Write What's on Your Mind

I really wonder if all my sorrows are due to being a virgin...too bad I'll never find out, probably.

the second one is more believable. But for someone who would claim 'instinct':

Inside the animals mind is there language, a voice, or a visual tutorial of a running river being lapped by a tongue? What is the meaning of this word instinct?

is it the cells, chant a chorus "we need that fundamental pure smooth shit my negi"
is there something about water: an animal comes across a puddle or pond and the water itself says as designed by God "look around, I am like nothing else, I am pure and simple and smooth, put me inside of you" telepathically into the animals head?

That tiny writing in the pic says very little of anything meaningful. I would never put this on my facebook. Otherwise the template is good.

Anons, we can fix this meme.

idk man
i felt the anger and complete despair at being able to do nothing in it

are you still in college or something? lmao

You're better off keeping your purity; sex is unsatisfying if not with someone you love. I haven't fell in love with a girl in years.

Luckily, i found God. Now i scoff at any form of sense gratiffication

>has facebook

never gonna make it

i stared at this on shrooms once

kind of horrifying/calming

Lmao don't fool yourself asshole, you're probably just a leftist anyway.

Literally it's required for my job. Not that I'm ashamed of having one. There are people I like to stay in contact with.

not a leftist by any means lmao

why are you so angry? people are gonna want to read my >muh internet is making me so lonely than yours?

i wanted to be an astronaut and go to the moon and there's a girl and she's like the moon but it's too late for me to ever be an astronaut

Thinking about Veeky Forums, and you, yes you, user.

"Your hands remain gelid, damp, as you immersed them in your ill-scented shorts for another round of carnal self-punishment; filthy animal, lighted blue by a monitor, chained to the chair in some self-defeating manner—no effort from you, ever? That much is obvious.
Flake off another indignation from those memories of high school. You've let them hold a lease in their for a while now, these sordid squatters come in moments of, strange enough, pride, and put you back in your place. Head on to /gif/ to release that tension, then to /pol/ to keep up. /x/'ll humour your thin hopes for something unseen just beyond the mundane calibrations of those mistreated eyes.
How has it that these images sapped so much of your time? You learn very little from the people here. Someway it needs to come out though... Oh how they play on you so much, deny you their love, their companionship, the careless laughs that emerge to those liked enough to deserve them; all a game now, it seems, and you've really hardened your heart with that cynicism you so desperately need to keep these images from hurting you. It's never been harder than it is now.
You're a catalogue now of the ways humanity wrongs each other; a catalogue of all our innate imperfections, the ego's eternal plight, the lonely child wanting to be coddled by all willing arms, and you roll your eyes and scoff your empty scoff at those just as confused.
The book, when laid up, askewed, is such a fancy phallic symbol. "

All YA is commissioned by The Dark Government as an evil plot to keep the masses dumb

>You're better off keeping your purity
a vagina up and down on a cock until it spurts isnt some 'loss of purity'

Mental purity.

I just keep smoking and smoking and smoking. I think a lot about how I never wanted to be like my alcoholic dad and here I am. Indulging in excess on a chemical that I know will hurt my already feeble mind. I barely can keep focus on anything anymore.

I am nothing but a leech and pretender who can not even hold down a regular 9-5 job. I did not pay attention in school. I focus all my cards on love and it is clear I won't be able to do anything worthwhile in my life. I think about Stoner from time to time.

I have no talents. I wasted the time I had to develop them running away into virtual realms. All I have is empathy, love. respect, admiration, and time.

So here I am. Off the map finally. I finally got away to learn I never could have left. Now I'm stuck in limbo and I don't know what to do. I wish I knew proper grammar. I wish I had a bigger vocabulary. I want to help others but I barely function. I'm so sorry. I would do anything, take any form, to stop the pain in everyone's heart. I'm sorry I sit here thinking if I just keep typing and typing things will improve. Ha. Kaizen. What a joke.

I was barely cognizant before but I know the reality is nothing has changed. Now I just feel worse. Now I understand how long I have been dead for.

I love anons. From one big pretentious pseudo brainlet. Please don't hate yourself. Please take care of yourself. And if you can do me a favor. Shoot me.

in what way? In a once you pop you wont want the fun to stop? In a, once you try this drug you will be addicted and its all you will want and think about? Maybe, maybe, but it seems this person in question already is overwhelmed by the topic, and there is a good chance the person in question has jerked before

This fucking dumbass spend 10+ years in the woods looking for Bigfoot and doesn't have jack shit to show for it. After a decade of time wasted in the woods with nothing but audio of rustling bushes and videos of you riding around on your ridiculous little amphibious compensation mobile, you have to either be incredibly stupid or dick deep in denial to still, to this DAY be fucking about out there.

>Luckily, i found God. Now i scoff at any form of sense gratiffication

Hey dude, smoking is one of the easiest bad habits to quit. Nice painting, have one too.

Quit smoking, go get a job and start community college.
Speaking as an ex-alcoholic who used to feel almost exactly the same way, I can feel your words on a deeply personal level. The truth is that while we may never change the world, we can change ourselves, fighting yourself is at its core, the fundamental reason for living.

Don't despair at your addiction, rejoice at the mountain you have to climb.

> I did not pay attention in school.

Me either, I now have my bachelors in English.

>I have no talents.
Me either, but we both have time to improve. However little self-improvement you can manage needs to become your meaning, hell if your lack of self-improvement is bothering you this much it already is. Do what you can while you can.

“O my soul, do not aspire to immortal life, but exhaust the limits of the possible.”
>So here I am. Off the map finally. I finally got away to learn I never could have left. Now I'm stuck in limbo and I don't know what to do. I wish I knew proper grammar. I wish I had a bigger vocabulary. I want to help others but I barely function. I'm so sorry. I would do anything, take any form, to stop the pain in everyone's heart. I'm sorry I sit here thinking if I just keep typing and typing things will improve. Ha. Kaizen. What a joke.

If you're really willing to do anything, do as I said and stop fucking smoking, go get a job and start saving, go to college. Community college, while not exactly prestigious is much more than most people can brag and its eons more than you yourself can. The only things holding you back are the thought that you can't, and your choice to not.

Yea weed is a pretty easy thing to quit, and the bottom line is that you can either stop and improve or keep smoking and don't. Whatever you do, don't feel sorry for yourself and act as if that somehow makes your choices better.

Man, I've never seen a neckbeard Christian. Mostly because a sense of self-righteousness is antithetical to Christianity but hey that doesn't stop the Catholics.

As a human, you have no purity. Even lusting after a woman is on par with having sex with her in your heart. While virginity should be something to be cherished, there is the aspect of choice and I mean let's face it, im pretty sure your virginity is someone else's choice.

I'm not christian.

>a sense of self-righteousness is antithetical to Christianity
sbrofl

I've slept with several girls and am also married. All in all I consider myself pretty lucky. But I'm still resentful, both with my life and the world at large. I used to be naive, hopeful, motivated, and passionate about everything I studied and did. I used to be a dreamer but after I finally got what I (thought I) wanted I realized I've invested all my time into becoming just another wageslave cog in the system. Sure I have a degree from a pretty prestigious university, and some solid accomplishments under my belt, but I have no inner satisfaction, no sense of fulfillment, no sense of meaning from what I've done.

There are lots of people here who are social outcasts and resentful people, no doubt about it, but I'm convinced it's correlation, not causation. After all, it takes being depressed and disillusioned with society to see past all the vapid elements of our capitalist society, all the bread and circuses and consumerism that rid people of their ambitions and initiatives.

I don't mean to be an edgy LARPer but am I the only one who wishes I was born sometime in the past? I hate living in the end of history, and no I don't mean the democratic end of history but the capitalist end of history. Politics is theatre, our politicians are no longer bold visionaries, they are just managers. All their powers have been ceded to the financial institutions, the bureaucracy, and the elites whose special interests and lobbyists maintain stability at all costs. Nothing ever changes, our capitalist system just trudges along. I feel like we're living for nothing, all the traditional structures of society have been torn down and there's no point in being an intellectual or pursuing self-improvement. I wish I could've been born in an era where I had something to care and fight for.

Then again, I feel like all the sacrifices of great men, who actually fought for what they believed in, have been for null. So maybe it doesn't matter in the end.

I threw up a little reading this

Is a pipe really a pipe or is it just a representation of itself in the third dimension?

In the past two years I've managed to put away the majority of my self-destructive and insecure habits developed in my unstable and unnurturing teenage years, and I feel much more at ease with myself than I have at any point in my life despite having openly failed to begin any of the steps towards a 'successful' life.
I've dropped out of University I had no means of paying for after less than a year, have held a retail job with minimal bills allowing me to live comfortably and save a good bit of money up and am now looking to move out of the toxic household I grew up in and move on with my life while also continuing my education on my own accord, and likely through community college if and when I need a degree for financial reasons.

I'm just posting this because its refreshing to put those events into a context for me, it gives me some motivation to continue which I've sorely lacked the entirety of my adult life.

I feel like I am way too ambitious for my own good. Maybe I'm just insecure, I don't really know. Like, get a load of this. I had the idea of making a comic, but without art. Although that may not the best description of it, maybe something more apt would be like, prose dressed up as a comic. Silly right? Well I'm working on it, I swear to god you shits better not steal my idea. Ha, I guess that's another insecurity of mine as well, I hate the thought of someone stealing my ideas, scares the hell out of me. I'd probably hesistate to share my ideas in front of my own father in fear that he'd steal my ideas. Anyways, I don't know what I'm doing. I've never even finished a proper short story and I'm trying to do this silly, avant-garde-ish, format screw. Although I do quite like my story idea. To bash in the same theme over and over again, let me say another time that maybe I'm just flying too close to the sun. Ambitiousness is a gift and a curse. It doesn't help much that I pretty much give up on ideas when I hit a roadblock, although I'm really clinging on to dear life for this one. Really just, clinching my nails in deep here. Well, I don't know if this rant has really got me anywhere, but I'd like to here what yoy guys have to say. Thanks for reading.

That was nice user I hope to do the same
It's hard developing a drug habit at 15, I don't know of a time when I was sober, and that is certainly the first step to anything right now. Oddly enough there really aren't many books for this feel.

published my first book couple months ago, parents and wife were the only ones who bought a copy. depressing but not unexpected given my luck with creative works that i've done that never get noticed. hate having to use uber to make a living, but it reminds me of why i have to keep writing. i live in california and i cant get a job with my useless english degree otherwise. i have to keep writing. i'm so tired.

I don't even wanna know why anymore. My only clear objective and goal since it all started was not to do this. Not to do it again, yet here I am shutting everything out, keeping it all in. Wavering in uncertainty and indecisiveness.
I'll take these days as my chance to reflect on everything, to put new goals and to make plans.
The thing is, if anything goes wrong, if even the smallest detail doesn't go as I thought it'd go, I'll quiver again. I'll do it once again.
Should I think ahead every detail so as to not forget any possible outcome? Should I stop putting goals altogether? I need to stop doing this, that was my only clear objective and goal since it all started.
I'm sure this silence will be over in a couple of days (if it lasts more than a week from now I'll definitely drop it all).

just found out that i am going to have to have a massive arguement that i will probably lose and result in me being absolutely fucked for the next year or so

This inspired me. Don't stop writing my friend.

sorry to hear. but exactly what kind of planned argument is that severe?

Advent

Don't want to work in publishing or teach? The most beautiful thing a writer can pass on is a love of writing.

Also congrats! Want to send a link where we can buy?

As much as it can be annoying to read on here that any sincere question is invalid because the information that is needed can be gained from your own reading and thinking about books, I'm starting to agree with the sentiment. Telling people to practice thinking should be memed here, especially in regards to depressed anxious people who have as of yet to gain control of their emotions because they have yet to think about what bothers. This sentiment of knowing yourself is lost on most of these people because their self knowledge only comes to them by experience or emotion and most believe knowing themselves is just a rehash of these collected experiences and emotions. These are not you though, nor is your thoughts about who you are a complete description of yourself. Thinking for yourself and to know yourself requires attention not only to these aspects of how you know yourself, but also requires that you understand different methods of thinking. Epictetus' method of inquiry like most other ancient philosophers can be applied once it has been internalised, but it will not teach you about the harm of unconscious fears or why you remunerate on comparisons. The sentiment to think for yourself here is expressed wisely, yet it's second hand wisdom from those who likely know you will also need to remove yourself from this sphere to get what is really needed to live in contemporary society.

A world without alcohol.

My mother was always critical of my father,, critical of all, which I had always assumed was her flaw, as her words carved and wittled him down into a statuesque ruin. Now that my wrinkled frown resembles his sad smile, I feel I understand far less than I did in my younger days.

Man, I would do anything to be a better writer.

I've been at this for about 2 years now and I've only finished a handful of short stories. I actually posted one on a story sharing board and it met with some pretty decent success. That's it though. I have so many ideas I want to share, I want to inspire people, anyone, even a single person will be enough for me. The only problem is that I can't fucking sit down and write for more than 30 minutes. I have this stupid dream of finishing and publishing a book one day, maybe a novella, I don't care. Even if I have to self-publish. Even if it's trash As long as I can hold my work in my hands one day and look over at my bookshelf to see it up there.

Pretty sure I won't make it but I'm not going to stop.

How about a world without any mind-altering substances? Drugs dont exist, alcohol doesnt exist, mankind as a whole is always sober forever and theres nothing anyone can do to turn off their brain.

Imagine it

>new thread, last one bump limit
You don't have to state this every time, newfriend. These threads are regular.

A lot of self pity.
My only interests are the arts, a saturated market only the brave or foolish enter. I am neither, and I will most likely spend the rest of my life working shit jobs I hate and getting drunk every day to medicate.

A peculiar thing. It is unlike any company I have ever had in the real world. It sits with me on a piece of a slightly damp piece of mouldering wood. We have finally hunted down our prey, after an afternoon spent in the forest. It is in the shape of a man, but not human, wild, but noble. Under a simple and indistinct garment, its skin has a rough texture of natural durability and health, and it moves fluidly but toweringly. Some would be terrified, but I have dreamt this too many times. I know how it thinks: it does not dedicate it's body to the mind. There is a silence of focus infused into its ceaseless activity. Many a time it finds beautiful plants or rocks, or lush streams or clearings when stalking, and passes them by, having noticed but not paused. It appreciates without studying, as it's accepted me with the lack of suspicion of someone too aware at all times to fear treachery. I find my freedom in its eyes, and, when together, people avoid us one like the other.

youtube.com/watch?v=RPVYySjLQlc

humans are the ultimate limited referential ideal

I wonder if lit has a waifu

I like this a lot.

Yes, DFW

I feel very happy. I'm finally winning against my problems. My years of hard work are paying off.

I can't think. I can't fucking think anymore. I want to die. Fucking goddamnit let me die. Fuck you.

This morning was too comfortable, waking up under the stifling duvet with Sunday eyes and that pressure behind my brow, that dry mouth from the weed and the red wine, that smell of sleep still trying to drag my head down to roll around the pillow for a couple hours more. My morning world was this soft pillow-top luxury. I drag myself out of it. Some idiot had told me a few days prior that I ought to teach myself to crave my pain in the world, as if expertise in self-flagellation would be my one-stop-shop for sin absolution, but this morning the words stuck like a sore thumb in my side.

I drag myself out of it. In the kitchen, put the kettle on, the good clean filtered water to boil, a hot cup of green tea. The last morning luxury. In the bathroom, swipe the curtains off the tub, plug the drain, braid my hair back tight, slip my headphones on and sit in the empty bath. Cue Syro, cue the ice cold water. I hold the steaming mug, steam rising up my nose. The water doesn't hit flesh right away.

I don't want to scream this early. I'd wake the whole building. But fuck, this half inch of water lapping at my calves is showing me how weak I am. I clench my jaw, the beeps in my headphones thud on, I sip the tea which does nothing to warm my pinprick legs. The water rises and I make deals with my future self. Just let the water level come to that freckle on my thigh, or just until the end of this song, whichever comes earlier, and then I'll stop, turn the water off, call it quits. The ice hits the spongy space between my legs, curdling my insides. My toes are pale white, my thighs bright red and speckled.

I had such a vivid dream today. It wasn't a full dream, it was more like a moment in a bigger dream that I can't remember.
The back of my hands were stinging, they had wounds, they hurt as if they were sanded, the skin peeled off and grated.
Even if it isn't agonizing pain, I can still feel it.
Any user able or willing to interpret this dream?

Which version of the bible should I read? My mom has like 20 copies of NIV which I can borrow, but I've heard its only an alright translation. Should I grab a copy of the KJV?

Na, originally I was going to teach, but then I found out just how much of a beuarcratic nightmare it is. Couldn't get into publishing just due to a lack of notice when sending out my resume.

Here's the link to my book, the Ebook is $3. amazon.com/gp/aw/d/B077PC7PXX/ref=mp_s_a_1_2?ie=UTF8&qid=1515363461&sr=8-2&pi=AC_SX236_SY340_FMwebp_QL65&keywords=ravendale

I never feel like doing anything. I can’t write at the moment because all my motivation is gone. I don’t know how I can finish this last semester of undergrad when I just feel so empty. I’ve tried changing my diet and getting exercise, but that’s not helping. Vyvanse doesn’t help me. I don’t know what’s going to kill this horrible combination of avolition and anhedonia. All I want to do is sleep.

>late capitalistic era
It's getting later and later you filthy commies.

ohboyohboyohboy this here writing thing aint gonna end well. shoulda stayed in school like mama told me. shoulda learned them graphs and cells and atoms but here I go to the big town to the concrete the noise and the good looking people with the ironic glasses. here i go here i go just waiting to fail. gonna write some stories about tortured youths gonna write their self-reflective agonies in indicepherable gobledigook because I cant even externalize the draining feeling that follow my slow thoughts on its teensies toes. I hear it and I feel its breath and boy am I scared but the words I put down just never catch it, they dont get it because I dont get it. Kinda drowning in a river and yelling about how this is a river and about how this river has - oh boy it sure has - how it has strong currents but I dont have the faintest idea what those currents are. I just get carried along allthewhile bobbing up and down like flesh-coloured buoy - huff im drowning - puff im drowning and I cant say how and why I can just hope that they are drowning too, maybe some of 'em blind so they'll appreciate me telling them about the river. Yupyup thats the plan, my man. Gonna go out to the city and gonna tell them about that river and hope they give me money and food so I can keep own drowning for a bit more. See you there.

>hasn't read Land

you have to GO BACK

I posted on an older thread about discovering MDE/Sam Hyde and how afraid I was of going deeper down the rabbit hole and becoming an alt-right racist. I mean, I am such an ignorant that I have few options other than talking "redpill" reading material as the truth.
I still wanna talk about it, and I would like someone to point me to the MDE forum again, since I can't find it.

Taking*

/g/ here

What's a good place for me to publish literature I write? I'm too much of an autistic free tard to use any social media other than Minds and it's blogging feature has no tag for literature. all I'm left with after that is pastebin but that's for sharing code and I'm not sure if people actually go there looking for stuff to read. Do people even go on the internet looking for things to read anymore?

I'm asking because someone on a thread over on /g/ tried to convince me to start a technology blog and I think it might be good for me too upload my finished writings somewhere where it might be possible for them to be read. I sometimes feel like I'm wasting my time writing things that will never be read by anyone outside of my immediate family and a small circle of friends.

Not even sleep & dreams.

what's a good introduction or overview on the stoics?

i live in the corner of her eye, it's comfortable here, but it's a little cold

TLDR: le born in le wrong generatio

KJV has the most beautiful language and is generally the best, but may be somewhat less intelligible at times due to archaic words and words that have radically changed their meaning over time. I suggest you read KJV but keep a modern translation handy.

>Sure I have a degree from a pretty prestigious university, and some solid accomplishments under my belt, but I have no inner satisfaction, no sense of fulfillment, no sense of meaning from what I've done.
getting some items from one of those decently nice (even ikea) interior home decoration stores could do wonders, paintings, vases, modern furniture, some color here, some flair, some useable throw pillows (not like shit with weird sequin stitches that you cant even put your face on), and lotsss of candles. Also eat good food often. Be happy with the small things, and pursue some pleasing, culminating/building/'constructive/creative/rewarding hobbies in your free time, try to see if your wife might be into pegging

self improvement, nothing to fight for? Everything is about the individual, the world is your clam, and pearl, and oyster. The only thing worth living for is yourself. If that includes helping people so be it. If that includes helping yourself so be it.

In my mind I balance two future scenarios, suicide and great immediate suffering to my family or failure and gradual suffering to my family. I can't say which is better or worse.

Once a woman has been penetrated she's irrevocably changed. I don't know about the other user, but I've never masturbated before.

in 5 years you'll wonder why you were so stupid

lift weights + trade

I can get behind lifting, not sure what you mean by trade though. I used to be pretty athletic when I was younger but I've turned into a lazy piece of shit, skinnyfat due to horrible diet and lack of exercise

Trades, my boy
become a plumber, read on the side, write on the side

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it should be illegal for a convenience store to not sell weed

>*tips

not sure, just wanted to reply to you to let you know someone read your post.

i guess anywhere you could advertise it easily, maybe look for other technology blogs and see where they put things, good luck user

I'm much better at writing analyses of fiction than I am writing interesting fiction myself.
I'm honestly thinking about writing a work that consists of a collection of these analyses as well as summaries of what my fictional works would be if I was any good at writing them.

>t. high schooler who isn't creative

oh, kid, you've got some shit in store

Minds.com has a tag for technology in it's blogging feature. I'm talking about a place I can upload my literature. Looking around the site it seems some people like to post to hear God awful drivel as a blog post under no topic whatsoever and categorized with hashtags. In fact, making some random searches on Minds, I think I finally understand the purpose of hashtags.

Minds is definitely more for self-advocacy and reaching your fans then a place to upload your stuff for readers butt I don't think that kind of place exists on the internet anymore. The closest I can think of is Tumblr, but I'm not sure if I want to use that place for anything outside of porn.

The silence has ended. I have to think about how will I proceed now.
Something burned out inside me, a warm feeling turned cold. I guess it's good that it did, good for my own well being at least. Is it really good that it went cold or I'm saying this only to justify myself? I need a second opinion to settle that matter, but I won't get one so I'll put a pin in that for now.
I can't do the same she did to me, as she can make a completely natural justification and excuse. And it would be completely true. Her intentions, I can't know until I ask (and for that I have to wait). What she did to me? No, no. What I did to myself? Yes.
I'll try to be honest without showing everything then. I'll open the curtains. If it the situation resolves so I have to open a window, then so be it. Until we meet again.

I really enjoyed the prose in that OP speech.
Any books for this feel?

Why is it that I live an empty life yet I feel no sadness? I don’t live with purpose yet I feel like my life is okay. Also people think it’s weird that I don’t fear death

A third?
>neet
>never had a real job