Your Diary tbh

In my books you're now a virgin who fucked a dog.

Are you writing a story about me? :^)

Nah, I'm guessing we've already covered the only interesting thing about you.

Oh, okay :^(

Keeping a diary is pathetically self-absorbed. Kill yourself if you do.

Dear diary, today another person told me to kill myself because of you...

I don't think this improved your standing.

The week has felt hard and long. Lots of fighting with girlfriend and adviser telling me my thesis is shit, but laying in bed last night I read a little bit of the Iliad and it made me feel a lot better. It was the part where he describes each commander and their ships; the monotony of it helped me sleep and achieve calm.
Waking up this morning I knew that I had but one last obstacle to overcome in order to achieve my dream. Well actually, two, if you counted God.

Opened at random

"June 10, 2015
This is it! This is the before-life and the after-life. Everyone is here. Everyone is trying to find each other. It has been going on forever and will continue to do so. We have been leaping from physical fractals. As the rate of communication increases our minds will continue to expand and eventually consciousness will encompass all matter and space and a new universe will be born."

huh?

Honestly I consider it more an outlet for my writing impetuses without burdening myself with the pretension of considering myself a writer. I guess its only a "diary" insofar as my mundane experience merely serves as a context for the outpouring, Also its kind of schizophrenic with how it refers to me as "I" "You" and "We" according to my own discretion but here goes.

The Internet, this tremendous confusion of sensory stimuli is a greedy time-sink on which any number of hours may be wasted and never will they quite altogether amount to any discernible sacrifice. There nothing can be given consideration that isn't already on my mind, least of all the gnawing of my nuisance responsibilities. It was clear that in order to get anything done we needed to get away from it. So, as you'll remember I began setting our course for the library in the ridiculous hope that it might allow for something to be accomplished. Yet here I find myself thinking of one book or another I have yet to read and, for the interval, being free from malign grip of the internet, sieze upon the opportunity and perhaps I am therefore even more indisposed than previously. Now it occurs to me that the problem is in fact a mathematical one and nothing of a decisive sort can actually happen. the relation of the past and future and their synthesis in the present is such that a month is fully constituted in an hour and further, a whole year is easily contained within the matter of a few hours and because of this I should never have on-hand the hours to accomplish one single thing.

Jesus christ, get a job you lazy sack of melodramatic shit

This

>get a job
fuck off wage cuck

Oh so you're on of THOSE types who thinks working is all about the money. No wonder you're so useless.

No its about surviving as is my entire life

wrote a lot of poens about my dead dad.

maybe your work isn't meaningless slaving away for the jews but you come off as a retarded normalfag cuck when you say "get a job"

if you believe that then you should just kys

Pathetic. You have the most advanced form of reality interpreting and meaning-making machinery behind your eyes, capable of contributing to the trajectory of the human species. Use it.

I wasn't that user, I your attitude was much worse.

you're not machinery, retard

>can't get past simple expressions
This is why anons struggle with meaning.

it's a bad expression that spreads confusion

Look closer and see that I never said "you" are that machinery, user.

Why the fuck would I want to contribute to this disaster?

I am aware of this

September 15th 2012

At long last, my first child was born. I can't believe this beautiful creature came from my body. I only wish my husband was here to see this. (He was working out of state.) I held my child in my arms for what seemed like an eternity, until it was finally time to put her back in the toilet. I wiped my ass and smelled it, and flushed my beautiful child so that she may be in the arms of her Heavenly Father

To 1) make it less of a disaster, and/or 2) carve up a place where you can have a good time in the disaster.

Why would an user want to write down those thoughts, start a diary thread, share them...?

Profit?

t. black african crime fighter

l-london?

what the fuck else is there to do? If I wanted to post diary entries I would have done so to begin with. I just wanted to read about people's shitty lives. Misery loves company and sho on

So what the fuck else is there to do but contribute? That's exactly what you're already doing right now.

>Also its kind of schizophrenic with how it refers to me as "I" "You" and "We" according to my own discretion but here goes.

Yeah, but why?

12/21/16
It’s been seven days since the last entry already. Sometimes I worry that time is actually speeding up, and that even though I’m 19, my life is already mostly over.
The Finals are over and the grades are almost all in now. An A in philosophy, A- in world literature, and a B+ in calculus. Discrete is not in yet, and knowing Collins, it will not be for a while, but I am fairly confident that I god somewhere around the A- range, putting me at approximately a 3.660 GPA, far better than even I had hoped, at this rate Rutgers will accept me. So now I’m just sitting home reading, not doing all too much. Dad is already nagging me to find a job, but I think I will begin my search Monday, best that I get a week’s break before I start worrying about working again.
It feels good to finally have time to read again. Just yesterday I finished with Gravity’s Rainbow, although I cannot pretend that I understood it. Today I have started to read A Clash of Kings. Killing off Ned seemed like an exciting twist at first, but now I wonder if it was wise for George Martin to kill of arguably the most relatable character in the first book. Now I feel as if I am without anyone to get behind, and this problem is compounded by the fact that several of the POV characters are uninteresting (Sansa and Brand come to mind). I do miss Pynchon’s wit and innovative language though. After this I will have to read another of his works (probably either Inherent Vice or Mason and Dixon).
I feel so damn drained now. I have been awake not even twelve hours, and yet my eyes already are weary.
Yesterday I went Christmas shopping at Marshals. What a miserable store it is. It all just a bunch of crap, really. There’s some sport of post apocalyptic about that place, like the world ended and someone brought all the junk they could salvage into one place. It’s all so cheap and insubstantial. I started to wonder how long a person could survive if they were locked up in that place. They have a bathroom, so water is not a problem, and they even sell some “artisan” food like dried meat, nuts, chocolate, and such. Really, Christmas is such a phony time of year. In modern times, everyone has access to everything, so no meaningful sacrifices can be made in the form of gifts, unless for children, otherwise it’s just an exchange of $10-$20 trinkets, which will probably just end up gathering dust. The best a person can hope for is to give people cheaper things then they receive, which seems ironic. The true sacrifice is to the economy. They say that the larger the organism, the slower the heartbeat. The heartbeat of the economy only happens once a year, but lasts for nearly a month (Black Friday to Christmas).

>At this rate Rutgers will accept me

Do you seriously believe Rutgers is some sort of great school to go to? It's pretty middle-of-the-road, and a state school at that.

t. Current Rutgers undergrad.

25/09/2015

A hérnia causa dor em minha virilha. A minha insuficiência cardíaca causa a minha procrastinação e também provoca a dor da alma. Nenhuma melhora significativa desde o dia 16 doutro mês. Tento, este ano, adquirir disciplina o suficiente para começar a minha vida acadêmica, mas tudo fica mais difícil a casa dia que passa. A Letícia bem me disse sobre o meu desânimo, "desânimo para fazer as coisas importantes e até mesmo as coisas que você gosta de fazer", mas não consigo, desde muito tempo, superar esta mágoa que me assola. Há de ser os fantasmas do passado? Eu não sei, mas há um peso enorme em minhas costas que não me deixa fazer as necessidades básicas de um garoto de dezenove anos. Amo toda a minha senpaiília contanto que fiquem afastados. Não quero ninguém morto. Amo meus colegas e minhas virtudes para com a literatura e linguística, mas sinto a necessidade de me manter longe de tudo, o coração acelera e o peito aperta subitamente. Minha desconfortável cama é o único lugar onde quero estar.
Estou jogando fora todo o tempo de trabalho duro e desperdiçando o dinheiro de minha mãe. Eles depositam suas confianças em mim, mas não faço nada além de esnobá-los.
Continuo cansado.

I legitimately enjoyed this. Started out shit but turned out really interesting by the end (like most journal entries I've noticed).

Kek I just dug out one of my old diaries, I don't even remember this one:

>14/03/08
>It was 3am and I was reading Durdane, it's fun. I was interrupted though, someone was having a domestic, I heard a couple screaming at each other in one of the houses across the road. Then it got so loud I could hear what they were saying, she said: "fuck you, I never want you here!" then he just screamed "fuck you!" back and then she burst out crying. It went quiet after that, so I went back to reading, but I needed a poo so I did that instead. I slept til 1pm.
>I should fix my sleeping pattern.

my sleeping pattern is still fucked

>needing a poo at 3am

the fuck were you eating?

besides Princeton, Rutgers has the best math department in New Jersey.

>Today I fucked my dog.
youtube.com/watch?v=rvBrQOIA3X0

Holy fuck. Havent L M A O ' D this hard in a while.