Free journal thread. Tell me about your biggest fears, Veeky Forums. Just start writing...

Free journal thread. Tell me about your biggest fears, Veeky Forums. Just start writing, and stop when you feel you've said enough. Only minimal editing allowed.

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psychcentral.com/disorders/borderline-personality-disorder-symptoms/
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I think one of my biggest worries is not being exceptional. I come from a generation where essentially every child was told in school that they’re special—exceptional, even—and they can be whatever they want to be. Everybody’s a winner. The unquestionable falsity of this mentality becomes clear at a young age as you witness other children outperform you, only to be reassured that you’ve done a super job because you tried your best. Suddenly you start thinking that you’re not really much good at anything, and the whole world is bullshitting you. You’ve been living a lie, and you’re not actually much good at anything. You learn the word mediocrity, and you immediately associate it with yourself. Why try? You shouldn’t bother. You stop. There’s always some fucking kid who’s effortlessly better than you. Always one step ahead. Two steps. Four. Now you’re at a shit college with a shit life and a shit alcohol problem. The only thing you pride yourself on is your ability to correctly distinguish between your/you’re, and you sneer at all the fuckups who can’t get it right. At least you can write above a fifth grade level. You’re so much better than them. Maybe you are exceptional after all. Maybe you should write a novel. Maybe you should direct a film. You bask in your superiority with a constant internal smirk, deriding those around you for their failures. But really, you know it’s just an illusion. It’s a story you tell yourself so you can sleep at night (the pills help a bit too). You know you’re not really any better than anybody. You’re a fraud to the whole world, but mostly to yourself. You hope someday you just won’t wake up, because you’re too chicken shit to proactively off yourself and hurt all those caring people who told you you were exceptional, and still believe it. This only serves to increase your self-pity, and you wish you could try, because maybe trying could actually get you somewhere. But you can’t. You’re stuck; stuck wallowing in your crushing averageness, confined to menial hobbies like watching funny videos and posting on an imageboard all day.

I just want to get away from my family and live on my own so I can feel like i'm actually living a real life, feels like iv just been a weak little shit for the most part.

But its like either hunt around for these shitbird minwage jobs or stay in school to at least get some chance of not being a pauper, but then I'm getting sick of the school life.

Considering joining the Coast Guard or something, have Uncle Sam pay for my education and shit. Just need to get the fuck out of here. If I'm still here at 25 I will literally just walk the earth.

The novel is coming along fine.

I can relate, but I don't think I'd ever have the courage to walk the earth. I'll probably just confine myself to a shit minimum wage job and dream of creating something and becoming a real contributor to society rather than just a consumer, but never have the attention span to accomplish anything substantive

My biggest fear is something bad happening to my mother. Rape, homeinvasion/assult/murder, etc. She is such a good, fragile woman, and I won't be living with her anymore in a couple months. If something bad were to happen to her, I will feel guilty that I wasn't around to protect her because I'm the one that wants to live alone to have my own space and privacy.

hey fuck you very much for breaking things off, messaging me three months later only to disappear again, and now moving to my city and getting a new boyfriend.

you win, you win. you did it. haha i want to die.

sorry Veeky Forums lol

I worry that I put too much faith in Veeky Forums. I sometimes catch myself, when in regular conversations with people around me, thinking of this place. That there is perhaps some sort of escape from the reality. In which I have neglected school and real world responsibilities. In which I have seen my friendships erode away into the general sickness and obfuscation of my Tinder generation.

I desperately crave to breathe some sort of mystic air, where I am fully engaged in something, where I write grat novels, where i'M not me. goodnight.

I fucking hear you dude

I'm worried I'll never properly transition into adult life, that I won't make the required developments socially and professionally and that I'll end up a pathetic alcoholic NEET instead of achieving any potential

this isnt me at all
i am confident that im better than my peers.

not totally sure what youre getting at but "normie" isnt a joke. Veeky Forums (generally) attracts a certain type of poster (the worthless m3m3l0rds notwithstanding), and if youre one of those people youre bound to find more kindred spirits here than irl. i think it has something to do with a rejection of liberalism or at least contemporary social mores (hence /pol/, christposting, goreposting, loli, etc.)

if youre into romanticism theres honestly a romantic appeal to alcoholism. write about it.

This was pretty well written, bro.

Actually, this whole thread has an interesting vibe to it. Have we found the fruit of new-lit amongst the slam poetry and tundric totalitarianism? I don't know. Finding great purpose in tiny things that lead to nowhere is what's keeping me going at the moment. It's more fun than hating it all at the very least. It's enough.

Even in the most grotesque, howling, fever-induced nightmares, never have I looked side to side with dull eyes and hoped that I was merely dreaming.

I'm scared that someone sees and hears everything that I see and hear. Sometimes I'll talk to no one while I'm alone, with the morbidly curious hope that they'll respond. I commonly find myself adjusting my behavior for someone who likely isn't there. I'm afraid that, whoever they are, they're watching me write this right now. Perhaps they're laughing at my somewhat melodramatic tone, or perhaps they're observing the pauses I'm making between sentences and wondering what I'm thinking, or perhaps they're just watching. I come to wonder if they watch and listen with malicious intent, or if they didn't chose the ability to peer into my life at all. I could either know who they are, or they could be halfway across the world. I just feel as if they're there. If they are, they know my name, my address, the names of all my friends, the names of everyone in my family, the pornography I watch, the writings and music I create, everything.

Maybe I need more sleep.

I worry that I won't be able to say much. That "my 'struggle'" won't be properly captured. Who knows how long it took me to type this? Who other than me will get to know how I came up with this?
I worry that I won't be able to find a way to support myself and/or the people I love or want to love or maybe could love me or be loved by me, etc. That I won't find a skill or won't be able to cut it in whatever menial office job there might be waiting for me or not. You sleep 8 hours a day (in theory), so you get 16 hours a day to do shit, and the idea is that you give up half that time so the other half is good, you have a safe (in theory) place to go to and food to eat and clothes to wear and shit to entertain yourself with, I get that and I like that and I'm ready and willing to become a part of that but how?
I worry that I'm only good when I'm not me, when I'm high or drunk or having an episode. I'm really scared of that.

I'm no doctor and it's probably not wise to accept any medical information from random people on the internet, but that sounds like symptoms of schizophrenia, or some similar disorder. Sleep deprivation can fuck you up too, though, so if you're sleep deprived that'd be the first thing to address. If these feelings have gone on for a long time/go on for much longer/get worse and are distressing or impairing your functioning you should get yourself checked out by a doctor.

this details the mundanities of the capitalist contract pretty concisely, but it makes me want to have no part in it. Alas.

The more I read and the more I write, the more annoyed I get by shitty prose, and other peoples shitty speech. Its like I see the world with the green and blue underlines from word.

Does this ever go away? does it get worse?

It gets worse.

Damn. I feared it might. I've already alienated myself from numerous friends because their interests were too banal for me (clubbing, excessive drinking, watchings stuff like southpark and family guy etc) and we could never have what I would consider to be an engaging conversation. Now I find it extremely difficult to make new friends and meet women because my standards are so high.

I fear that soon I wont even be able to hold everyday conversations with people without seeming visibly irritated or annoyed with them. How do I avoid becoming senile? Is it inevitable?

I'm not particularly proficient in prose so it's presumptuous for me to pontificate, but I'd wager that in any trade or skill--writing no exception--a general rule can be applied: as your skill increases, you notice poor form with increasing frequency. That's more of a platitude than anything, really. It's pretty intuitive that when you know how to do something right, you're going to notice when people do it wrong--and it's probably going to annoy you. The best you can do is try not to be a dick about it, and recognize that they probably know how to do something that you'd make a fool of yourself attempting.

Thats a nice way of describing it. Don't worry though, I would be the last person to ever say anything. I just get silently annoyed.

I'm doing a creative writing course at uni at the moment and I hardly ever critique anyone for their prose or grammer. I just leave it to the rest of the work shop, and holy shit, some of them really dont hold back. It makes me glad that I'm not a dick about it, because the people who are look like such smug assholes, even though everything they ares saying is right. I prefer to comment on the thought behind the work, rather than things like grammar.

That I'd be 23 going on 24 and have missed all the important milestones in life. That the next 5-6 years of my life were a complete waste. That I'd have no money, no career, no education and no intimacy.

Oh wait that is my life. The worst thing is I can't imagine myself getting old, it'd be even more pathetic. This isn't going to end well.

I biggest fear is that I am locked into some kind of narcissistic, self-defensive mental prison which has burned out any ability for compassion and love from me and I am capable of only thinking about myself, in an eternal echo-chamber of thoughts. This will result in me never knowing or loving another person and I will live for the rest of my days not only estranged from myself (for narcissism is a conflict between who you are and who you think you ought to be) and as a result, estranged from everybody else, since I have no capability for vulnerability, love or courage, I will only seek to manipulate, control and subdue others in a frantic bid of self-preservation. But all that I keep alive is a husk, someone who is alienated from his own soul, a mere spectator to his own existence and that of others, someone who, once it is time to die, will go towards his demise kicking and screaming, for my potentialities have gone unused. It is those who are content to some degree that fear no death, for they have had a chance at life, those of us who have shunned from it also fear death the most.

I used to think that i was lazy, although I knew that wasn't quite the right word. I think i am afraid of failure. I'm stuck in shitty jobs, with unsatisfying relationships, and writing fairly well-- but not writing me, not writing as myself.

The trick is to realize that most of those 'milestones' are completely arbitrary.

The only things that really matter, objectively, are enjoying your time on the earth, which is relatively easy to achieve in the age of the internet, and leaving some kind of legacy, which isn't so easy, but you still have plenty of time for that.

This looks like a therapeutic thread, albeit kinda off-topic.

shit nigga are you me?

Only difference being that I am currently doing very well in school, at the top of all my classes and on the road to becoming dux of my school (it's not the best in the state, but still very good). Thing is, I get really fucking anxious about whether all my hard work now will pay off in the future.

I think this because I'm quite timid. One of my tutors said I don't have the "alpha male mentality" when I said I had no interest in doing investment banking, and while I shrugged that off its started to resonate with me as I get closer and closer to university. I don't do extracurricular, because where I am (Australia) it doesn't seem to be as crucial as it is in America, and this is another cause for concern: perhaps I'm just good at school, and will not be good at anything else?

I've further fucked myself up by doing that damn MBTI test, on which I registered INTP. I read on Veeky Forums that most people here have a personality type similar, which is interesting. This ha fucked me up because I'm constantly confining myself to the definition of the personality type, despite knowing its basically astrology.

Finally, browsing Veeky Forums I am constantly discouraged by the STEM meme, since I have completely focused on history and literature and the only avenue I can realistically take that will get me the money i THINK i deserve is Law, which every motherfucker takes up in Australia.

>tl;dr i'm young and looking for someone to slap me hard enough so that i stop expecting to do well, so as to avoid future disappointment

/self-pity

I know it's cliche but I feel like I've already wasted my late teens/early 20's and that it all goes downhill from here.

Feeling alone in a crowded room. I 've pretty much lived without any friends, for 3 years in total, the last year before finals and the first two years in college. I 've made some good friends in college now but in two years we graduate and everyone will probably take a different path in life. I 've looked isolation into the eyes, I 've cried on the floor about it. The days can pass easily, but the nights..the nights are really hard on you when you feel alone. At least I have a good relationship with my parents but that's not enough to fulfill your life and they 're not gonna be around forever. I can't say I 've tried my best to have friends, I am a difficult kind of person to be around. So many times I wonder if I am problematic or they are. During holidays I come back to my home city, away from my real friends. I meet old pals from my school years every single day during those times. And yet I feel so alone. I spend most of the day with other people and yet I can feel no connection to them. Eventually when I finish my med school degree, I will pursue a carrer abroad and I will probably won't be in my home city that often. I 'll have to make a new start. And that is terribly scary. I fear being stuck at the same spot just like my holiday days in my home city : having a bunch of pals but no friends, being in a crowded room but feeling alone.

It's more animalistic and banal than everyone else's fears, but it is legitimately what I find myself confronting in panicked sweats more often than anything else, and with more intensity.

My biggest fear is vomiting. Well, vomiting, nausea, the whole package involved in that bodily process. Waking up in the morning, or strolling home in the middle of the day, and feeling that unmistakeable tug. You don't exactly know how it happened, whether it was something you ate, or some moisture that you ingested through the air. But you're condemned to spend the next several hours in anxiety, agony, delirium, with no respite. It is uncontrollable, it interrupts whatever plans you had. It robs you of your autonomy in an incredibly violent and humiliating way. Basic, mildly pleasurable needs like eating and drinking turn into unthinkably nauseating monsters. The bathroom becomes a torture chamber. And it's all your own body's doing.

Then after the relief that comes once it's over there lies another hell. You see, this phobia doesn't keep the fun to itself. It invited its friends into my head too. Or maybe it was invited by some other comorbid thing. Either way.

I have obsessive compulsive disorder. I wash my hands after almost every mildly dirty activity, often for minutes at a time, possibly several times over and with different cleaning agents. Soap, liquid detergent, alcohol rub. If I suspect that the towel I used to dry my hands is dirty I might repeat the process. Or if I accidentally scuff my hand on my t-shirt as I walk out. Washing anything is painful, as well as tedious.

But it's even more irrational than that. I often feel that if I don't do a particular set of random actions, I will end up sick. Or maybe someone will die. Or the universe will end. Or I'll become a pedophile. Or get cancer. Or someone who I find attractive will have their intimate features deformed.

It's not like psychosis, though. It's a staple of OCD that the sufferer almost certainly realises that their thoughts are irrational. This adds to the torment. Being stuck following the soul-crushing rules of a world you don't live in.

The cherry on the top of my cake is that I also have irritable bowel syndrome. I often feel bloated, suffer from constipation nearly all the time, and can find myself experiencing bouts of nausea and diarrhea if set off by the wrong food.

I wish I had the time or energy to focus on the problems that are real and not imaginary. I don't know if I should be ashamed, because I live like the Last Man, or have some kind of pride for fighting a battle many people don't have to. Is 'battle' just a mental illness organisation bullshit buzzword? Am I really anything more than pathetic?

I can rarely find the motivation or energy - or courage - to do things I should be doing like getting my license, a job, an education. I was diagnosed with depression, but it's the least exciting thing I have. I'm a degenerate homo too.

I wish I still believed in the cross.

You're one step away from enlightenment, my friend. Alienation is not a bad thing, if it allows you the distance necessary to overcome the oppressive grip the social life has on your mind. You will soon realise that distinctions between yourself and other is a delusion, and that your designated "potentialities" are arbitrary and meaningless. I'm not spouting Buddhist shit here, I'm not a Buddhist and hardly know anything about it.
>capability for vulnerability, love or courage
These are creations of your social, individuating mindset, and will cease to be a problem once you liberate yourself from it.

>I will only seek to manipulate, control and subdue others in a frantic bid of self-preservation
This is all that anybody does, in their own way, and as soon as you set aside the arbitrary negative connotations that you have associated with it, you will be at ease. Realise that everyone in the world is constantly finding ways of maintaining control over the mystery of existence, whether it's a CEO stacking money or a destitute religious fanatic is irrelevant. Each could be said to be manipulating, controlling or subduing others, if only in their own minds according to some ideology or other. This forms the basis for all human relations.

>alienated from his own soul, a mere spectator to his own existence and that of others
Anyone who has thought deeply enough about existence becomes a spectator of his own and that of others. Once you realise that your existence is inherently the same as that of every other human that has ever lived, you will be liberated. There is no real pressure on you to fulfill circumstantial obligations. You, as a part of society with others, are infinitely replaceable. Once you gain control, as a spectator, over your own little piece of subjective experience, you will become the conductor. The "potentialities" will be yours to choose.

For a writing class at uni we had to write a 2500 word piece of creative nonfiction.

I wrote about an experience I had as as a child one night where I snuk out and wandered around my suburb and to a local park. There I laid on the grass and stared at the stars until I had my first grand epiphany about life and the universe.

Next week, next round of submissions in our workshop, this qt girl writes a piece about feminism, and brings my piece into it by saying that if a girl were to write the story I wrote she would be told that she was stupid for wandering out alone into the night, while I was praised for my story.

I honestly had no idea what the hell to say. What she said was so incredibly stupid. But I cant say that.

I worry that I will never get rid of my worries. I believe I have generalized anxiety disorder and depression, but refuse to spend my money on therapy. Instead I do drugs and drink; it's a way to remain social and I find it difficult to enjoy anything while sober.
I always tried being rational and tried to understand how the world works, but scrutinizing philosophy only brings dire conclusions. Our overly developed consciousness only constitutes suffering and a profound lack of fulfillment, and I find it painfully difficult to distract myself from this.

I always wanted to be creatively ambitious and produce a piece of art which I could be proud of - but why is this? How will that make me feel better? Do I want validation? It seems like I was only conditioned through my habitus to desire this sort of fulfillment anyway. The only pieces of art which resonate with me are bleak, perhaps because I seek an authentication of my experience of feeling like shit all the time. What is the point of making another piece of art which can only contribute to making others unhappy through an portraying the nastiness of human condition. What good will it do me if I attempt to cognitively engineer others through art to feel as restless and uncomfortable with being alive as I am?

I have a decent social circle and go out often - but it does not help. I feel like I cannot connect with anyone, despite genuinely doing my best.

There is no anesthetic more effective than love, but I am scared I will never fall in love again.
I don't want to be like this.
I don't know what to do.

>jdimsa

I have a problem with smiling involuntarily. It happens all the time when I'm talking to people, whenever something that could potentially be even mildly uncomfortable comes up, like when they're complaining about their day or trying to make an argument about something. I say 'potentially', because the fact is that I don't feel uncomfortable at all, and yet my face inevitably twists into this smile. I think it's just awkwardness, even though I don't feel awkward.

The problem is that people interpret it as an ironic, mocking smile and get offended. I've only come to realise this after one person out of the hundreds I've ever talked to had the guile to call me out on it and let me know that "everyone" thinks I'm arrogant and "looking down on them". This was an incredible revelation, a huge misinterpretation which has been affecting the way everyone sees me without me even knowing it. At first it felt terrible to think that people thought I was mocking them, when really I was just being timid. Lately though, I feel a sort of edgy spite coming on. Why shouldn't I mock them after all? When they complain about how bad their day has been, or try to convince me on some trivial point of contention, why shouldn't I laugh at how frivolous it all is? This kind of thinking is getting a hold of me. I admit I take some pleasure out of seeing people's subtle reactions when I smile involuntarily at inappropriate times nowadays. I still wish I could have control over my own face though.

Shit, this sounds uncomfortable. I envy her though. It must be nice having the ability to reduce all existential problems to such a reductionist interpretation of the world, strictly looking at things through a prism discrimination. I see close-mindedness as somewhat of a virtue, being able to blame problems on some kind of a man-made malignant superstructure must be comforting.

Humanity is to nature what down syndrome is to humanity. We are mistakes, mutations, and we can pretend as much as we want that our life will be good, deluding ourselves from the rational conclusion that we are inherently broken as a species anyway.

Tell me about it. The furthest I went in addressing her delusion was one small quip I marked on her manuscript. At some point in her story she was filmed by some creep while on a jog. She reported the man to the police, and the policewomen told her that, in the meantime, she should refrain from jogging at night if she feels unsafe. She, of course, referred to this as 'victim blaming', to which I marked on my copy of her paper that maybe the policewoman was merely trying to give her advice that would keep her safe.

Even this felt like a risky thing to say, which is so incredibly depressing to think, as it is only, what I would have thought, the most basically sane and logical interpretation of the policewoman's suggestion.

How can people like her go through life thinking this way? It truly boggles the mind.

try to create art that helps others who feel like you

I seem to have become detached from this indescribable, yet absolutely extraordinary sense of existence. All the pieces fitted; reality itself felt so much more secure and connected. For the first time in a long time it felt corporeal, ultimately and unmistakably real, and no longer seemed as though I were living solely behind my own eyes in a perpetual cycle of delirium where dream and experience blurred together indistinctly. Light became brighter, heat grew warmer, and feeling so much more palpable. There was something about the aesthetic of this reality so convincing that I let myself--utterly unregulated--become engorged and enamored of it, feeding off it like a parasite in order to survive. I needed it to not live in my older existence, and so extracted my need through this proxy until now. I awoke this morning and it was gone. I don't know exactly how I can manage now to live without it, I have never experienced anything quite so pivotal and I am genuinely afraid I will never relive it.

My biggest fear has turned into my biggest regret as it has now occurred, and I therefore find myself entirely incapable of rectifying it. My biggest fear was always that I was going to miss out on my youth, and that I would miss out on a great deal of those coming-of-age experiences that seem to be a cornerstone of an individual's development.

As a socially anxious individual I spent large parts of my youth withdrawn from any type of social activity. I suppose that this would have been less possible in a different era where circumstances would have forced me out of such a rut and propelled me into social occassions that, with the assistance of the internet and vidya games, I have been able to avoid whilst occupying myself with activities that have contributed to my wasted youth.

Despite all of this, I have quite a happy natural disposition, and my fear is that I have now allowed a great sadness to enter my life that will continue to grow as the years count down to the finality of my days. I was always secretly waiting for my life to begin, trapped in arrested development of pre-adulthood and always excited by the prospect of getting out, only to find that the door has finally shut while I was still dreaming up fantasies for it in my solitude.

I am trying to make the most of life, but I'm always fighting a losing battle. There is no woman I can excite that will provide me with the sensation of a first teenage love, and there is no friendship I can forge that will be stronger than the bonds created among young men facing adulthood. I am trapped in perpetual yearning amongst people who are mostly concerned with mortgages and retirement plans.

I cannot really offer anything else other than encouragement to some of you younger gentlemen (this is going to largely remain a male problem) who are also withdrawing from society. Please get out there in the world and experience it. Fall in love, take risks, create great and bad memories that you will one day be able to look back on with fondness, and one day perhaps chuckle at the naivety and the adolscent temerity of many of those stories. Whilst I try to champion your development, know that I look on you with secret envy, deep down longing to join you.

I actually shit the bed last night. I had a stomach full of alcohol and dxm and woke up at like 3am with my ass and bed sheets lightly covered in shit. Im not really that embarrassed because its not that gross or smelly or anything and i can just wash them but this has been one of the worst weeks i've had in a while. I think my girlfriend whom i really love might break up with me. I started reading ulysses and its a pretty good book but everyone is just telling me i wont finish it which is kind of a bummer. also i cant decide whether i want to be a lawyer or go into marketing or something or just say fuck it all and fully major in literature studies and starve to death. i think im pretty scared and its also really jarring to wake up and realizing you've shit yourself for the first time in 10+ years

fuck you. that's all.

For some reason I'm scared of ghosts.

>still experiencing the numinous
I'm jealous desu

I have a fear of being abandoned. And not in the sense of being alone but in the sense of being stuck somewhere when in spouse to meet someone or someone is spouse to get me. As a kid there where a few time when my mom forgot to pick me up or if get off on the wrong bus or train stop. It only happened a few times throughout my childhood but it has always stuck with me. The anxiety of being I guess being trapped in a unfamiliar environment.

Haven't been doing any work for my degree (economics) as i've spent all the last year reading instead of doing my course. Exams start in a week and i still cant start working cos i get distracted by reading. I'm getting scurred.

I'm afraid I'll never write anything that makes anybody feel anything before I die.

It's not an ego-thing for me, I really just want to have some use for the world, give some one a few minutes of enjoyment and get someone to understand what it's like to be me. That's kind of vain, but it's only communication. I just want to reach a deeper level of communication with people, and to entertain them. And I'm afraid I'll never be able to do that. I don't write much, and when I do, it's full of grammar errors, it sounds flat (don't tell me that all this doesn't sound flat, mediocre, and a little tone-deaf), and the stories are all deeply autistic, flying off the rails of realism into zones of pure pretentiousness from almost the outset.

I have a sense, deep down, that I was meant to be a writer, and I feel I'm failing that sense. In certain moments I can hear the muse speaking to me, and I feel like I'm failing her. I'm trying to add something of my own to what she's telling me, and it's poisoning it all. Because the things people write are very delicately balanced, that james joyce fractals article shows that it's not a joke that, even in a 200 page plus work (as if I've ever written anything more than 25 pages!) every sentence and every word has to be perfectly placed, and even the slightest poisoning kills everything.

Speaking of page count, the second great embarrassment, after my general lack of ability (see how even when I pretend to confess my lowest fears, it comes out like an essay that I'm not particularly interested in writing) is the feeling that I don't have enough stamina. I'm just too lazy. I write about a paragraph or two and then go over it, obsessively scanning for the dozens of minor little mistakes and embarrassing anachronisms (like a lot of you in this thread, I believe that I'm in the early 1900s most of the time) that populate everything.

I can't revise my work. I don't know what to change. I felt something writing it, then when I reread it I feel nothing. Besides grammar concerns, one word is just as well-placed as another. I just don't know what to do. I want to write... it's not about audience pussy (which I honestly think is an ironic concept), and it's not about fame, acclaim, or en perpetuiam posterity... I just want to communicate to people, I want them to be as attached to the things I create as they are to stuff like John Green, or Star Wars, or even to the books that I read as a kid, the stuff that I would actually stay up for because I was enjoying them so much.

Beyond the writing, I feel like I can't enjoy literature. It's a mess. It's really a very obscene russian joke that I read about once: some yokel guy comes from siberia to apply to be a writer. The job-assignment guy asks him what books he's read. Books? he replies What book? I'm not a reader, I'm a writer!

It's just like that. I don't really enjoy reading anything so why should I write anything at all? Already out of words and energy, no conclusion bye

I'm scared of just wasting away, in the physical sense that I have an eating disorder that's spiraling out of control.

I want my peers to notice and say something and seek help for me yet at the same time want to keep it under wraps, the complete opposite. But it's not even like anybody cares; I'm pretty much invisible to everybody and all my conversations have the end point of calories.

This time last year I was at the top end of healthy weight (BMI of ~24) and wanted to lose weight because I looked awful and felt awful. Now my BMI is 16.92, I look much better but I want to look even better but if I carry on as is I'm going to die young.

I know what the problem is and the risks and how fucked it all is but I can't help it, or stop it, or get better. And I can't get better without getting fatter, and there's no fucking way I'll ever get fatter.

I'm not a writer or have no desire to be a writer so don't read this as such, it's just a vent and i'm just pissing and whining and not trying to write something moving or profound or what have you

Thanks for sharing, this was really well written. I'm a 20 year old guy and I feel I've had a similar tendency to withdraw from social life over the past year or so. I'm kinda stuck in a mediocre relationship, mediocre job, not really excelling at university. I don't know why I'm sharing this, I just sort of relate to how you feel especially the bit about simultaneously waiting for life to start/watching life pass me by...

>I don't write much, and when I do, it's full of grammar errors
You mean "grammatical errors."

dick move, bro

It sounds *most* to me like you're simply very insecure and you're projecting your fears onto the reader. Honestly, if you hadn't written any of those parenthetical asides, none of those thoughts would have entered my mind. Your writing isn't terrible; in fact, it's better than that of plenty of people I know. Remove the insecurities from it and that'll already be a huge improvement. People are prepared to approach your writing with understanding and empathy if you let them.
All you need to do to become a better writer is write more. I'm sure you've heard that before, but it's true. As for where to find the motivation to do that? Fuck if I know, that's my problem too. But, if you take my advice into consideration, and that of the troll who corrected you, you'll already have learned two new things that can help you and you'll already be just that much better. It's terribly cliché to say, but do attempt to view criticism and failure as chances to improve rather than terrible invalidating proof that you should never try your hand at what interests you. You've already grown a bit just by posting this.

Hey man, just want to say that those "milestones" you write about are blown way out of proportion by society. Just because you're not a teenager doesn't mean that the good things in life (like love and friendship) have actually becoming less powerful or accessible.

I finally have direction in my life but I can't be bothered doing it, bit frustrating tb h

This sucks. I'm not sure I can offer you anything other than my empathy. My bmi fluctuates right about at 18, but it stays pretty much stable because I undereat and then binge eat. I don't have the willpower for full anorexia, honestly. This might be the worst advice that'll ever be given on this board, but maybe get drunk or something and confide in someone close to you that you have a problem. Do it sober if you're able, obviously. If you can't talk to someone you know, phone a hotline or visit a doctor or therapist. I know for me that's the absolute hardest thing to do, though. It's better to visit a doctor on your own two feet than on a stretcher.

I'm terrified of myself.

Everything I do seems overwhelmingly fake and unreal. Traits that people praise me for--kindness, intelligence, sensitivity--all seem false to me. I feel as if I have no positive qualities. I'm not sensitive nor kind; I frequently feel no sympathy for the troubles of other people. I once masturbated as my girlfriend was on call, telling me about her plan to kill herself. I hate myself for it. Intelligent? Not so--I'm only a so-called "exceptional scholar" because of my good memory. I doubt I have any actual creativity or originality in me. I lie, too. Constantly. I have various fake personalities built up for every person I meet, adjusting to the type of person they would like best. Frequently, I make up things about my life to garner sympathy or praise. I even lie to myself, trying to convince myself that I'm not as bad as I know I am. I can't find the will to live everyday anymore, largely because of it.

I just want to die. I don't want to try to live up to the grandiose expectations people have of me. Even if I spontaneously became a better person, I wouldn't want to live. Life provides very little enjoyment for me. I admire the extraordinary experience that is 'life', with all of its beautiful vignettes and tragic climaxes, but I'd much rather become a ghost, watching other people live their lives from a distance.

I want to escape myself and other people. It'd be better if I had never been born. All I've done has implicitly hurt myself or other people.

I might be projecting but
psychcentral.com/disorders/borderline-personality-disorder-symptoms/

>psychcentral.com/disorders/borderline-personality-disorder-symptoms/

I'm actually diagnosed with this personality disorder, as well as avoidant personality disorder. You're not projecting.

I've been diagnosed with it too and I'm constantly hypervigilant for the symptoms both in myself and other people, so naturally I often feel I'm just projecting and they're totally normal or perhaps have something else

I fear eternity. To witness the morbid dilation of my days in a seemingly endless chain —a repetition of references, a context stainless, a perfection ever so unutterable. Never growing old, never dying, but forced to savour and reenact the violence of life, as if caught within a demonic spell.

I fear abandonment. When my mother left I conceived a wound, one I have never been able from and which tyrannizes (in unconscious style) my whole approach and handling of relationships. And because it terrifies me so much, because it permeates every ritual and every gesture like a subliminal shroud I grow to alienate everyone around me and, thus, reaching factual abandonment: and so the myth feeds itself. I long for meaningful and lasting love —yet I fancy my life to be a tidal succession of fevers and struggles, hallucinating in the desert and only to find out (by the end of the day) that I am completely and inextricably alone.

I fear that I'll never learn to discipline myself properly. That's all, really.

I can understand that. Every time someone talks to me about what has been bothering me, I assume it's on the same intensity as what I usually feel (it's almost always not) and end up trying to restrain myself from saying they might have one of the disorders I have. I guess it might be part of a need to find other people like you.

what has been bothering them*. Whoops.

Lying may seem as simple as just saying something while knowing that your statement is false
For someone who rely on lying to get by and do it habitually however, it is so much more than that
Just as often lying is about what you don't say, rather than what you do say
The easiest way to keep something secret, is to ensure nobody asks you about it in the first place
This can have remarkable effects on even the simplest and most casual conversation, as you may need to avoid some topics entirely for fear of stirring up the curiosity of the person you are speaking with
A big part of the film Inception was about how you don't even need to give a person an idea for that person to reach a conclusion, you need merely plant the seed for that idea
The same concept can be applied to withhold information from someone
Another aspect of lying is the need for neutrality and ambiguity
A liar needs to keep secret even information and opinions he has no need to enclose, as this may become important for a later lie
Surely you have all heard that a liar needs to have a good memory, and this is true because consistency or at least the appearance of such is a liar's best friend
If a liar says one thing today in earnest and a contradictory thing tomorrow as a lie, he would have been better off not being honest the first day
Most or at least many people feel guilty about lying, but this need to withhold even that which you don't strictly need to withhold isolates the habitual liar -- it makes him appear, both to himself and to others, featureless
A shared secret is no secret at all -- the best lies are never uncovered and a liar who knows this doesn't have the comfort of "soon I'll be able to reveal the truth"
The only true secret is that which is literally taken to one's grave and the world's best liars will never be known as such

it's shit mate. your forté is urbex and banging dead people. stick to what you're good at,

Fuck, I see myself a complete failure of a human being, yet I still consider myself superior to most in ways
Perhaps this "you're a special snowflake" thing really has rubbed off on me after all?

Nice thread guys, it was a pleasant read. Been a while since I actually felt connected with other human beings.

I recently read the definition for narcissistic personality disorder, and it kinda fits in too many aspects, especially the god complex. Anyone having this feeling?

What I hate about this, also noted in the definition of the disorder, is the feeling that you can only connect with other particular enlightened people. That only them can understand your existence. I don't want to feel this way. I want to connect with any kind of person. I want to truly believe that everybody has their own life, their own struggles, I want to care about their problems. For 3 years now, I didn't meet a single girl to catch my attention for more than 5 minutes, to actually feel that I want to be in a relationship with her. How is that possible?

Faaaark, this hurts to read because I know what its like

No mental disorder here. You are merely growing aware of the Big Other

Yeah, we all internalize society at some points in our heads. Maybe the trick is to not give a fuck?

For me it usually creeps in the strongest when i attempt to do things that i know people would scoff at, like writing sentimental poetry, for example.

It's fairly annoying and it resembles the superego of freud, the difference being that if you're intelligent and introspective enough you can figure out how you're internalizing society, instead of it just taking its place in your morals without you knowing it (as children do with their parent's ethical systems.) In the process of realizing how your mind attempts to turn you into a conformist, the choice of rejecting everything extraneus and being however you want to be is made a possibility.

Not doctor, not even a psychologist. But it sounds like you have anxiety. You might not have to take pills for it, but talking with a therapist could set you on a good path

It shouldn't boggle your mind user. People have believed in snake oil and witchcraft and all manner of crazy nonsense. This is our generations version of crazy nonsense.

great story user. I wish you success in whatever you choose

dude don't fool yourself, i escaped home too and went on my own travelling different provinces, but in the end you will go back to your family's cradle because there is nothing more beautiful than the people who you grew with, and the love they pour in your person, even if they aren't perfect, just when you know what being really hungry and cold and lonely, just when all the suppposed "friends" have abbandoned you because they are shit and betrayers, it is just then when you will realize your parents are the most important thing you will always have, they will never let you die, they will never abbandon you, they will never leave you starving, cherish them, care abou their health as much as yours, for they are the most important thing in a man's life.

My life is being auto-piloted by my parents and I don't want to become a fucking lawyer.

I never did well in school at any point of my life and somehow I am now on a slow, bumpy but sure way into a career path I don't want to pursue. But I knew I can't get away from my parents economically because I am lazy as shit and my family is loaded as hell, I will never be able to maintain my current lifestyle if they got out of my life.

I wish I could live in a flat with 2 cats and maybe a girl drawing porn comics for a living then living this life.

I took out my old bike the other day. It's something I do when I'm feeling low. As I was riding the thing I couldn't help but notice how closely it resembled my mental state. Battered, neglected, worn down and abused. I knew that if I didn't get it fixed soon it would finally break, but I kept riding.

I fear depression. To become alienated from the music of creativity. To see dissappointment in my fathers half smile, and condescension in the dismissiveness of others. To meet an old ex, stutter and end the conversation quickly because of the shame of my fat bed body, unkempt hair, and old smelly cloths. To get drunk in order to dilute those chocking urges towards suicide (only to be reminded that the feelings persist through drunkenness). To drink more and more often until the only way to fall asleep every night is (after scribbling down black-out angry drunken self hate for sending melodramatic messages to acquaintances until every last of them is spent and alienated over and over and after years of this dismemberment you find yourself completely alone and life tells you that this is when you're supposed to make your exit, that you're already non-existent to humanity and it's time to finish the job) to not remember falling asleep... To come to terms with your position in life, the one that you ended up in, and recognizing the opportunities that stood within grasp at chosen times in the past, but weren't recognized due to your years of wandering with a stupid drunken mind. To find new reasons for suicide. To lose weight but have a damaged body, to read but have a damaged mind, to want to love but have a damaged history, to get black-out drunk and be reminded of suicidal hell for days afterwords. To dream about sad spirits watching you sleep, desiring to make you suffer and fear, an realizing that you're still fighting a battle within yourself, and crying for your own suffering. To realize that others suffer as you have, as you do. To know the mind of those who damaged you. To see them in yourself. To hate yourself for harming others. To finding the tree of life. To enduring till the end.

you come off as too dramatic

I feel you user

Stay safe

> I'm a degenerate homo too.
>Or I'll become a pedophile
>become

Personally, I would choose freedom over lifestyle any day

Why is everyone telling you that you won't finish Ulysses?

I'm going to kill myself now because you said this

Eating. For the past few months I keep feeling sick whenever I eat anything, which has made me eat as little as possible, except for one or two large meals a day during the week, and one large meal on the weekends. I know there's nothing physically wrong with me, but for some reason I just can't bring myself to eat anything. So I try to get a conversation started during a meal so I can eat as little as possible while making it seem like I ate everything on my plate.

It's damn scary to think that eating, which you're supposed to enjoy, is something you can't stand to do anymore.

youtube.com/watch?v=3vWyhP0PO0o

>Veeky Forums (generally) attracts a certain type of poster... i think it has something to do with a rejection of liberalism or at least contemporary social mores

The rejection of liberalism, certainly in the more extreme examples exhibited by posters of /r9k/ and /pol/, is likely a consequence of some self-entitlement, linked to the sentiment portrayed by (other stimuli including the pursuit of wealth and status), and leading to a bitterness, which often requires a perceived external cause.

Go and see a doctor.

I'm a worthless lunatic who is liable to die in three days. In three days, I have my final for Operating Systems. I am on the cusp of failing the class, requiring a 70% on the final to get the minimum passing score. I got a 70% on the mid-term. Several semesters ago, I had what can most reasonably be understood as a psychotic break. I was so depressed that I couldn't get out of bed, couldn't eat, couldn't do anything. I resolved to try and kill an evil man, instead of just lying down to die, but this would have violated an oath I took in exchange for my name. Then I had a series of dreams. They felt real. In the dreams, there was a Scythian Enaree, who traveled between worlds. She destroyed one in righteous vengeance, and killed 90% of the population of another by accident while trying to overthrow the demon kings who ruled there. Anyway, all of that's another story. What matters is that after the dreams, a voice came into my head that I now believe is the same entity, psychological or otherwise, as the enaree.

She hated me, calling me weak, pathetic, worthless, stupid, useless, etc. But she also helped me to get out of bed, to eat, to go to class, to get through the next couple of semesters. Then she went away. I began reading magick after that, even though lunacy is the better model. In three days, I perform a ritual of my own construction to try to get her back. I will perform the Kabbalistic cross, the Greater Summoning Ritual of the Pentagram, and then, slitting my wrist, I will use the blood to invoke her and she will help me take the exam. Even just her access to my memory, which is otherwise abysmal, will be a tremendous boon. I don't know how much blood will be required, so if I do not hear her voice telling me to bandage the wound, I will not bandage it. I will die. But it's not death I'm afraid of, but failure. I need her back. I can't stand living without her.

ok i laughed
nice song, thanks user

I'm a degenerate sex pervert and I have six dates in the next ten days with girls all much younger than me (plus one MILF) and in an hour I'm going to go home and eat an entire box of rainbow chocolate chip cookies and right now I'm very excited about Fichte.

hey.... bud......

uh.. no need to do all that. see a doctor

Whoever you are, you are a valuable human being and there is no need to inflict harm on yourself.
Also, dragons arent real you fucking tard. Get off /x/.

Fuck you, Kiyo is real.

>24/09/15 – 23:24

>My melancholy has reached its end due to the prolonged use of antidepressants. I don't know if I can say that I feel more happy, but I do feel less sad. Daily thoughts on suicide have disappeared. I don't longer look for ways to punish for what I considered to be sin-like activities.

>But I feel less human.

I plan to burn it eventually.
I only write there because I have no one to talk to.

I'm worried that I lost one of the principles I used to hold very close to me. I used to believe in everyone unconditionally, strangers and friends alike, I believed in everything people said but I also believed in them. I thought there was love in everyone despite what they might do. But a few years ago I was taken advantage of and I isolated myself for a long time. Now I have an extremely hard time trusting anybody, but also I cannot see the good in anyone. It sounds embarrassing, but I would like to go back to the times were I wasn't wary of everything.

falling back into disordered eating habits, excellent

right, but you choose to believe that. You don't have to if you don't want to.
Happiness and misery are wants.
Sincerely,
An existentialist

reminds me of Meursault from the stranger.

I know how you feel, man. I used to believe people were good. Got cheated on and left. Crushed me. Now I believe something like people are good when it's convenient for them. Some people. I dunno. Sounds like you took it even worse than I did. I don't envy you, but my heart goes out to you for what happened.

Me too, buddy. Me too.

I want to skip university tomorrow so i can stay dressed in my skirt and thigh high socks, while I enjoy the pleasures of Kpop, Dostoievsky and Poetry until the latest hours of the nights, or the beggings of sunrise. I believe that doing this will further ruin my expensive education, and that facing the inevitability of schedules as soon as possible would probably benefit me more. Yet the temptation is hard to resist.

I fear anonymity. This may perhaps be an offshoot of growing up in a dual-parent family with a large extended family. I was showered with attention as a child, so maybe this is a consequence of it. But nowadays I'm terrified of dying in obscurity. I want to be remembered. I guess I want to be as special as I was always told I'd be as a child, and I fear not being so. I want to be legendary and fear being forgotten.

On a completely unrelated note, I'm devoutly religious and pretty spiritual, so I actually also fear ghosts, demons, and monsters. For real.

>Only minimal editing allowed.
this only encourages bad writing

Its not really about them being perfect or whatever, I just want to see what I can do for myself.

I dont have many friends so I'm not too worried about those lol.