreciate his mental stress, and bring him back to ordinary thoughts. I'll tell you now -- in my own words ---what I remember Dennis to have said that morning, though I fear I won't be able to perfectly capture the immeasurable horribleness, and sadness of it: 'White ---is the only colour which can stop it. ' I think was the first thing he said to me, in a cracked, high-pitched voice. I raised my eyebrows in desperate concern as he began his frightening sililoquy; 'Ideas can travel through colours, that's how they get at you. Have you ever wondered why they use certain colours in church stain-glass windows? The light picks up on particular colours, in a very precise way, and only certain waves can travel through them--- which enhances the euphoria of the sunlight. You don't believe me? Did you see the newspaper headlines yesterday? They've taken pictures of gravity waves now! Do you know what that means? Einsteins theories about the relativity of space and time, were not only RIGHT... they were primitive! Gravity waves! Waves of time and space, are flowing all around us all the time -- we are surrounded by an aura of flickering time-space -- a fragile field of temporal reality -- caging the illusion of all we hold dear and take for granted! The air itself is an ocean of rippling time-space! ' Even at this early point of his mad ravings, I moved over to him awkwardly, wanting to touch or hug him, or pull the paintbrush out of his hand -- to give him what he really craved, (emotional devotion and human affection). Still -- unable to interrupt, I basically just stood and listened as he continued the insane speech: 'Miriam has been having dreams about plants for months. Do you know, that's what all of this talk of separating is really about? You remember I told you months ago she was afraid she might be getting breast cancer? It was all because of the dreams she was having. But then she went to get a blood test, and she told me-- that when it came out of her arm, the blood was green! Well, I didn't think anything of it at the time of course, as you know, Miriam is partially colour blind, and sometimes mistakes red for green. Of course, the doctor comforted her too, saying that such results were coming back more and more frequently, and that he didn't think any of the human gods were alive anymore now at all! (She goes to those classes at the hindu temple). You know? But I think i've begun to understand a lot more since i've been gardening, recently. I realise that my life makes sense, and everything happens for a reason. I understand how the ideas get at you. Have a look at that old gum tree there. ' Dennis pointed up to a particular twisted, pale-lime, gnarled gum-tree in his back yard. 'It's a real beauty that old gum! I was thinking of cutting it down because of the colour of it, but then I realised that it wasn't my place to do so! Think about it. Every single civilisation has had some form of archetypal version of 'the tree of knowledge' or 'the sacred tree', do you know what I mean?.. of course, you're thinking of the serpent in the garden of Eden. That's a colour idea. The whole thing. But do you know the Norse had something called Ygg Drasil -- a huge tree which all the worlds were built on?? Then the Ancient Greeks had the Hespirades -- the tree bearing the fruits of immortality! That gum tree there is probably only a hundred years old? But then, you know -- there would have been trees standing here, right in this spot -- 10, 000 years ago when the aboriginals were here! Im talking about a culture completely independent of Europe or the America's! Before Western civilisation begun! Human beings were right here with these trees for thousands upon thousands of years ---without European ideas or languages ever getting anywhere near us! That's Australia. Knowledge long dead --and--- The trees are older than we are!! ' I kept trying to console him, and tell him to stop painting and sit down for a minute, but whenever I tried to reach for the brush, he would get furious at me, yelling: 'I'm telling you, I have to paint out the colour, so the evil-god leaves the quadrant of Lakemount and Roslyn Gardens-- I have to do it before it eats Miriam. Get off me!! Have I ever lied to you?? It happened months ago, when Miriam started having the dreams. Do you think i'm making this up? I started having dreams too-- last week! I thought Miriam was making it up too, at first, when she said she spoke to the 'olive man'-- but now I know ---she wasn't lying. It speaks to you! In the voices on the television and the radio! It's always whispering! In the trees. Consciousness itself ---is just a frequency of the whispers of that ancient thing. It's more Ancient than any of the thoughts of mammals. It's been here for millions of years. Think about that! Millions of years! Back when the whole world was covered in plants, even before the dinosaurs were roaming around. I think it called itself 'the opener of pores' back then. It's descended from the minds of plants, and it's brothers still feel the way they did back when they had a falling out with the birds and dinosaurs. They don't like skin. That's why they try to send the ideas, and grow things inside our brains. ' I noticed that Dennis had dripped the white paint all over his own clothes now, and I could see that he had even started painting half of the gum tree he'd been pointing at earlier. He wiped a big smear of white paint over his forehead as he looked at me with big, wet eyes. 'I found out that I could call out to the thing, and it would answer me. It was these pre-conceived religious ideas in me that made me thought it wanted me to pray to it, at first ---but it's much too big for such a banal a purpose as that. It has so many names! I called him Mr-Chartreuse, as a test of our friendship, and he told me that was a fine name for him. He was pleased with me too, when I was trying to decode the messages. I write something on a piece of paper, and then let it get into the pen, to tell me what it was thinking, or what it wants me to do. But then he wasn't happy with that anymore, and he told me to call him President of the moss. Then yesterday -- I called him Dr Sea-foam -- and he got angry. The energy is everywhere here. It's everywhere. I can feel it when I smell those horrible pores in the grass!. ' He then splattered an immense dollup of white paint in front of him, and covered another huge patch of dry, green grass. His ravings got more and more demented. I was so concerned, but the only thing I thought I could do was to leave him temporarily alone, and hope he could find his reason, deep inside him. I knew that during psychosis, the worse thing to do was to encourage somebody's delusions. As I was leaving, Dennis rushed inside and grabbed something, dripping paint everywhere along the concrete pavement as he went. He was determined that he could prove it to me. Whatever his theory was, about his need to paint the grass white. He came out with a piece of paper and shoved it in my hand. 'This is where I downloaded it from. The idea. If you don't believe me -- look it up for yourself. Zobrazit! Look it up! The president of the moss -- he showed me where I could find it. It's his story. His thoughts! ' I left Dennis' house hurriedly, feeling guilty at abandoning him in such a manic state, but I was utterly unable to cope with the pressure of managing his mental breakdown. I simply wasn't trained for that sort of thing. I thought again about calling the doctors at Bourkely institution, and getting a professional to handle it --- but some compassion within me, some friendly aspect, couldn't do it. I felt as though I would be turning him in, ratting out a mate. I simply had to believe that he would recover from this---- That he would pull through by the next time I saw him. I looked at the crumpled piece of paper he had shoved in my hand, even his handwriting seemed erratic and wild -- like a three year old child's. The note only had a couple of words on it-- 'Zobrazit' --which was written across the page in huge shivery letters, then there was a smaller note beneath it which just had the name and html address of a website called 'The black vine'. When I got back home, first I cursed myself. The roof was leaking worse than it had been previously, and I remembered that I had forgot to call a repairman, or the plumber. Eileen would kill me if she came home, and I had done nothing. I turned my PC on, and googled the name of a local repairman and called the number on my mobile. I was advised there would be a waiting time of ten minutes minimum, so I sat down and listened to the nauseating hold music, which was something like an electronic keyboard rendition of 'Waltzing Matilda'. As I sat there on hold, trying to block my nose from that horrible pea-soup smell coming from the leaking roof in my apartment, and swiveling in my swivel chair -- my hands darted around subconciously looking for something to do. They came upon the scrap of paper Dennis had given me, and sickly intrigued, I popped up two windows in my PC browser, and in one I google searched 'Zobrazit', and in the other I entered the html-digits of the 'black vine' website. The sounds of Waltzing Matilda were running through my head in repuslive, electronic pulses -- and further fuelled the strange sickness that started to come over me. Nothing much came up from my googling of 'Zobrazit', a lot of Czech web pages and some random youtube videos of chattering foreigners. Meanwhile "The black vine" webpage loaded up slowly, and when it came, I realised it was some kind of pirate-torrent-site -- like Pirate bay -- (But judging from the illustrations, it had an occult or religious theme) - 'The black Vine: A Place to download obscure, rare, illegal, occult and independent media' -- is what the graphic bar at the top of the black-and-red page said. Suddenly, I was hooked in the mystery. I typed 'Zobrazit' into the search bar, and hit enter -- expecting nothing to come, yet, immediately a movie torrent appeared --named 'Zobrazit - a cartoon in green'. My mind almost imploded with fear, but then, I started to rationalise -- thinking that there was probably plenty of truth amidst Dennis' illogical word salad. He probably had downloaded this movie, whatever it was, and it may well have formed part of his complex delusional state, that wasn't so unusual. For all I knew, it was probably pornography, after all, what else do you download from such a secretive torrent website? The site was probably swarming with paedophiles, and worse. Curiosity got the better of me, however, and I clicked on the Zobrazit torrent -- whereupon quickly I was informed the download would take three or four minutes. As I sat there, brooding, on hold, I noticed also that there were two comments attached to the 'Zobrazit' torrent, so I quickly opened them. The first one was from the host of the torrent, and said 'Warning: May cause blindness. ' Then the second was a longer paragraph from someone who had downloaded the file, which said; 'Holy crapballs. This is legit! How has the interweb not gone insane over this. I just watched this whilst I was stoned and I think I lost a part of myself i'm never going to get back. You know what this is right? I found about this from 4chan. Anybody thinking about downloading this file, ought to read this first:' Following his comment, the user had left a link to an archived creepy pasta from a forum called 4chan. This is the exact link, for the curious: 'ZOBRAZIT' ARTICLE FROM '4CHAN' /x/ FORUM: I became thoroughly intrigued, and frightened. After doing some more web research, I shortly discovered that speculation about the 'Zobrazit' -- (Rough Chech translation - 'The Great Show') -- involved many intricate, inter-related conspiracy theories. Among various tenuous links, I found theories that the 'Zobrazit' had allegedly manifested itself in various forms -- including as recently as 2012. During this year, many anonymous members of 4chan --who claimed that they had downloaded the 'Zobrazit' file after becoming involved in an online journal called 'VOX'. Users associated with that journal, claim that the journal itself was hijacked by an occult group calling themselves 'The Cult of Saturn', one of the members of which, named 'Gwynn Earl' apparently attempted to recreate, or re-direct a modern version of 'Zobrazit' -- and met with speedy mental deterioration. THE JOURNAL WHERE MEMBERS CLAIMED TO HAVE SEEN 'ZOBRAZIT': AN ARTICLE, APPARENTLY EXPOSING THE ALLEGED '4CHAN CULT' WHO HIJACKED THE VOX JOURNAL, A MEMBER OF WHICH IS ALLEGED TO HAVE CREATED A VERSION OF 'ZOBRAZIT': THE ANIMATOR WHO WAS PART OF THE CULT, SUPPOSEDLY ANIMATED THESE INSANE, GLITCHY CARTOONS: I really can't tell you if any of those links are meaningful or relevant to my own horrid experience. But I can tell you, I did find one more strange clue, or piece of evidence in the mysterious puzzle, before the Zobrazit link finally downloaded, and I watched the green cartoon. It was just this weird letter, allegedly from Walt Disney studios: THE LETTER FROM WALT DISNEY STUDIO'S: There's not that much more to tell you. After the torrent file had finished downloading, I plugged the HDMI cable into my TV, and sat down on the couch to watch the film (Which was eight minutes and twenty-four seconds). It was probably the craziest 2D animated film I had ever seen. The whole thing was coloured-green, but the animation was extremely detailed. I remember manic characters jumping through obscene landscapes, lewd images, and grotesque acts of violence. I remember that the whole thing made me sick -- but I couldn't turn away. There was this snowman character smoking blunts, and the green ice would melt, then there'd be shapes dancing around in this psychadelic field of green energy. Then--- the animation itself, seemed to come to life -- outside of the screen -- dancing into the air. I actually pulled my phone out to take pictures of the crazy imagery. Whatever that thing did to my brain, I know i'll never quite be the same. I stopped and deleted the file about half way through -- when I literally couldn't watch it any more. Two minutes later -- I threw up in the toilet ---I never fixed the leaky roof that day--- Eileen was mad, but once she heard about Dennis she forgave me. It's really terrible. We found out on Wednesday that Dennis had killed himself inside his own flat. Miriam had come home, and found that he had painted their couch white, then slit his wrist with a sharp kitchen knife. I just wish I had've called the doctors while I had the chance. I wish this experience was gone from me. I never really want to hear about 'Zobrazit' or 'the president of the moss' ever again, frankly. I don't know why i'm sharing this story. Maybe, I just feel like it needs to be told. I never deleted those photo's from my phone. Admittedly, every time I have looked at them, they have just looked like blank green screens. But when Eileen saw them she told me she saw a cartoon elephant in one of the photos. When I looked again --I still couldn't see it. I'll post the photo's for you guys anyway, least I can do. If you want to risk the insanity -- by all means -- take a look. There was one other weird thing that happened to me since I watched the green cartoon. I don't know if it was a coincidence -- or if I was just imagining the similarity. On a sad, Sunday after Dennis' memorial -- I was walking along Dennis' road -- down on Roslyn Gardens -- passing by that strange old white house 'Aquarius' -- I saw that it had some graffiti tagged on the outside. It seemed like it must've been there for a long time -- though i'd never noticed it before ---because most of the paint had worn away. I was SURE i'd seen the strange kangaroo character in the green cartoon, and yet, how can you be sure? How can you be sure? THE KANGAROO I SAW PAINTED ON THE AQUARIUS BUILDING: THE PHOTOS I TOOK OF THE GREEN CARTOON:.

Blind eyes opened poster. Blind eyes opened running time. Blind eyes opened wiki. Photos Add Image Add an image Do you have any images for this title? Learn more More Like This Comedy 1 2 3 4 5 6 7 8 9 10 6. 7 / 10 X This bizarre retro comedy, shot entirely on VHS and Beta, follows 12-year-old Ralph as he accidentally records home videos and his favorite late night shows over his parents' wedding tape. Director: Jack Henry Robbins Stars: Kerri Kenney, Thomas Lennon, Mark Proksch Action | Biography Drama 7. 5 / 10 Marcus Luttrell and his team set out on a mission to capture or kill notorious Taliban leader Ahmad Shah, in late June 2005. Marcus and his team are left to fight for their lives in one of the most valiant efforts of modern warfare. Peter Berg Mark Wahlberg, Taylor Kitsch, Emile Hirsch Documentary Music 7. 4 / 10 Ghost Pictures and Passion Pictures and a documentary feature about the troubled heart and soul of Michael Hutchence, lead singer and songwriter of INXS. Richard Lowenstein Michael Hutchence, Helena Christensen, Bob Geldof Thriller A home schooled teenager begins to suspect her mother is keeping a dark secret from her. Aneesh Chaganty Sarah Paulson, Pat Healy, Kiera Allen Sci-Fi 9. 4 / 10 While doing research, a group of young geniuses accidentally stumble upon a secret terrorist plot to create a time machine to go back in time and change history. Jim Carroll Donny Boaz, Heidi Montag, Susan Gallagher Fantasy 6. 1 / 10 A man is brought back from the dead to work in the hell of sugar cane plantations. 55 years later, a Haitian teenager tells her friends her family secret - not suspecting that it will push one of them to commit the irreparable. Bertrand Bonello Louise Labeque, Wislanda Louimat, Katiana Milfort Mystery 5 / 10 Storyline dealing with the late musician, David Bowie. Liz Manashil Ann Dowd, Kimball Farley, Laura Holliday 3. 5 / 10 A family man struggling to hold it all together discovers a hidden parlor that offers a xbots. Princeton Holt Dean Cain, Stormi Maya, Stefanie Bloom 8. 9 / 10 Afterward delves into the secret wounds carried by victims as well as victimizers, through testimonies ranging from the horrifying to the hopeful. 7. 3 / 10 Details the year leading to the assassination of Israel's Prime Minister, Yitzhak Rabin (1922-1995), from the point of view of the assassin. Yaron Zilberman Yehuda Nahari Halevi, Amitay Yaish Ben Ousilio, Anat Ravnitzki 6 / 10 An insurance lawyer goes out on the town to celebrate an upcoming promotion with his co-worker, Jeff. But their night takes a turns bizarre when Frank is dosed with a hallucinogen that completely alters his perception of the world Gille Klabin Justin Long, Tommy Flanagan, Katia Winter Horror 6. 3 / 10 Miriam, Derek, Ian, and Jenny are overachieving high school students doing everything by the book. Straight A's, sports, yearbook, band, and - when coursework allows - planning and executing elaborate murders. Ray Xue Keenan Tracey, Brittany Raymond, Spencer Macpherson Edit Storyline A Christian documentary diving into the sex trafficking industry in the US exposing the darkness that fuels demand, highlighting survivors' transformations through Christ, and showing Christ as the hope for all involved. Plot Summary Add Synopsis Details Release Date: 23 January 2020 (USA) See more  » Also Known As: Blind Eyes Opened Box Office Cumulative Worldwide Gross: $234, 505 See more on IMDbPro  » Company Credits Technical Specs See full technical specs  ».

Blind eyes opened theatres. Blind eyes opened youtube. I am a product. Disney is my childhood. Nintendo is my childhood. Every franchise being milked right now is sadly my nostalgia from the 80s to the 90s to the early 2000s. Anything that I like about myself can be easily bought in a store or sold online. For cheap. That's why I don't like myself much anymore. He is a critic. He is known as the niche little corner of YouTube. Every mediocre film he and his group of friends and staff designate it so. Honestly, he just takes the sway of the internet's opinion. If everyone feels it's overrated on Rotten Tomatoes, he will attack it. If it gets under 50%, he destroys it. He panders to the online public and caters to outraged fans. However, he is a funny guy and despite how much he attacks things I love, I also strangely found myself loving to watch his videos. I have downloaded all of them. I can't get enough of the guy. He cheers me up. Which is why one day we had to meet. Since I was twelve I had struggled with depression as soon as all my friends left me in little "clicks" all over the place to each lunch in junior high. In elementary I felt more united with my friends. The same class homeroom. The same teacher. The same faces. Back then I knew everyone by name. I got a gist of each personality quirk, interest, and general idea of who they are when I am with them. Samantha loved dogs. Blake wanted to be president one day. Valerie was an aspiring actress. Elise was the smartest girl in the classroom. Luís was the most fun to be around, even though he teases everyone. Nobody could get what Chadwick was always thinking, he was the gentle giant of the group. I loved my friends. I didn't move away. They didn't move away. Somehow, I think, we were still able to move away from each other. By high school I Google searched ways to commit suicide. On an anonymous chat, one random forum member messaged me that he hoped I was joking, and I shouldn't do any of this. I looked up strangulation. Suffocation. Electrocution. Drug overdose. All of it. I just had no access to a knife, a gun or explosives (yet). Sometimes I think why don't I just hang myself so someone can "Logan Paul" my swaying body in a vlog, only also pull down their pants and underwear to start twerking their bare ass in my face while laughing for subscribers? That sounds like something you'd watch. A "Try Not To Laugh Challenge" for the guffawing chorus that reflects the social emptiness that is inside all of you, while the rest of you rage-comment on the situation to make yourself into the better person you only think you are by simply addressing that.... look, I always know that I want to die. When I was caught with pills in the kitchen by my mom she connected it to my teachers at PTA meetings always bringing up how jaded I am in the classroom and every time I was called on I wouldn't respond. It worried them. It worried them because I never graduated high school. I was a high school dropout. I dropped out because, as they said, "I wasn't even trying. " Sure that didn't stop my mom from registering me for college a few years later. Tired of babysitting me for my safety, or seeing me simply spend hours or even days watching anime I downloaded off of an online torrent. Those anime girls look cute, the artwork and backgrounds are detailed even in the worst anime, the music is always nice in those shows, and I always enjoy seeing something I am not familiar with. I even catch myself pausing a video subtitle on the top with that lesson for Western audiences what a particular word, object or phrase means. The only thing I know about Japan is that they made all my favorite video games. Those make me happy. Now here is something strange you need to understand when someone struggling with depression says something makes them "happy. " What it does is comfort us a little bit as a sort of distraction. Then, if for any reason, we project ourselves as the hero of the story or game, or simply wish we could spend time with the characters. Talk to them. Work out the problems they display all the time. Make them my new friends. Have them count of me as the chosen hero to save their world. It actually makes me sad. For one, this is a work of fiction. Why am I, like a child, longing to escape my own reality and gullibility feel so much for something pretend? Second, watching it does not really inspire me or anything like that. All it does it remind me of other things and my memory creates this nexus where I link different unrelated things to each other at the speed of thought. So I will watch an anime, feel something familiar, remember some show I used to watch a long time ago as a little kid, or even an old video game I miss playing. Happy Meal toys or movie tie in video games. Musical notes that sound or feel similar, for example. Then it triggers feelings of nostalgia. Then pining to erase the now and go to the then. Then it hits me, I can't escape. That depresses me. Then I fall into it. So even when I say something makes me happy, that doesn't mean I will "feel better about myself. " I just remember my past. Something about myself. Even things I used to like. I am nothing more than a product. Everything reminds me of the life I sucked away into those things. The cartoons I watched growing up, the toys I played with, the candy I ate, every single one was the same. Each would connect to any event or place in my past. A small micro Godzilla set I had once reminds me of spending the day at my grandmother's house. I remember losing it under her couch in '97. Now, years later, I still can't find it on Amazon but I swear it was on eBay back in 2006. I didn't grow up alone. I had a little brother, Tyler. My mom lived with her current boyfriends at the time, and each time they knew they didn't have to do much to warm up to me. I was the easiest to please. They can come home with a Happy Meal, and I would excitedly open the small plastic bag to get at the licensed toy. They'd put on a show on TV, I'd start watching it and absorb each damn thing like a sponge. My little brother wasn't so easy to win over. He wouldn't trust them. They would cater to him as if he were the one they were dating. They would ask if anything they do is alright and if he needs anything from the kitchen. One of them wasn't though, an abusive alcoholic who had a negative episode that startled me and my brother, and when we both saw him hit mom, it was over. Things weren't always perfect but my family, with the rotating "father figures" and mom and Tyler. We had each other, and I figured things could work out. I remember drinking a Pepsi with a logo of a movie "now in theaters". My mom was really late picking up Tyler from school. I stayed home because it was Senior ditch day and I binge-watched DVDs that were strewn about the dark living room. Mom opened the door, kissed my cheek (she never does that) and asked me what I was watching. I told her it was just a cartoon on Nickelodeon. Tyler stumbled though the door right as mom told me. And when she told me, I spat out Pepsi everywhere. Tyler had onset leukemia. Mom drove him away from me while I cried in my bedroom knowing I was going to lose my only brother. There was this comedy, I won't name it, but Tyler loved it. He really spend all day and watched it all the time at the hospital. I was relieved when I visited him that he wasn't upset. He wasn't crying or any of that. He enjoyed watching it over and over because it did something to him. It made him laugh. "Tyler, do you like this movie? " Tyler looked at me with an added color to his pale demeanor. His smile, while to me seemed forced, wasn't unnatural for a kid who went through as much as he did, but still finding ways to keep going. He succeeded. All he did was turn his head to me, and nodded. It was Tyler's favorite show and I would watch it, forever creating the memory of watching something with my smiling brother before he died later that year in August. At the funeral my mother was alone (she was recently single after her latest break-up) and I was feeling terrible. From all the media I grew up with I was looking around expecting rain. None came, other than the raindrops on the faces of my mom, Tyler's best friend Cody, and me as we all stared at the little jar that had his ashes. At the reception I stood at the refreshment table for a long, long time, as though that were Tyler's grave. I was twelve when Tyler died. At the time I went to junior high it only got worse, as you well know... I was around school at lunch trying to make pretty girls like me as some kind of rebound. If I had been drinking, at least that could have been an excuse. But no, I had to be a mental case who scared every female friend away. I needed to change focus. I decided to pursue college and since I was a big fan of "Finding Nemo" I found myself studying marine biology with almost as much interest as a show. That should tell you something. I was hooked and did VERY well on tests for these sorts of classes. I was paying attention to water temperatures and consistency, the delicate ecosystem of the wildlife, and the excitement of going diving to see the kelp forests myself. I got accepted into a university in California and even got a miraculous grant from the marine biology lab. Even when working for the future, I still found myself not wanting it. I'm just a stupid product. Then one day I was chatting with a strange user on a TOR network on how to set up something for my next suicide attempt when the browser crashed the computer. I turned it off and went to the next one. I was at a UCSB computer lab, after all. They have so many empty labs in this one building I was in I think I saw this one fat guy binge-watching Pornhub for a good 8 hours jacking it directly under the camera so as not to be seen. I saw him, but I wouldn't report him if it meant people asked what I was doing. I think UCSB campus police are still looking for him. On the other Windows XP computer there, I surfed on YouTube for a bit before I came across the name of a show I recognized. It was a critic of sorts in a thumbnail flipping me off with the film's title directly overhead. Now, since the computer was shit and the bandwidth was lousy on these things, it was loading the video more akin to my grandmother's computer up in Sacramento, who had dial-up. Eventually the video began to buffer, but not before an ad. I grew up as an ad. I was an ad. So I let it pass. Then it was over. After failing to hitting "skip ad" I still had to wait for the video itself to load. I hate that I had to sit through the buffering of the ad before it can process the video I actually want to watch. Why did I watch it? I guess I was curious. I wanted to know what someone would say about the film. He said enough to convince me that it was lazily written, poorly acted, and sloppily edited. Scene by scene he pointed out to me that all my good memories about this thing was a lie, and that I need to have better taste. Hollywood shits out lazy movies like this to this day, and I still can't believe that I bought into it, even as a child, hook line and sinker. Actually it wasn't a surprise. I am their little product, after all. I tried watching Tyler's movie from time to time to actively depress myself so I can have the companionship of his memory. The film in question isn't considered to be very funny, and is highly criticized online, hence why I won't name it. I remember the hurt I felt from seeing everyone tell me how unfunny and stupid the movie is, as if it were from Happy Madison. If I had seen it on my own, I would understand this. It is bad, if you look at it that way. But I saw how much it cheered up Tyler, his body still managing smiles after intense chemotherapy sessions that made him look as tired as he did happy. Nostalgia is such a sweet wine that I have to ask: Can a bad movie give you good memories? Like it did for my brother? I am still a product, so how can I know. I'm far too biased and easy to please. With the rich franchise history I grew up with, I have no "favorites, " if anything it always rotates. Movies exist to entertain. Toys exist to be played with. Music is meant to be heard. Art is made to be seen. So why criticize them at all? Why segregate both them and those people who either like or dislike it into private wars. Why speak for everyone about the "best" and the "worst" when people are the worst? Still anyway, I finally started watching the rest of his next video. It frustrated me to see him poke fun at something I saw as a kid. I saw the recommended sidebar, seeing him attack all my favorite cartoons growing up or children's movies. Really. However, I found something interesting about him. He was very entertaining. He had an angry charm. I couldn't help but stifle some laughs into coughs as the video went on. I clicked on more and more. I went to Keep Tube and downloaded as many of those videos I could find. I watched him on my home PC (which had no internet connection AT ALL) and stuck in my USB stick. I believe it had about 28 GB, even though the label is 32. I know how it goes. 8 GB flash drive is really 7 GB. 4 GB flash drive is really 3 GB. False advertising by this much, maybe someone in the comment section is more tech savvy to answer why data is limited. When I downloaded his videos, I put them all in 3GP video file, the smallest I could find so as to have hundreds of videos all there at my fingertips. I spent all summer watching his YouTube series offline in my bedroom, and I found it funny to see promotional videos and Indiegogo campaigns that are both dated and desperate. I didn't care. I still enjoyed all his content, even though due to the very pixelated format, I couldn't read a single word when displayed or any detail properly. Basically, anything small was a blur. After Thanksgiving I put off my plans for suicide. I felt that I could wait until after the holiday season when I could feel good about people one last time. I did really want to die sometime before Valentine's day due to every crush I had breaking each piece of my heart. The worst part is, they never know they did this to me, and I know they are nice in person. That makes it harder. After finishing ALL his videos, each 20-40 minutes in length, I had a very knowledgeable criteria for criticism in the first place. However, I still felt the pangs that it wasn't right to call a movie bad, even if it was. It was good enough for Tyler. The year 2014 passed the baton fast and 2015 came our way. By early February, I had a plan. I called in a "package" to my dorm in Santa Rosa. It would be around noon. Inside, I was promised, would be my ticket out of here. I had to be careful, especially since I knew security would be tight on the place. After all, Isla Vista just had that shooting last May with our dear friend Elliot Roger getting his old "retribution". I got stiffed by gorgeous Californian women all the time, but I never blame them, I blame myself... For asking them, for following them, and for hoping for them. Those were my actions and I have to be punished on my own terms. Instead of a finger wag or allowing them to call me a "creeper" I owe it to these women that I die, so there is one less stalker wishing self-aggrandizing fantasies of anything other than rejection (Or at least one less LMN post with all the "victim blaming"). You can say I can control myself or move on, but the easy way out of any room is the emergency exit and you can ignore the alarm. Besides, I get tired of seeing them whisper to each other when I catch myself staring at them or simply after talking too long with them. I know they are talking about me. What else could they talk about? Maybe they can talk about how much I needed that package. The package arrived on time. February 7th, 12:00 at noon. I hoped it would go off, and by this point I didn't care who I took with me for the free ride home. Back to my heavenly home where Tyler waits. As I picked it up, it was very disappointing to find it empty. It may not have even been mine. I walked with it without thinking. I took off my backpack earlier so I left the package near the dining hall floor and I knew campus police were immediately alerted to the "suspicious package" and even my fucking backpack. At the next second, someone just grabbed me by the hand and I remember running blindly away. By the time anyone gathered there, I found myself "evacuated" to another dorm building. Realizing that freeing my bonds on campus, or anywhere near it for that matter, was too risky I had a new plan. I knew of a neighborhood I hadn't been to in years. This would decrease the risk of taking people with me, so I apologize in advance if any of you wished for that free ride home to see family, friends, and pets long gone waiting to welcome you home... This is not our home. Out. I have to get out. I wasn't supposed to arrive here. Here on this world. None of us were. We just pollute it. We just overrun it. We just hate each other and kill. Because we were never supposed to be here. Those quiet thoughts in the night sky, when you mentally wish you were further than the stars than you are right there, behind the eyes that look up at those stars, beyond that suffering body in your mess of a world. Out I say... we have to leave. Tyler already left. I bet someone will comfort me, sending me condolences about his departure. Saying he is in a better place. Well, that settles it. Let's all go to that "better place. " No one has to be comforted there, and it seems to be a place where no one ever has to say goodbye. We need more hellos. I have to be with Tyler. He must miss me as much as I miss him. I'm coming Tyler, don't worry. I'll get out. I'll say hello. One day, you all will meet Tyler too, don't worry he's a nice guy. He's my brother and I love him. You will get to meet him very soon. Whether you want it or not. Death comes to release you. Anyone who survived violence or abuse in every way can easily tell you that life can be so much harder than death. What about children? Suffer little children, and forbid them not, to come unto me: for of such is the kingdom of heaven. Wow, our home is a kingdom! I will almost feel better about myself after I die... I get tired so I get in the car. It was a long trip. After a while I just started rolling the windows down and felt the breeze cool my face while looking across the spinning valley out my window like it's my favorite show... Until I finally arrive. My old house... you want to talk about nostalgia? There, there in that room I played Super Nintendo all day. Earthbound and Mario Kart, mostly. I looked around at the place. The old creaky wooden floorboard, how I've missed you! My old bedroom. Without the large stuffed T-Rex in the middle of my room, the glowing planets and stars strung on the ceiling, and the large bin of Happy Meal toys littered around the place it all really felt empty, and noticing where these things used to be only served to frustrate me more that the past was better than it probably actually was. If we can't escape this life by death, we mentally escape this present to the past. It explains why the 80s is the defining thing about the 2010s. All we want are the franchises back, the music back, Russian relations back, and all the progress of 30+ years cut back. Walking around the house from the outside I would peek in now in then from the windows. That's funny. They converted my old house into a duplex. I asked the new manager and he told me the other tenant doesn't like to be bothered when he's at home, "but it really don't matter none, " he said, "since he most never comes over anyway. " So I go back to the darkest online corner and I find it. Pipe bombs. "These devices are essentially pipe bombs rigged to explode upon opening. " I look up schematics, blueprints, and any other warnings that are actually still with the product while still trying to sell it. I posed as a frustrated construction worker and said that a building scheduled for demolition wasn't zoned properly but it's my ass if it doesn't go down in time. So I have to use drastic measures. With that I easily found an agreeable seller. I sent them a PM before they responded hours later. They agreed that the package would arrive on my location. The scary thing about TOR network with no firewall or VPN is that the NSA and CIA can easily find me out as I waited for a reply to something that might actually be a security issue involving this weapon. They can drag my ass to jail and call in the bomb squad. Eventually they told me it was on it's way and told me this works but I need to find a way to connect it upon triggering. The wires, you see, aren't touching. If they do, then BOOM! It wasn't going to come that same day, so I spend a few hours browsing all the TOR websites you will NEVER see on Google. Another reason to kill myself. Didn't I tell you I am a creep? It's just the way I am? A damaged product? It came! Oh the joy when it came! I am so happy... I set the bomb behind the wall to the entrance. Let me tell you about the door. At the center of the duplex, right in the middle was a lobby of some sorts. This was added as a part of renovations that took place years after my family moved out. Apparently my brother's room is in the other side of the house and was made into the living room of the 2nd house in the duplex. So all I have to do is open the door that leads into my side of the duplex. Simple. The door itself has a problem opening though. It gets stuck. So if I am unlucky I can find my suicide delayed as I play with the knob of the door for a long, long time. For hours I tried opening and closing the door before the package arrived to test it out to see if there really are problems with the door. Eventually I decided to go out for a while, believing that if I just leave the door open the trigger wouldn't go off unless someone were to first close, then open the door. I was prepared to return back to a world with the nothing I was given in this one. Out the door I go. I left the door open on my way out. I got into my yellow Sedan and I drove down the empty highway until I arrived at civilization. I made it to the store to get some last things taken care of, close my bank account, and pay the very last of my bills. Death costs money. Hours went by and I almost forget all about my plans. I see a panel that was once set up now being taken apart as a man struggled to take the table and pick it up. I guess there was a convention at this local mall, I just realized this was the last public place I've ever been to since Santa Barbara. I do something out of character, or at least I think something. I want to go to heaven, and I am normally a selfish guy but I decide that the action is louder than the selfish thought of points. I know that regardless of my own mindset I know what it is I am supposed to do. The man almost drops the large table before I find myself at the other end, holding it up. The man doesn't say a word as he looks at me once before taking it into his truck. I see a woman setting up chairs in the open auditorium. She didn't even have a chance to ask who I was before I started setting up chairs in rows with the other few people helping out. For some reason, during the spontaneity of my charitable actions, I felt better about myself. I almost, and I was this close, to calling off ending my own life. Until at last I arrive.... that's strange.... Ashes. My childhood house... my duplex.... gone. There was a distance smell of popcorn so much that it felt like it burned into my teeth. I saw smoke and in the mist I saw objects in black that I could not make out but smelled terrible. The only person who could have set off the bomb was the manager. So you can image my shock when I saw the man running at me at full speed immediately after pulling his car up as the fire department put out the nonexistent flames in the area. "You're alive! " Words I was not happy in the least to hear. However, there was curiosity on WHO it was that literally bit the dust. The manager told me the unthinkable happened, the other tenant came inside while I was gone. He closed the door on his way in and stayed for less than an hour before going out again and as soon as his hand must have twisted the door on the way out... I never had a chance, so I took the time to ask him who it was that was the tenant for the duplex on my other side. He said he was just there for the weekend convention and that he is on YouTube. Funny how I saw his lastest review was on Tyler's favorite movie. When I saw the thumnail for that movie.... the movie that made Tyler happy. The movie still made me happy. I decided NOT to watch this one after all. Maybe this critic deserved what happened to him. I'm pretty sure it wasn't him because the critic I mentioned earlier still posts they may be prerecorded. He even uploads them now, but maybe someone else is in charge of that. Also he had a falling out with viewers a while back this year. Something about how he ignored the internal problems with his channel for years. I looked it up. All these videos about it made people feel like the critic's critic. It gave them something to talk about. To get upset about. To exploit and vent their feelings, saying they will never drop the issue.... until of course another issue and another make it so they forget about it so you don't have to. You think I am the only product? Every review, react video, or even all the" lets plays" ever to grace the internet is all sold on hearsay, opinions, and even the occasional rant. They want you fired up. They want you fed up. A movie or video game has to suck, really hard. Or be really good. They have to be right. They have to be loud. We all must be cynics. You have to subscribe... What it is is that we make it too easy to be too unhappy. I know I'm not the only one who feels like a product. Hell, I bet throughout this whole story you are fucking pissed that I keep bringing it up that I am a product and that I want to kill myself. Well, maybe it is because of one simple fact. I am my own best critic. Unlike you, any troll, or hater out there I have literally been trapped inside my own body, watching things behind my eyes as though that were the only TV and I can never change the channel. I know my faults, thoughts, fetishes, sick fantasies, fears, memories, and me. I talk to myself saying things like "I have no future, I have no future. " Like a mantra. I want it to end. I want to die because I am also tired of wanting to die. We criticize everything. WE like to criticize others. But when it comes to ourselves we are honest and hateful. No one ever truly likes themselves. We know ourselves too well, it's why we become critics. In this world of critics and products I ask you is the product important because a critic says it so or is the critic important because they designate it so. The answer is neither ever will matter, but seem to work off each other trying to make themselves matter. Ever wonder why depression is the most viral thing online? We are our own worst critics. So it comes to no surprise to any of you that I have now been attending special therapy sessions and am now at the moment currently still on suicide watch. My group consists of people who are outwardly optimistic and friendly, but inside I know they are suffering the same way homosexuals would at a Christian gay camp. We think a certain way deemed harmful, and are directed by people who do not understand us. So as you expect everyone excitedly says how they've been making "great progress" each time we have to share. I'm actually more honest with everyone and tell them straight that because of previous attempts law enforcement wants me to attend. I'm lucky how that was what the judge sentenced and how the death of a man I did not know but always watched seemed to go unnoticed. Nobody understands why I keep staring out at the open door every group meeting. One time the group leader, fed up with me bumming out a group already struggling with depression, told me that at any time I wanted to take my own life I should just walk out the front door........ I've been staring at that friendly door for the longest time. Wondering why the door was shut to me I set up to take me home. Home to Tyler. Home away from this crummy life. Home to where I will like myself. Where I won't be seen as some product. Take away the toys, the commercials, the movies, every label. Make an extreme YouTube strike not on channels, but on our lives, and you will find we are empty shells filled with shit we grew to love or grew to hate its smell. Without that franchise shit.... it seems we are nothing. Tyler is nothing to all of you right now. He only matters because I tell the story. There was no way your brain needs him like mine. We are all unique. We are all critics and products. I don't like how we don't get along. I don't like how we fight. I don't like the thought of staying in this world with all of you. I don't like being alive. I don't like being some stupid product. I don't like criticizing myself for being one. I want to be with Tyler because he liked himself. That's what I liked most about him. Doors let people out. Out of the room. Out of the conversation. Outside where freedom waits. Outside where no one hates. Not even yourself. Doors are a wonderful thing. An escape. A gift. A wonder. I love them. I know doors because I used them all my life to shut out my parents. The shut out my teachers. To shut out the world. Nothing makes me happier than a door. When I say "happy" I think you know what I mean... so Out the door I go. Because someone left the door open just for me. So I can think of new ways to end this old life. I hate myself more than ever before. I got counseling. I got professional help. What you never understand at all is how I think, what I feel. I feel like all three things: The Product, The Critic, and The Door.

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1. https://edu.apps01.yorku.ca/alumni/groups/part-1-free-blind-eyes-opened/
2. edu.apps01.yorku.ca/alumni/groups/1280p-free-full-blind-eyes-opened
3. josealexander29.blogia.com/2020/030106-full-movie-download-torrent-blind-eyes-opened.php
4. https://xavimysterio.blogia.com/2020/030202--10075-1280p-10076-movie-watch-blind-eyes-opened.php
5. https://form.run/@p-b-blind-eyes-opened-download-full
6. edu.apps01.yorku.ca/alumni/groups/kickass-movie-online-blind-eyes-opened
7. https://form.run/@no-sign-up-blind-eyes-opened-movie-watch
8. https://kennahoni.therestaurant.jp/posts/7842478
9. https://ameblo.jp/kisujimewo/entry-12579062122.html
10. edu.apps01.yorku.ca/alumni/groups/full-length-watch-full-length-blind-eyes-opened

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