Write what's on your mind

Going to bed in a minute. Need to study in the morning. Mentally exhausted.

Niggers.

Small kremlin, why do people talk in their sleep. Niggers.

That song is good. I'm so glad she replied . Why did they have to drop agent orange?

>you should care about philosophy but not politics, religion, or economics

You have clearly never read ANY significant philosophy

Yawn

Grow up

aha youre a faggot dude

>t. chocolate man

Explain yourselves

>I'll never be able to write well because I am too scared of people reacting negatively to my work.
>>I'm too afraid of people telling me I'm retarded and my writing is shit
>I always get people insulting my writing when I decide to share it and I'm a huge fucking pussy about it.

Hey, retard. I can tell you right now your writing is terrible without even reading it. Unless you're one of the prodigies of old, your first work will be utter shit. Accept it, and all the criticism that comes with it. It's the only way to improve.

If you want some comforting words. An interesting story will always be interesting, no matter how shitty the writing.

Respect my mind, cause I'll kill you nigga bitch I'll kill you nigga

Soon that bitch at the pharmacy is going to have to go. The way she says, “Next! Come on! Come on!” makes me want to get up, look her dead in the eye and fucking wrap my hands around her neck and squeeze and squeeze and squeeze.... right up until her windpipe is about to snap in half. Then I'll let go and let her gasp for air just for my amusement. When that wares itself out I'll finish her off with a 360 twist of her old cunty neck. The fluttering sensation I'll feel go down my spine once I see her eyes roll in the back of her head, whilst froffying white foam bubbles up in the corner of her mouth. If I'm lucky enough the whole thing might make me hard. What? What the fuck are you looking at? Oh I guess this is my fault? It always is, right? I'm sick right? Well I guess you better treat me. Perhaps it’s better if I just do it and get it over with. Probably have to blame it on the pills again when they throw my ass in prison. Fucking shit. Why am I at the god damn pharmacy all the fucking time? Maybe if my doctor didn’t give me 40 antidepressants I wouldn’t have to be here so often and contemplate strangling the shit at out of that cunt. I do my fucking part. I go out. I try to be social. None of it fucking works. Why should I have to control my inner impulses? I’ve done all I’ve could. Why don’t they do their fucking job? Give me something that works. Don’t just give me bullshit platitudes for me to complete and pump me full of god damn magic pills when your “advice” doesn’t work. Fuck it, I’ll probably just do my evening walks til she starts running then call it a night.

>I POSTED IT AGAIN

After four years of trying to get into med school its time to stop. Ive lived for too long trying to live for others

Time to find any kind of job, cherish my mother and sister and give my dog a wash.

>Through a Glass, Darkly
Through the travail of the ages, Midst the pomp and toil of war,
I have fought and strove and perished Countless times upon this star.

In the form of many people In all panoplies of time
Have I seen the luring vision Of the Victory Maid, sublime.

I have battled for fresh mammoth, I have warred for pastures new,
I have listed to the whispers When the race trek instinct grew.

I have known the call to battle In each changeless changing shape
From the high souled voice of conscience To the beastly lust for rape.

I have sinned and I have suffered, Played the hero and the knave;
Fought for belly, shame, or country, And for each have found a grave.

I cannot name my battles For the visions are not clear,
Yet, I see the twisted faces And I feel the rending spear.

Perhaps I stabbed our Savior In His sacred helpless side.
Yet, I've called His name in blessing When after times I died.

In the dimness of the shadows Where we hairy heathens warred,
I can taste in thought the lifeblood; We used teeth before the sword.

While in later clearer vision I can sense the coppery sweat,
Feel the pikes grow wet and slippery When our Phalanx, Cyrus met.

Hear the rattle of the harness Where the Persian darts bounced clear,
See their chariots wheel in panic From the Hoplite's leveled spear.

See the goal grow monthly longer, Reaching for the walls of Tyre.
Hear the crash of tons of granite, Smell the quenchless eastern fire.

Still more clearly as a Roman, Can I see the Legion close,
As our third rank moved in forward And the short sword found our foes.

Once again I feel the anguish Of that blistering treeless plain
When the Parthian showered death bolts, And our discipline was in vain.

I remember all the suffering Of those arrows in my neck.
Yet, I stabbed a grinning savage As I died upon my back.

Once again I smell the heat sparks When my Flemish plate gave way
And the lance ripped through my entrails As on Crecy's field I lay.

In the windless, blinding stillness Of the glittering tropic sea
I can see the bubbles rising Where we set the captives free.

Midst the spume of half a tempest I have heard the bulwarks go
When the crashing, point blank round shot Sent destruction to our foe.

I have fought with gun and cutlass On the red and slippery deck
With all Hell aflame within me And a rope around my neck.

And still later as a General Have I galloped with Murat
When we laughed at death and numbers Trusting in the Emperor's Star.

Till at last our star faded, And we shouted to our doom
Where the sunken road of Ohein Closed us in its quivering gloom...

So as through a glass, and darkly The age long strife I see
Where I fought in many guises, Many names, but always me.

And I see not in my blindness What the objects were I wrought,
But as God rules o'er our bickerings It was through His will I fought.

So forever in the future, Shall I battle as of yore,
Dying to be born a fighter, But to die again, once more.
-George S. Patton

tbqh, this actually helped a lot. Thanks.

If I practice my craft x2 as much as I currently am, will I get better than when I practice my craft with precision?

I wonder if the USA is going to collapse in my lifetime. I'm pretty young so I don't have a lot of context to really appreciate whether what's happening now is actually extreme and signalling the end of the US as it's been or if that's just alarmism that has been a constant worry for conservatives. I feel like if there's not a big war or something to bring the country together soon there will be an unbreakable divide that will occur and the country will collapse. But then again that's probably just paranoia.

I've come to dislike the written word. Maybe it's a result of my mental state, but it seems to carry no gravity, no feeling, and little connection to the world around us. A good speaker, though, is different. They make you feel something. They're real, and they care. To an extent, what I'm feeling must be normal. You can't spend all day reading about video games or literature without getting totally bored of them. Being a NEET isn't all that fun.

I am a pathetic pseud with neither an interest nor a talent for philosophy. The illusion of forging a (fake) identity of an intellectual has been the last bastion of my mental sanity for a long time since there have never been any other even vague interests upon which I could have attempted to base my personality. I cannot sing, I cannot play an instrument, I am laughably bad at any sport. And I am not an exceptionally intelligent individual either. So what the fuck am I? A failure that has wasted his youth on video games without a single discernible talent or genuine interest; the peak of my idiocy being the fact that I KNOW that if I had a girlfriend none of these issues would even remotely bother me. That is the ultimate proof of my subhumanity. I am done.

Veeky Forums is a piece of shit
I came for discussion,
Found nothing but pseudo percussion
So now I'm off to /k/,
where at least they aren't all gay

>they aren't all gay
source?

user, it's never too late to start picking up an interest. If you find something you like, you invest your time in it, you won't need talent. And who cares if you're not the best? All that matters is that you're good enough for you.
I want you to go, find something you like (reading, music, writing, painting, whatever) and I want you to start practicing it today. And keep practicing it for about 20 mins each day, maybe more. Then take a look at yourself a year from now. Faggot.

thank god I live in California a state which would probably benefit and thrive from a collapse due to our beastly local economy

really the only people who will suffer from a collapse are the backwoods conservatives who live in the broke as fuck midwest states which take 2 bucks for every quarter they pay in taxes.

fuck em.

>someone unironically believes this
those backwoods mid westerners would be the only ones to survive, you moron. California would be devastated in a economic collapse.

youtube.com/watch?v=oou9kMR6ZrQ

Nice numeros
When I say collapse of the US I more mean the collapse of the sociocultural order that has held since the beginning of our nation. People genuinely seem not to believe in America or American values anymore; a large portion of the country, especially younger people, seem to want to be propped up and managed by the government. Fudamental values like personal freedom, property rights, and limited government are going out the window. People want to live in a European style socialist democracy, not America.

I was a shitposting neet and now I do nightshifts picking shit from a conveyor belt at amazon warehouse, with some niggers and filipinos

praise jesus

Honestly? Right now I'm writing erotic fairy-on-woodsman action as a present for my girlfriend

Fuck me, wrong thread

...

Write my IP fucking down you stupid CIA nigger, I DONT GIVE A FUCK.

YOU WANT TO MONITOR ME YOU FILTHY KIKE. YOU THINK I MIGHT BE A DANGER FOR SOCIETY? I WILL PROVE YOU RIGHT SHLOMO! I
WONT STOP TILL I REACH THE POINT OF GNOSIS AND BATTLE THE ARCHONS IN THIS SPIRITUAL BATTLE FOR THE MIND. I KNOW YOUR TRICKS YOU DIRTY MONEY SNIFFING, RITUALISTIC, SPIRITUAL DEGENERATE. I'M CREATING PSYCHIC WALLS TO PROTECT ME FROM THE ATTACKS ON THE DIFFERENT PLANES OF EXISTENCE. I WILL LIFT MYSELF UP THROUGH THE HIGHER DIMENSIONS AND BATTLE THE THAUGHT FORMS WITH SPEECH AND ARTISTIC EXPRESSION. YOU WILL NOT KEEP ME TRAPPED IN THIS MATRIX FOREVER. I AM MAN. MY SOUL IS IMMORTAL. I AM I. AWARE. SEEING. BEING.

I don't really want a gf, too much trouble.

my parents are in their 40s and together they probably have another 20 years at most. honestly I need them for longer.

I'm going to be doing some assistant teaching at a university here soon and want to design a course on vietnam war lit. is this too specific i.e. should I broaden it out to general war lit or can I keep it narrow?

Ideally my goal with this course would be to show how our perceptions of war via a medium like lit has shaped our collective memory and another goal is that vietnam and more broadly, the 60s, is sort of the key to understanding our current model of life

Some video games are worth caring about.

niggers tongue my anus

I realised today that I appreciate the atmosphere of despair that McDonalds has. Few other places contain such a saturation of people who look miserable. Even the couples, such a blemish in most places, look down. Like the food itself, it is monotonous, dull, and homely.

ordered a mcdouble

>things worth caring about
>Doesn't include physical fitness

For me, it's the McChicken. The best fast food sandwich. I even ask for extra McChicken sauce packets and the staff is so friendly and more than willing to oblige.

One time I asked for McChicken sauce packets and they gave me three. I said, "Wow, three for free!" and the nice friendly McDonald's worker laughed and said, "I'm going to call you 3-for-free!".

Now the staff greets me with "hey it's 3-for-free!" and ALWAYS give me three packets. It's such a fun and cool atmosphere at my local McDonald's restaurant, I go there at least 3 times a week for lunch and a large iced coffee with milk instead of cream, 1-2 times for breakfast on the weekend, and maybe once for dinner when I'm in a rush but want a great meal that is affordable, fast, and can match my daily nutritional needs.

I even dip my fries in McChicken sauce, it's delicious! What a great restaurant.

No, you're just misinterpreting what he's saying. Any kernel of sense in politics, religion, or economics will be of a philosophical nature, i.e. it will relate to the practice of pure or empirical conception.

>pure or empirical conception

Well, then, I'll call it "the theory of the practice of conception." Is that more palatable?