My Actual Diary

What does it matter? You're anonymous anyway.

my fucking sides

This seems to mirror me right now though I seem more philosophically developed. How have things changed OP?

whats not true about it though?

Oh, man. I'm not transposing all this because "space opera" goes on for pages but it isn't prose or anything. Just plans for world building but I'll just explain the gist of the story.

It was going to have 3 main characters and be based on the Persian and Peloponnesian wars. One character was athenian and essentially an egoist, the second was spartan and overly patriotic and the last was to be persian with a morality based on zoroastrianism.

It was going to revolve around a war between space athens and space sparta and them eventually teaming up to defend against invasion from persia.

One of the main set pieces is the evacuation of the athenian planet to their moon (cleverly named Salamis) while the spartans held off the persians near the sun.

I think at some point I wrote like 40 pages of it, but I have no idea where that is now.

After I graduated, I just moved home and worked part time at a record store while reading. I think I'm a lot happier now than I was then.

Liberalism is how the world is now.
Conservatism and the alt-right is the new cool "world-changer" movement.

wew lad

>10/22/12: The importance of social order to a functional state necessitates the creation of a moral system to be respected within the confines of that state but which should be adjusted at will to suit the goals of such a society. Those who fall outside this common notion will be referred to as irrational or insane both to identify their otherness and to reassure the social group of its correctness. Values such as compassion and socialization are stressed to foster social cohesion which enables a society to act as a unit in times of crisis.

Another personal rant incoming next.

wew

The sad thing is that I bet Veeky Forums is full of people who think like this now.

The premise sounds notbad.jpg not in the sense it would be good but that it would probably make me chuckle. Could you quote a little bit of the actual text?

Made me think of the stranger

What's so bad about this? Aside from the faux-cultured language and "muh depression", it's really just idle, uninteresting remarks that probably seemed deep when you just thought them. Not worth writing down, but it wouldn't phase me if someone posted this on Veeky Forums.

>12/15/12: I avoid caring about things because I am afraid of a relapse into my previous state of anxiety. The things I do care about I am unable to affect change in for fear that I may find rejection, criticism or failure. This phobia is likely my primary obstacle to being action oriented.

Wow OP where did you find my diary

These literally aren't even that bad. Nice pseudohumblebrag, champ.

Its important to write these thoughts down so you can read them afterwards and realize how dumb they really are

This is simplistic, but it's not wrong
Explain

So here's a time jump to 2014.

>2/9/2014
Do I want to be happy or intelligent? I know this is a false dichotomy. Everyone appears happy on the surface but has their own respective doubts and insecurities. My personality remains the same as it was in high school. I am still a smartass elitist that wants to believe I am better than everyone else. Every once in a while I will make some incisive joke or gain some other means of external validation which inevitably leads to a spell of intense hubris which eventually subsides when I return to my persistent state of Isolation. I self medicate my depression with distraction which allow me to escape my feelings of inadequacy and loneliness. I avoid coherent analytical thought like a plague for fear of having to confront my flaws. When I was younger I seemed to think wallowing in misery and proving to others my intelligence would eventually lead to some state of transcendent self actualization or at least superiority but instead it just left me more depressed. I worry that if I continue letting my mind drift that I will end up like my father. A prolonged lack of external validation seems like an extremely dangerous thing. At least I'm not a drunk. - 2:02am

I'll see if it's in my email.

There are some exceptional people who can completely immerse themselves in thought and art and have little to no need for social contact, but most really just want to live a quiet, happy life surrounded by friends. It's sad to see so many people on this board fall for the intellectualism meme without actually being intelligent.

how does it feel to be a walking meme of generic malaise

I found the first chapter, now this is embarrassing.

>I. Akstesia

As I looked out over the Academy’s fountain eastward toward the setting sun I felt a deep sense of disease. It had been nearly three months since I last contacted my parents and I was low on credits but the thought of asking them for assistance was completely out of my mind. I needed some form of income which meant I need to find gainful employment.
I was not unskilled or without physical capacity for work but I had pathologically avoided labor for the majority of my life. I have a fear of becoming acclimated to a routine and seek solely to progress my understanding of this, our humble, universe. My hunger however was not as concerned with intellectual enlightenment as I. I rose from the marble slab at the base of the Academy library on which I was sitting and walked toward the cafeteria. I could not pay but I knew the culinary staff and they would let me in through the rear entrance so that I could eat for free.
“Where could I work?” I thought to myself. “I lack sufficient quantitative reasoning skill to join the merchant guilds as an analyst and I find the amount of pandering necessary to fill a sales position truly repugnant.” As I thought I approached the service entrance of the cafeteria and knocked on the steel door in a rhythm upon which the staff and I agreed as a signal. “If the academy fails to accept my application to serve as a teaching assistant for the next academic schedule, I may be forced to leave this city.” I knocked again. “I suppose I could just swallow my pride and go into one of the many business pathways open to me, the only alternative seems to be librarian and that will hardly afford me a living wage. “ I knocked for a third time with more force. They had never taken so long to open up before I wonder what was taking them so long.
“Kalyx!” I yelled, “It’s Akstesia, Let me in”. I pounded on the door in our rhythm this time and just before the last knock in the sequence the door opened. The figure standing before me was not Kalyx but an academy administrator.
“What do you think you’re doing here?” the administrator sneered.
My stomach grumbled.
“Kalyx, this boy seems to know you. Do you recognize him? Have you been allowing him to dine on the Academy’s credit?”
Kalyx, dressed in her culinary robes stepped forward. With an audible jitter in her voice she said “uh… yes… I do know him.”
I was mortified to have accidentally singled her out. I thought quickly, “Sir, I was merely stopping by to chat with her and ask when she would be free this weekend. I realize that my appearance here is untoward but I assure you it was meant to be completely innocuous.”

(Cont)

(Cont)

“Is what he says correct Kalyx?” said the administrator as he turned to Kalyx.
“Yes, he tries to stop by but I know not to let him in and would not do so under any circumstances.” She replied. My heart sank, I knew the administrator would not believe her lie.
“Really?” said the administrator. He turned back to me. “Please step in.” I complied hesitantly but only to spare Kalyx the full brunt of the administrator’s wrath. Once I was inside the administrator continued. “That is our security system.” He pointed to a small black cone near the ceiling. “It has tracked you entrance and exit from this building for the past six months in addition to several others.”
Seeing that all pretense was lost I said glibly, “I’ll admit, I had no idea that existed.” The administrator shot me a look of disdain.
“You are banned from entering the cafeteria for the remainder of your studies at this academy.” He said looking at me. He turned to Kalyx, “and you are fired from your work study and will not be eligible for future work related aid.”
Kalyx looked distraught but gave a very cold “Okay.”
The administrator stared at me now. I said “Yeah, I understand.”
He responded, “Both of you leave, now”. We complied and he shut the service door behind us.
The sun had now fully retreated behind the city skyline. We walked near one another for a few minutes before either of us uttered a word. I was more following her than walking with purpose. I attempted to console her, “Look, I’m s-“
She stopped and turned to me, cutting me off, “Shut up. You fucking Idiot. What do you think you can say?” she stepped toward me and I retreated slightly. “What nonsense do you think will convince me to ignore this?” She stared at me.
Panicked I thought of something to say but drew a blank, “uh… I-“
“You” she cut me off again “are a lazy manipulative leech with nothing to offer the world that consistently drags those with actual prospects down to your level by whipping up some fantasy depiction of yourself that you hope others will find appealing.”
I was speechless.
“How do you suppose I’ll pay for my education now, or do you even care? Will the sociopath simply move along to another target?”
All I could stammer out was “I… I’m not a sociopath.”
She stared for a second and then a small smirk came over her face. She laughed and then said, “Whatever gets you through the day.” She turned away from me and walked toward a row of dormitories.
I thought for a second “I’m not a sociopath, am I? What is the exact definition of a sociopath?” then my stomach grumbled again. I needed to find food now before the restaurants and shops in the area closed. I was still hungry after all.

Wew. That's the first chapter... of a space opera.

This doesn't even have the entertainment value of being cringeworthily autistic. It's just boring. Everything about this writing is pretty generic for an edgy teenager.

I have to agree but user wanted to see.

I love a girl named Valerie too, OP. Are you in Georgia? Do we love the same girl?

Your thoughts on stuff aren't very deep but they are worthy of some consideration. The anthill and skyscaper comparison is actually pretty good.

Imma gonna get in on this. Here's some shit I wrote around 14 or so

>Though summer at the lake seems but a vapid, vacuous experience, it is a necessary tonic for my troubled youth..

fpbp

like the rest of this board desu

>put yourself in space
>this is novelizing to some people

Most of the rest of that was just schoolwork but I found this

The Socratic Method in 6 Easy Steps:
1. Socrates asks an expert a question.
2. Expert states an answer to question.
3. Socrates makes question statements about the answer and the expert agrees with all without argument.
4. Socrates points out that agreement with some of the question statements contradicts the expert's original answer.
6. The expert becomes confused and leaves the conversation.
5. Socrates is tried for corrupting the youth and executed.

I am from Ohio, so she's probably not the same person.

I chuckled

Valerie sounds like a bitch desu

How old were you when you wrote this user.

It's self absorption trying to pass for self awareness, and a little pretentious, but it's not that bad. I'd be willing to bet most peoples diaries from this board were, or still are, on this level.
2bh mine is a lot worse, basically just this but "cyberpunk"

Thanks for the read

I was about 20.

You sound pretty smart for a twenty year old user :^)
Valerie doesn't know what she missed out on imo

Nah, I was definitely in the wrong.

She was the first girl that was nice to me so I built her up in my mind as a goddess and really just as an object. When I decided to move on her, it was based on nothing in the relationship and took her off guard and then I was a little bitch when she didn't know how to respond. I didn't think about her as a person and that was something that took me a lot of time to come to terms with.

She was just a normal high school girl that happened to talk to me in our english class and be in my group. Unrequited love is also hard on the object of desire as I would learn later in life during college.

Before history, language must have evolved every day. A small tribe sitting around the campfire, speaking in a language unique to themselves, would have none of our modern prejudices against "slang". In fact, the shared history of the language would be as much a part of the language itself, and Thag's story of his triumphant dear hunt, or Org's clever jeu-du-mot, would quickly become weaved into the metaphorical tapestry of the language itself, through reference, repetition, and allusion.

The tribe would then develop, redevelop, and refine their language not over the course of centuries, but in several times within a single generation.

If this tribe was particularly clever, they'd identify several dominant aspects of their language, and be create a set of "rules" to teach their children. Of course, the entire construction of such a set of rules would itself allow for those rules to be tweaked and improved. The tribe being small enough, this would be easy to implement, and probably give the elders something to do. All modern languages are, with the exception of French, quite vulgar and anarchic by comparison.

For example, imagine a tribesman TukTuk, who one day while goofing off, is bitten by a snake and dies.
That night, another member of the tribe jokes that he shouldn't have been "Tuktuking around all the time".
Parents start to tell their kids "don't be so Tuktuking careless around snakes".
And like that a verb is born. Those kids memorize it without knowing the history, and TukTuk is partially preserved for eternity in the language, or until someone with a catchier name fucks up worse than him.

Perhaps language is simply the unspoken history of poets and philosophers bullshitting around a fire.

How did you manage to stop treating people like objects.

Are you happier now. Have you found peace.

Aug. 19
Victoria is the Paris of the West Coast. Better! The center doesn't truly sleep, it's awash with lights and noise. I can't sleep. I'm wandering the streets looking for a warm place to waste the hours of this miserable night.
I should have thrown myself at one of those beautiful women...
Earlier today for example, I was checking out this girl sunbathing in the park. She was wearing short shorts that, cheekily, barely covered her ass. And when she saw me staring, she smiled, and with all the lewd grace of a wanton whore, repositioned herself so the whole of her ass and cunt was pointing directly at me.
I was moved so moved by her gesture that I couldn't even think of what to do for a good half hour. Eventually, she, waving her pussy at me, tempted me to go talk to her. There was nothing vulgar in our conversation, which made it all the more obscene, and she gave me her number.

Aug 21.
I feel like wasps are swarming inside me. I need to move, to do something, but nothing satisfies. i just end up walking in circles talking to myself like a madman.
It keeps getting worse too. The less interesting everything seems, the more I need something to interest me, and vice versa.
What a horrible predicament, to be hungry, but unwilling to eat.

Un de les pue chose que je manque de l'Amerique du Sud c'est leur tolerance extreme de la pedophilie.
La-bas ils ont fou si elles avons 12, 13, ... ans. Et c'etait refresiant, putaine. Ici je peux meme pas regarder quelque Q du quelqu'un de dex-sept sin etre gene.

Just realized this isn't a "post from your diary general". My bad.

I took a customer service job at a small record store with a really tight knit group of employees.

It was a really good experience. I learned a lot of humility and got over a ton of my social phobias.

I do think I'm happier now, but I'm still pretty financially unstable. My writing is better though, so there's that.

Overall, I can't guarantee though that every customer service job is going to help. There's a lot of negatives to it and I'm sure if I needed the money it would have been a lot worse, but there's really no replacement for actual human interaction when it comes to improving the way you deal with people.

I don't care, man. I'm done unless i find some other stuff. Feel free.

Aug. 28
I woke up this morning at 6 am and blew blood out my nose. Then I laid in bed all day. It rained. I'm so bored here.

Galois was in prison at my age. In a year he'll die. What have I done? What will I leave? Compared to him, I wouldn't even deserve to be his shadow.

Sept. 1
See the man who has no hands
He had hands, this no hand man
Who once upon his two hands, could stand
a man with two hands, as any other
In the land.

Who now, disarming to most people
Yet somehow lighter in his feet,
He roams the land, this unhandled man
With nothing but his unsigned promises
To keep.

alright will do.

Dec. XX
I can't walk out the door or open my computer without being assaulted by lies. "Loose weight fast". "Beautiful single women want to meet you". "Find happiness and fulfillment". "The adventure of a lifetime". "Be yourself".
So why shouldn't I lie on my resume?

Feb. 2
Right now I'm in a very nice Mexican restaurant. My burrito is a bit sloppy, but the best burritos usually are. The lettuce is crisp. The beans fresh. The tomato juicy. The pulled pork just a bit crunchy. Everything is perfect, and I wash it down with a lime jarrito.
The entire place smells like burrito, and makes my mouth water. Underneath the abrasive, but chic-ly so, punk rock blasting through the speakers, there's a constant sizzling of meat in the background.
The waitress is absolutely stunning, with deep shining eyes articulated by dark circles. With her hair in a bun, and a very cute stripped sailor shirt. When she smiles you feel like she actually means it, which is rare for waitresses.

Feb. 21
What the fuck do I expect anyone to say when I wank through my fucking mouth
Life fucking sucks and I'm drunk

Apr. 12
Capitalism wouldn't be able to survive in space, on a space station. Terrestrial wealth disparity is symptomatic of the entropic arrangement of our society: Order has to arise at the expense of the generation of waste.
The facade of "order" put on by the top 20% exists at the expense of their shitting quite literally in the mouth of the bottom 80%.

Apr. 19
We all move forward when
we realise how striking and
resilient the men around us
are.

>One character was athenian and essentially an egoist
Fucking dolt, should've been the Spartan. Way more interesting character.

Also wtf egoism has been popular since 2012? I thought it was a meme from 2013 at most. This is Stirnerite egoism, yes?
I think I'm pretty similar to you, in that I just use Veeky Forums for that.
>“What do you think you’re doing here?” the administrator sneered.
Dunno why you didn't publish this user. This is as good as Harry Potter for sure.

Anyone reading? Anyone care?

The necessity of instinct (planned essay):
-Most 'thought' is simply trained instinct: mathematics, language, music, etc.
-Instinct is whats needed (as opposed to reasoned thought) to make spontaneous and split second decisions
-Instinct is conditioned behavior
-Aside from having an open mind, one should also have a clearly defined set of instinctive axioms. Definition->reformation->perfection.
-Instinct is necessary for any survival situation
-By constantly examining our instinctive actions, we can understand our unconscious and seek to improve it
-But we shouldn't fall into the trap of thinking of knee jerk reactions and instincts as "bad" or "prejudice", as certain prejudices are necessary for our daily lives

Rantings on SJW:
The greatest hypocrisy of the modern progressives is their insistence of organization along class, ethnic, geographical, etc. lines to "fight the power", while decrying the countess organizations that have evolved with the historical mandate of doing exactly this. A dozen progressives will get together in a collective aimed at promoting "brotherly love", then decry a Church with a congregation of hundreds as "reactionary" or "outdated". This hypocrisy on the left is something I've never been able to understand.

White privilege is using such a cheap rhetorical tactic while knowing you'll never have to suffer the backlash.

Some of these people are so tight assed that when they fart, they whistle.

not my diary desu

Pssht didn't you read the first post fag?

You've got me reading my own diary.

Christ. This is embarrassing.

Fuck. I thought "lol at least I didn't shit out my hazy philosophy into my diary" and then realised the very first entry was a page of
>Yet I do not mind discomfort so much. The revolution is inside myself, not my body. I, irrationally in truth, prefer physical pain to emotional pain. It does not matter whence emotional pain arises, just that it does; it arises irrationally, incidentally. And, hilariously, this means that I cannot bear other people bearing physical pain. Yes; I cannot let others practice what I preach and practice. I cannot tell young children, nor mothers, nor fathers nor brothers nor sisters—no one!—to be stoic amid physical pain. It would torment me.

OP you're really not abnormal. At least, I really hope you're not abnormal.

12/11/2014

The bird barely avoids the hippopotamus's clasping jaws and lands on a branch just beyond the lake, where he is greeted by a wide eye'd owl.
"Do not resent the hippopotamus," the owl says, "if you carried his weight, you would need relief too."
"Relief from me?" chirps the bird, "I only came by for a sip of water!"
"The water is all he has," murmurs the owl,"understand that he will not let it be taken so easily."

>2014
>eye'd
rip

Better than the 2012 stuff though

Life is a collection of minute an seemingly unimportant actions which, taken as a whole, make the most important thing you'll ever do.

I don't see what the big deal is. Diaries are nice because they let you chronicle your life but also your perception of your life.

But mainly, they're a good place to keep half baked ideas and hyperbole to be pillaged later on when it's time to write an actual essay or book.

Besides, if you tried to make it palatable, you'd be ignoring that part of you which is self obsessed and hyperbolic and completely sincere, which is what diaries are for.

You seem awfully self conscious. We're all anonymous here.

Post some pages from your diary. Lets laugh at ourselves and enjoy the thread.

I hardly ever put my thoughts to paper but here's something

11/25/15 9:30 PM
It Is my first night back on the outside, having been discharged from the hospital. Somehow, I feel almost—perhaps not even almost—sad to be out of the ward and back on the streets. I again have to come to terms with the fact that I am ostensibly a real person with a real life and real responsibilities, rather than some ghostly figure resigned to a ward—unable to touch the outside world and in turn remaining untouched by it. I am alone, not only in the moment, but in life—and the deafening silence in the air and knowledge that nobody is going to come in in 15 minutes and ask me if everything-is-okay-do-I-need-anything makes me feel like my heard has shrunk a bit. I miss not being (or feeling like) the craziest person in the room. It feels weird having sharp objects around me and half a bottle of vodka in the same room as me, unsupervised. It feels weird knowing that I can walk out the door anytime I choose, without notice. Society has again reabsorbed me under the tentative agreement that I will not harm it or myself; my mistakes are again mine to make. I have gone from having my life thrown wildly off-course and diverted to an entirely different direction, to adjusting to that new type of lifestyle and feeling reasonably comfortable within it, to being thrust right back into my same old life, having been affected by the event but otherwise remaining unaltered. I still live in the same place, attend the same school. All my stuff is still here, for the most part right where I left it. My futon is here, and is as unbelievably uncomfortable as ever. It feels to me as though I should have been given a different, new life to live. A new place to live, new identity, new set of hobbies and interests…
Everything feels like it is awkwardly trying to fall back into place in the remains of the life I left behind. I never had an identity then, and it feels like I have even less of one now. I feel like I need to build from scratch some figure who conforms to the hopeful projection of a young discharged mental ward patient with a long, bright future ahead of them. I don’t know how to do that.

heart*

Disease. Being either biologically ingrained or mentally accrued, disease is a state of being which harms or hinders the host in whom it grows. Pathological feelings of loneliness, insufficiency, depression, anger, doubt, annoyance, any of these things can be a disease without appropriate levels of counterbalancing emotions and reconciliation. I say this, though you already know - that you may identify when you see it within others or yourself. That you might be able to save yourself from becoming a member in the ranks of the mentally ill, or to try and help others who have succombed to the delusions which have harmed them. This first bit is easy, for the difference between thinking and knowing is distinguished between a matter of discipline and responsibility. We often think we'd like to have one more slice of cake, but we know when it would make us sick or unhealthy and hopefully choose against it. Though this should seem simple, disease would make it seem to not be so, disease would have us believe that the right choice still yet is hopeless. Though it is hard, in disease, to make that choice, it is absolutely necessary and vital to trust what you know, and to at times know better than what you feel or you think. Maybe with concerted conscious effort at fighting against itself for its own well being might the diseased be able to overcome what ails it.

Can't wait

Should I keep a diary desu? I feel it would help develop my personality, which is vain but in need of actualization

28/12/2015

She was jolly, almost frantic; she said she liked my hair, I said "thanks", she called for "shots!", paid the fee herself. The impression was strange but I played along, downed the blue liquid, exchanged words.
I thought of her as innocent, in our teens, when lust and admiration combined to confound my tender spirit. She was still innocent now, it's true, but she had lived, had succumbed to passions in our time apart, and she looked aged. Her affectation of joy at seeing me again disgusted me a little, though it didn't entirely displease me; it reminded me how much I had changed as well.
She ran off suddenly to "go and find her sister", as quick then as she had been to greet, compliment, talk, celebrate and reminisce with me. I joined my friends and one of them, egged on by the others, told of the time he had fucked her, laughing that everyone knew, and that she didn't even mind. He said he would do it again, that night if he could; I stood among them, smiling, thinking to myself how little I felt towards her then, like nothing more than an old acquaintance. I wondered if any of them thought of me, knowing how much I had loved her, but it was silly to think that anyone would remember it, being so long ago and of so little consequence to anyone but myself. The night went on as it did.
Thinking back later on, however, to her hug, her smile, her affection towards me that night, strange as it was in its candor and abruptness, I allowed the idea to flourish in my mind that a distant memory of infatuation, which I had always believed to be so one-sided, and which was so formative for me in my youth, could, in fact, be shared. For that alone, although we were never 'together', I feel more warmth for her than for anyone that I have been with since.

I was thinking
>this is actually on par with my diary from when i was 15 (in cringe, not in language, i scribble down as few words as i can).
>university..

How old were you when you wrote this user?

he already said

> Every species reappropriates the natural world for its own purposes. There's no difference between an anthill and a skyscraper. The changes that happen as a result of that creation must be dealt with but should not make us question our development.

Pretty good diary, desu

I've gone through the Veeky Forums archives and looked at my posts from a few years ago when I was using a tripcode. Doesn't even seem like the same person.

did your parents ever let a doctor check on that autism?