Does anyone on Yea Forums have any longer greentexts or texts more story based...

I thought I was in love three times during my teenage years and all three relationships were absolute shite in hindsight.
This is a big meme lads.

Same. In the back of my head I knew it was never love, but I lied to myself the whole time. But I knew people who had something real and are engaged today. It can be beautiful.

jesus christ user.

legit the cliche 'nice guy' archetype

I'm no white knight but this is all on you you fucking asshole, you had the perfect opportunity with a literary qt who wasn't a slut and you fucking ruined it.
Jesus Christ reading that made me angry

I'm the one with a broken heart, no need to rub it in

>want to bang this girl
>she can barely kiss me without being timid
>grab her breasts to see if I can escalate the situation
>she says she is not ready yet
>ask her if she can blow me since my balls want to burst
>she seems like she doesn't want to
>beg because I'm horny as fuck
>she gives in
>I get an awkward blow job and the night ends terribly
>she never calls

Control your urges. I get it too but come on dude you can wait a little if she isn't a whore.

I think this is a joke friends.

>reading a delightful little novel by Alfred Camus
>notice an upset girl at school yelling at her boyfriend
>her naive fieriness rings true within me
>the Beast awakens, and I hunger once more.
>I analyse her movement patterns for the next week
>find her in the library talking with a friend
>I move like a walking shadow, crushed velvet blazer camouflaging me completely
>"Hello. You have the eyes of a hunter, child"
>she is so enamoured by my guileish charms that she and her friend begin to laugh
>I smirk goodnaturedly. How humoreux. How quaint.
>Invite her for dinner. A quick... bite.
>She laughs. I just keep staring.
>Her oafish boyfriend appears.
>"Get the fuck out of here user"
>"Perhaps"
>i keep on smirking. A single strike to their jugulars and the talking sheep could be slain.
>He punches me.
>Eye swollen up - I steam a small bag of petit pois beside the bruise.
>A brilliant multitasker, as always.

You disgust me. You lack the strength to control your urges and any love that might hold you back. You don't even have the courage to force yourself on the poor girl, instead you have to beg.

I wouldn't have raped her, I miss her and wanted to spend the rest of my life with her

>smash a pot to see if there was money inside of it
>now I have nothing and miss it
comfort me Yea Forums bros

I rarely side with feminists but you’re a filthy monster, bro. If she says she’s uncomfortable, go slow. If you oblige the first time with small kisses, she’ll be on ya peepee by the next week. Take it from a true sociopath

This is one of the funniest things i've ever read on this site

I wrote this right now. Guess it fits.

It’s not about women, or loneliness, or love. It’s about being unable to do something that comes naturally to most. Unable to relate and have others relate to you. Unable to share; to experience togetherness; and, in the end, it’s also a failure at being human - a failure that pursues you throughout life; little children laughing at the weird boy, who doesn’t like sports, who cares little for things magical on their eyes; who likes boring hobbies, who is of too much thought and too little action. Then comes puberty, and the differences are more noticeable, along with the - oh so familiar - isolation. Congratulations! Your brain has developed: you now realize that something is wrong. Then you live in denial: movies, videogames, cartoons, computers - a Neverland of pure bliss and escapism; but wait, there’s no Peter Pan around here! No amount of pixie dust and belief saves you from the ever creeping despair. Then you try to change: maybe you give up easily, maybe only after a long time and maybe you do change. But the shit impregnated into your being during the formative years is still there. And you try to deny it - I’m strong, I’m not a victim, I can turn my life around - but that isn’t true, is it? You’re just a grown up and desperate version of that strange little boy. A funhouse mirror distortion of him, brought into existence by the unmerciful passage of time. You go through nights of despair, but your brain is efficient, it keeps you going: by distraction, by fleeting joy, by small conquests that others take for granted. At the end, you are still shackled to him, to his neurotic and protective mother, to his absent father, to his brother, who takes such delight into hurting those weaker than him; to children who called him everything awful under the rainbow, with the kind of frankness only the young are capable of; to teachers that either ignored or mistreated that weird little boy. And you can recite Shakespeare, have a strong body tempered by discipline, be capable of solving equations whose existence is unfamiliar to most, or even realize you do like sports or pop songs when free of external pressure and expectations, but still, none of those skills can make you escape from that weird little boy.

I don’t really believe this shit, at least I hope so, but fuck, It’s my birthday, I’m sad and don’t know where to vent. To all the anons reading this, I believe in you even when I don’t believe in myself. Frankly, ignore my post.

I identified with far more of that than I want to admit. Happy birthday, user.

get out