Post a page of your diary (desu)

But I'm sure someone/somewhere else does :-)

don't feed the frogs.

I've got whiskey on my breath, and you on my mind.

bump

Life has gone to the devil.

The morning was still dark. I couldn't see out of my right eye, I believe I am going blind, it's all so dark.

I really admire Plato, and Aristotle, to confess the truth. I am not able decide who is more to me. I enjoyed Phaedo immensely, and Poetics too, and I know during Aristotle's time it was okay to be sexist towards women so I didn't get too angry.

I finished The Dead by Joyce. Gabriel is a really tragic man.

2nd november 2016

woke up
ate breakfast
browsed the web
ate lunch
browsed the web
ate dinner
browsed the web
showered
went to bed
fapped
went to sleep

the rest of the year is exactly the same.

Studied grammer today
Came home, watched TV
There was Steven Univarse on, I love it
Dad came in, loked the door
Said you was bad boy
Took my pants off
Started stuffing somting up my butt
It still hurts and I wanto tell Mom
It was good day

Not sure how this holds up, I wrote it while high:

I welcome the bite of this cold rainy day. The world is lost to itself, a ghost ship on the wind. The leaves sigh their dying breaths. In times like these I am more bones than man, I have already died my death and linger beyond it somehow as a numb specter. In this cool formless state I do not claim possession of myself and move with a careless freedom; all the memories have concluded, a hush has settled over the events and projects of my will.

I wish to take this moment to be at peace and gather my thoughts.

I must take steps to gather my strength. A war for my courage and hope has raged for long months. Now I see a break in the morass and must make for it.

how old are you? what are you on?
straightforward writing, i don't mind it.
nice

Screams of teenage angst in my opinion
I enjoyed it

lived in three houses, slept in four

That's all I wrote yesterday.

Do you pronounce diary so that it rhymes with shy, bi and cry?

18, Lamotrigine

Thanks

To be honest desu, my diary just consists of rants about the eternal nerd.

What Immortal hand or eye
Dare frame thy fearful symmetry

This was really well presented man, more than most personal writing. You've got an instinct for presentation and ordering. I'd read your diary desu senpai.

We say, “Ava-lokit-eśvara,” in low lighting, chanting with uncertainty, stumbling with how to move the mouth. A mellow bell rings at the altar; incense encounters noses and pleasant apple pie smells arise, all around. Through squinting eyes, I spy again the frog printed socks of the girl next to me, crossed at the ankles, heel tip on floor, her shoes left at the door like everyone else's. Her small hands fold gently in her lap. As we close our eyes in silence, the hall fills with creaks and pops, the sound of swallowing. A small storm gallops uneasily as it passes over the high church roof, shaking windows over calmness.

I imagine there is something she says to me with her presence, and it is warm and filled with hope. I try my best to speak the same things back with even breath and open posture. I wonder if she listens to my body as carefully as I do hers. Another bell rings, and without speaking the uncertain steps of shadowy persons begin to fill the hall with their shuffling in shoeless thuds.

Time passes, the lights come on, the class talks about the trip. She says something hurried and flustered. I nod entirely too fast and smile too much. There is tea and cookies in the back building. A massive series of hundreds of volumes of books line a shelf. I pick up volume one with curiosity. The introduction says, “This first series of volumes represents less than 1% of the work remaining. Each of the editors is proud to have begun a translation project which will certainly outlive them by several generations.” It is a great enterprise then, a full translation of the Chinese Buddhist canon into English. I am suddenly stunned by the vastness of things that can hide under words like “Buddhism.” Then there are words like “Love,” under which there are thousands of novels, billions of lives, a great deal of misunderstanding, countless moments of sideways glances at socks. If one could condense across lives some selection of instantaneous feelings, one could make millions of lives that are nothing but one long caress, or millions made of an icy, lifelong stare of alienation and hopelessness.

Distracted along these lines, I find a cold rain alone through the parking lot.

Reading my old diary notes I have come to hate my own handwriting. Although it hasn't even been 24 hours since I wrote down my previous note, I just can't help but read it a child's voice, as if I was prepubescent when I wrote it. Even now while I'm writing these words down, I feel too much that I'm being deliberately serious, grown-up, and when I read the sentences back to myself, the only thing I feel is cringe.

First I thought it was because of my handwriting, but now I think it's because of my amateur writing. If that is really the reason for not being able to take my own written word seriously, I guess after time I will get better and the problem will go away. Let's hope so.

Today I picked up Ray Kurzweil's book "The Singularity is Near" after waiting for it to arrive for more than a month. I came home, already brutally tired from school, when my father told me that my book is waiting for me where he works.

I started walking towards the place and decided not to bike there because the trip isn't that long. I can't really pinpoint what I was thinking about, but I remember that I was so deep in thought that on my way there I passed a man and women who were kissing, which punched back out of my head and reminded me on the living world.

When I reached the place there was no one familiar there waiting for me. It is a small company, so I was surprised not to recognize anyone there. There were two young women who I presume were highschoolers or college students. I told them I was their boss's son and that I was looking for the book.

After I laid my hands on it, one of them asked me what the book was about. That question surprised me. I answered with: "Are you really interested or are you just checking?" Only now I realize the absurdity of that question. I instinctively fell into a defense mechanism instead of answering her nicely. Looking back, the women probably wouldn't have minded if I explained some stuff about superintelligence in an interesting way, and maybe even exchanged numbers, etc.

Instead of that, I exclaimed: "It's about superintelligence, computers, and that kind of stuff.." I don't remember if I said goodbye. The rest of the way home I thought about the things I could've said that I didn't, and my thoughts turned into a recollection of an article about computer intelligence that I read a month or so before...

>This was really well presented man, more than most personal writing. You've got an instinct for presentation and ordering. I'd read your diary desu senpai.

Wow, thank you.

I just started writing seriously this month and haven't shared much so this encouragement is really helpful.

bump

literally me

bump

Why are people so desperate to fit into normal society? I don't get it.

It's literally in the sentence after
>so I can get the highs naturally. Maybe I'll make some more friends, or a girlfriend.

>My Diary: Prepare to Autism edition

...I am the world's to maul and depucelate. I am the carrier of sorrow, born in a castle of glass in the arms of the Andromeda galaxy, caressed by the hand of the wind, forgotten child of God and Dirt.

In my dreams I run away into the space between the worlds, that warm tight dark space so much like those spaces inside me you grew to hate, and I hide there, rabbit-boy, lion-boy, God-boy, shit-boy, as the light passes over me and the moon searches, howling. You prowl at the edges of my inner eternity, you, the child born from my blood-filled organs, the man who clawed his way out, crushing and twisting the delicate machinery inside me, stinking of me, stinking so damn bad it'll never wash off even if you bathe yourself in fire...

If people struggle to make friends with you than who cares? You don't need friends.

You're dumb as fuck

bump

Why? Most people are shit and not worth befriending.

Assuming by "most" you mean 90% of people, that 10% is still pretty massive. And given that most people need some relationships to function, it's worth seeking out.

>need some relationships to function
Only if you're weak. That need must be transcended in order to grow.

Shouldn't you be asleep, champ? You've got school tomorrow!

I'm not saying you should avoid social interaction, just that "needing" it is unhealthy.

My diary is pretty boring and shitty desu, I don't try and be a good writer writing it. I also recently started so I have only like 5 entries and all of them are shit.

----

A little doubt today about whether totality is nothing but it's been resolved. The universal is a tripartite force that is achieved after the end of the dynamic process and stablizes it. I was worried Hegel might have been wrong for a few moments (hah!) and now I'm back on track Plotinus helped with the idea of forms having their own self-determination as living entities.

Finished Gankutsuo today. I was surprised Albert was not the count's son. Wonderful ending though, can't believe Peppo was really a boy though, no boy is that cute. Teared up a bit when Albert heard Eugenie playing.

I'll finally have to finish Legend of The Galactic Heroes. I'm sad that Yang died, I feel like when Yang died, so did my last shred of political optimism.

Having some difficulty writing again. Fuck.

Fun fact: in the real Count of Monte Cristo Eugenie is more of a minor character and the only thing memorable she does is run off to be dykes with her piano teacher

The last page that I wrote. Need to write more to keep up my writing and spelling of low level words.

it's actually a toad

The first page of my diary says
"Here are a list of women with which I've been in love"

Then there are 200 blank pages.

On the last page I've written my suicide note

desu

what is written on it?

goodness me. love it, user. caught from "how to move the mouth."

FUIUIICISIK

CULL
C

FUCCCKL

CUMMMSCAMCS
@
XSFUFUCKKCKCKKCKCKC

FKKDSFAKFKK

CKCKCKCKF

FUCKCKAKKM EEE
EMEMSDMFKK
FUCK

-October 28th 2016

interest. empathy. don't get too hard on yourself, i think you have a knack for writing.

I'll post some diary.

...

...

like this.

...

...

financial and social benefits that make life easier
Then who will tell the EMT that I don't want to give up my organs

...

>financial and social benefits that make life easier
I like the way you think.

cool stuff, nice user.

Sometimes I wonder if people write the letters t-b-h or just write desu.

Why don't you guys just copy+paste the text? It's easier to read.

4/7 12:47am. Got up at 2 by the alarm. Debated for a while whether to shower, whether I had time before I had to catch the 2:35 bus. Spent five minutes wondering about this and then decided, hey, if you're gonna do it just do it, so I got out of bed and took a quick shower. When I got out it was 2:21, had to move quick, focus, think about the next task as I was doing the current one, no wasted movements, no dallying. I was ready at 2:27 with time to spare. I thought my hair looked pretty good, so I didn't wear my hat, but I stuffed it in the front pocket of my backpack in case I wanted it later. Stood at the bus stop waiting for the bus listening to music. The bus came and took me to campus. No time to do anything before Literary Theory started at 2:50, had to go straight there if I wanted to be on time. Prof. said at the top that people with good attendance will "get a break" on the final. "I've decided attendance will have either a positive or a negative effect." He said he was getting impatient with the attendance issue, but he seemed relaxed. He lectured on Feminism and Queer Theory. I took notes halfheartedly. I was sitting next to the lesbian with an empty seat between us. On my other side was Brian, a handsome, lean guy with neat, combed-back blond hair who's always asking questions. It's hard to tell whether he cares about the material or just wants to seem engaged so he gets a good participation grade. Brian dropped his pencil and it rolled off the ledge of our aisle into the aisle below. I followed the pencil with my eyes as it rolled away and when he bent down to get it he looked at me with a look that said something like "Life, huh?" in an ironic way. The sexy lesbian has a pin on her backpack that says "Girls rule!" (1/2)

Prof. let the class go early. He's still not feeling well I guess. I used the extra time between class to go to the café and get a turkey sandwich and a strawberry-banana smoothie. Pretty girl in front of me in line. I imagined she could hear the music I was listening to and liked it and started a conversation with me. Obviously that didn't happen. Sometimes I wonder how many times I've stood next to my future wife in a universe in which I have balls. No seats inside the café, had to sit outside. Chilly. Watched people pass as if they were being presented to me on a conveyor belt for approval or denial. Eyed the pretty girls, envied the handsome dudes. Had to go in and get a plastic knife because they never cut the turkey sandwich all the way in half. Got the knife, cut the sandwich, ate the sandwich, downed the smoothie, went to throw everything out in a garbage can already brimming with garbage and of course when I tried to put my garbage in it fell out along with more garbage. Picked everything up calmly and redeposited it in the garbage can. Calmly is key, because if you act like you're pissed off people begin to take notice. Better to just act like it's nothing. It was getting to be time to go to the next class, so I collected my stuff and headed there... (2/2)

Just about how I had bed bugs a few months ago and was going crazy.

It's Persian.

X

what am i supposed to write in a diary?

i find that i just list all the shit i did that day that was stressful

why would i keep record of all the meaningless BS that stressed me out?

or maybe the real issue is that these things are all that i take away from a given day

What I do is just write about certain events that piss me off, and get stuff off of my chest.

Here is a cap of my pre-writing warm up, which I do intermittently when I'm feeling sluggish.

>he goes to parties and has casual sex
Out.

I don't usually write just about my day, although I will write about interesting events if they happen. I just keep a google doc open that I try to write in everyday, and I just write whatever I feel like. Sometime it's poetry, sometimes thoughts on a topic, etc.. I try to write fast without editing until later, to help the flow of my prose.

I've found this to be extremely helpful in improving my writing.

I am mi home.
Lookin the naughties on thi tely.
Mi papa is com.
"What r u doin a lukin?"
Sees mi naughti.
Take belt for mi punish.
He is givin mi a betin.
I am ly on floor.
Mi cry.
Am sleep.

Dis is mi averag dai.

cool you speak clingon?

Last diary entry: february 2014

holy shit i was not doing well in 2014

arabic is not your first language right?

Nice structure, well presented, okay prose. Honest. I can relate.

kek

1 January
Got a diary for Christmas. I promise I'll write something in here every day! It will be interesting to look back in 20 years or so and see what I was up to.

2 January
Nothing much happened today. Ate Christmas leftovers and drank leftover wine. Dad got a bit drunk and sang Nine Inch Nails' Head Like a Hole while making rude gestures towards everyone when he sang "hole"

18 March
I keep forgetting to write stuff in here. Pretty average year so far

31 August
DENTIST 10.30

29 December
Got another fucking diary for Christmas

Do I really want to fuck my mothers penis? Not jamming my thingy in her thingys hole, but to sort of wrap them around one another, like a pretzel? This thought has been rummaging through my mind for some time since uncle left to find greener pastures and his constant rambling of gold mines, I prepose as always he will come up quite short, such are the challenges for little people. And mother, poor mother, locked in her chamber in the southeast wing, weeping day and night, clutching her clutches and broochery, her sewing, knitting, cobbling, and of course we mean the pie, who else trips themself by trying to walk these harvard yards with feet in my mouth, there is that time I attempted to help her sew my 3rd wedding dress, you remember the romp with Mr. Negro Smith, the underground vitimin salesman, who was always so keen on O-mega, who ordered a giant metal O as the backdrop of our wedding day, mother has been in ruins since that rich fatefully free day, jubilant we all were, until the cries of so unluckily, precisely untimely, too much forsight unforseen searly scorched screams, wailed out from the dressing room in horror, right during the rehearsals of the priest asking if there were any objections. Why the holy spirit must have left that holy man right then and there because he stumbled backwards skeptically from such a tremendous spook, that he, Sir Pastor Ron I. Littleton, May he bless Gods soul, erupted back and then forth, climactically gonging into that big O, which fell instantly crushing my semi widowee, falling and missing me straight through, in all scrambling commotion I ran to find my mother, who lay with a large glowing burn on her chest, what a loving mother wont do for her loving daughter, one would have to query electrons and orbit banker to wonder if there is a greater bond, all the pain and stress I put poor mammy in all to try to dewrinkle my gown, and me, never knowing the most appropriate words to say, could only mustard, "O, the sarcasm, of my most great day"

- February 31st 1969

Darla Shitey-Nuggat

Are you a female?

I got put on lamotrigine without any antidepressants and it really just makes me boring. I don't get euphoria from the vyvanse or adderall I'm prescribed either, even when I'm abusing it. Same goes for the hydromorphone I had for a bit. Shit sucks man. Literally no high points anymore, just middles.

Psychiatric drugs are complete BS and any helpful effect they have is incidental. Stop taking them before you permanently fuck yourself up.

For KK:

iam alius partus est Tiberius. nam ille varie disserebat de magnitudine et modestia imperii.