Everybody has a book inside them, a story to tell

>Everybody has a book inside them, a story to tell.

I mean it's not incorrect, it's just that most people's """stories""" are inane drivel.

I was kidnapped as a child and now I have crippling emotional problems.
Now I'm set.

Yeah mine is actually Ulysses

And writer's tell them.

I was literally fed Bible pages as punishment by my pastor, so it's true in my case.

This is just false. Everybody leads a vapid, unnoteworthy life. Some just pretend better than others.

>Do you know why I believe in the novel? It’s a democratic shout. Anybody can write a great novel, one great novel, almost any amateur off the street. I believe this, George. Some nameless drudge, some desperado with barely a nurtured dream can sit down and find his voice and luck out and do it. Something so angelic it makes your jaw hang open. The spray of talent, the spray of ideas. One thing unlike another, one voice unlike the next. Ambiguities, contradictions, whispers, hints. And this is what you want to destroy.

no one said the stories were good

"And that's where it should stay in most cases"

- Christopher Hitchens

>grandma wants you to read her memoir about "what life was like before the internet"

>grandpa was a very well-learned man
>wrote a book on his thoughts and philosophies
>he wouldn't let anyone read it except me

>mfw it was a word-for-word rip-off of the Man Without Qualities

I shoved a book up my ass once

I'd mark this as the carrots-tier meme of 2018.

the OP quote clearly assumes the stories are worth telling.

So your pastors don't respect even their holy book no wonder your people disrespect others books and beliefs

no, that's your assumption. a story is a story is a story.

OP here
no, it doesn't

says who? yout HURR HURRing fat faggot ass?

OP you didnt invent the quote. you dont know shit about its intentions.

...

And once they're opened, they're red

why doesn't your gif move homo

what are you talking about? it moves

I'm about to move my hand upside your head if you lie like that again

I think your computer is broken bro

I don't know what to tell you dude, but it's moving.

My father was a mafia boss/businessman, but was betrayed, ambushed and shot in the back of the head, and then put inside a barrel of acid. Then the same men tried to kill my mother, so we had to flee our eastern European shithole for America.
I am still affected by this incident.

every time I am made to look at a word with apostrophe-S at the end where the writer clearly just intended to write the word in plural, god forgives me for one of my murders.

No one said they were any good.
You’re a breathing masterpiece, user.

>and that's the end of that chapter

>Chapter 1
>"The bigger they are..."

people are a lot more interesting than you give them credit for. the issue is that they've been conditioned to not share the parts that are interesting, only project the parts that are safe, polite, and trendy.

I have several stories.
All involving sex with hot chicks.
All fictional.

My life is too boring to write about.
Although i did see an asian woman try to put a chicken nugget into her vagina one time, so thats something

>Be me
>Work as a janitor for years while studying ancient philosophy on the side
>Master the janitorial arts. Learn thousands of little shortcuts and tricks.
>Dream of passing these on to some other that my legacy might mean something.
>Quit. Prevented for training my successor.
>My collected wisdom purified through time withers and dies.

I had a book in me, and it was not allowed to live.

this but not really this. the interesting parts just arent appropriate to go into the first few times you meet someone

I used to work with an old man who's face was always blotched by exfoliated skin. He was only tasked with checking the tickets of attendees because he had some sort of mental handicap. He revealed that he was only in his 40s one day since it was his birthday. He looked much older than he appeared. Coworkers told me that he'd been an English professor at a college nearby and he still had an obsession with Shakespeare. It was sad seeing him like that even though I never knew him before it must have been an accident or sickness of some kind. I wonder what.

What do you do now?

Mind killing tech support.
I miss the cleaning work. At least then I was alone with my thoughts.

you still have a book in you user, i would read it

everyone has the raw material, but that doesn't mean jack shit. i have fingers, too, but I'm not a master concert pianist.

At least you got to read the man without qualities again.

mine would mostly be screams

>literally
Too bad it didnt work, you've got the devil in ya, boy

When i was 7y some fucking gypsies tried to kidnap me in a mall. Thanks to God for the guard who stopped them from taking me out.
I know your feels~

When my mother and father divorced, they were living in the usa. My mother thought she would never get custody over me and my brother because she was german, and my father was american. So, late at night, she packed us up and left. I was four. I still remember that night. I was excited because I got to stay up so late, and I thought that the streetlights reflecting off of the water drops on the windows was very pretty.

The whole fucking debacle lasted years, which involved fleeing in the night and my father selling his company and all kinds of shit, but resulted in, the single most traumatizing experience.

I was probably 5 or so, and my dad walked in and argued with my mother, like he usually did, I don't remember what they said, but then, he grabbed me and threw me over his shoulder and started to walk out. My mom stood there in the hall, sobbing. I screamed and cried but I knew that no matter what I did, I couldn't do anything. I still remember it so fucking vividly. The helplessness, the despair. the sheer desperation. Even then I knew I would never see my mother again- (that wasn't true, but for years, until I was fifteen I only saw her for a week every year), and the sheer emotional pain fucking hurts, still. Neither my mother nor my father know that I remember this.

Even today, if I see a kid screaming, you know, everyone acts annoyed, but I remember what it feels like, to be utterly helpless. Nobody listens to kids. Kids are stupid, and whatever, but we remember and adults kill us a little bit at a time and then blame us when we end up as neurotic fucking wrecks.

nice

>friend grew up in tiny shithole outside of a small town outside of a large town
>his great granddad grew up and lived in an even smaller shithole that's now completely uninhabited
>great granddad thought it'd be sad if everything that happened where he grew up would be lost so he wrote four books about it
>put them in the local library in the slightly bigger shithole for everyone to read

What a life

You should get a copy user, I wish my great grandfather had written down his childhood memories, instead of mumbling them to me while occasionally lapsing into Dutch.

Doubt I'll ever go there

I hope you didn't lie because that made me jealous as fuck.
>tfw illiterate father