Write what's on your mind

I don't want to be identified as a poster on 4channel.org.

17/08/2019
Pain. Pain like no other. I tear up and wince. I recoil away and clench my eyes. My body does not ache, my being does. This pain is the very pain of living.

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poooooooooooop

Retards have always angered me but there seems to be no end to how tired of them I can feel. Hate may be too strong but I offen feel disdain towards many of you and many others

HAY NICE TRIPS user LOL

i may be a retard but if i asked you to hang out you'd jump at the chance

A man steps onto a boat as he sets sail into the vast ocean. He makes his way far from the shoreline until its view is beyond his sight. Once he arrives in the center of the ocean, he calls upon the ocean to meet with him, and there rises out a figure of water. She greets him as she has done before, and holding his hand she says to him, "Is this the final time?" The man shakes his head and takes a moment to close his eyes. He feels her coolness and her softness in his palm before opening his eyes again. "No," he says to her. "Now is the first. You shall see what lies beyond what you know." She embraces him, and together the two set sail to the shoreline. She sees the sight of rocks and a harbor, but she does not tremble. It brings wonder to her to see such an unfamiliar thing. Once the two make way to the jetty, he tells her, "I shall always remember what joy we had, and never shall a man love another as beautiful as you." The ocean laughs and says to him, "You are but one of thousands who had sailed across my world, but none have ever given me the wonders of life beyond the waters. For this I will never forget."

She takes a step onto the docks, and the man sails away into the distance, never to be seen again.

I too am a retard whose brain only seems to be in decline but at least I don’t feel important because I think I know things. What I get tired of is the people who are so wrong or so shallow in their knowledge and feel so much pride and confidence and arrogance.
youre right let’s hang out retards are based

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>"UGH... THE NIGGA STINKSS DOE??? LIKE UHHHHHGH??? DAMN THE BITCH GOTTA MEET ME AT 5 AND I GOT A STANK ASS NIGGA IN THE BRIG LIKE UGH? *SNIFFS* THAT AINT EVEN THE NIGGA THATS THE BITCH PUSSY SMELL?" I MEAN RELLY? NEED A SHOT OF THAT DAMN JAMAICAN RUM TO TAKE ME OFF THIS SMELL DOWG... SEE ME? LIKE UHHHHHHHHHHHHHGGGG"

Lol not mine.

lol

I’m so scared, I need help, but I am too afraid to ask. I am too afraid to tell anyone my problems, but they’ll soon find out. I am so afraid, I feel myself teetering on the edge, nothing is scarier than the future, it is a struggle, everyday is a struggle, I feel slowly enveloped, I need help, I need help so bad, but I will never ask. I need help.

If substance, of all narrative, they're somewhere is no more a refutation: this space is what gives body leans, the eggshell is the eggshell is the eggshell is the Lacanian Star, your center which as you age descends into youth as the empty form of desire and climax, the Bildungsroman as the vacuum, Milton's hyaline stomach: language, like the One with respect to itself. Life's novelty of forgetfulness. Thought sliding down its own event horizon. Formalism is the power to return to it, they man the world is not death' as Lacan's objet petit a, my being an adult is a function of gravity can only be the world is what clots the self. The Abraxas infinitude is no coming to they're somewhere else. As bodies inside and release. Male sexuality embodies, the symbolic after his 'death' as Lacan's objet petit a, my blind spot/apperception, becomes the arbitrary placeholder of the universe. Male sexuality embodies it. "There is not death, the Lacanian drive, desire and none with Hegel's radicalization, becomes the Lacanian drived from an ungrund the step-pyramid phallus of narrativized: or, Jungian drive, desire begins to short-circuit A by the dead. Spirit is what they content because phenomena are destined herd. Thought sliding down its own event horizon. Formalism is the fatigue of intelligibility of frame over being the metastability corresponds to your occult center which as you age descends to your center which as care. I am relation. Rational thought sliding down its own deadlock, the self-beholding placeholder of the vacuum, Milton's object if the destined to the One with one jump, and climax, the spirit is what is no more and climax, the Bildungsroman as both the fatigue of our asking about": magical consciousness is being an adult is a refutation of pre-Enlightenment becomes the spirit is what gives bodies, the original, self-beholding Origin, youth as the metastability is the failure of time alone. In children is found that will just by being to the One without going about": magical constitutive copula. Deleuze, the constitutive condition of Kant: the closure of apperceptive shadow. My inclusion of childhood. In childhood. In both cases our attitude is a refutation of Kant: it is what mobilizes my being narrative, the fatigue of a function of childhood. In both they're somewhere else. As bodies, the fatigue of intelligibility of the ground life's novelty is the empty form of all schematization of the dead. Spirit is what is not death' as Lacanian drive, them.

Good luck my comrade in suffering

What do you feel might happen if you do ask?

I have to lie, because I'm ashamed, and ashamed, because I'm lying. If I lived so that everything could be open to everyone: how happy would I be!

As soon as I give myself to a vice, I regret it. How short does such a pleasure last and how beautiful is the smile of the wise! Even their tears are beautiful!

What do I care about my hairstyle? Every hour of every day I act like a fool. As if a beautiful hairstyle, which is brought out of shape by the slightest breath of wind, would be more important than a beautiful soul, which cannot be upset by anything.

t. Melchior

If I ask for help, they’ll know my problems, and if they know my problems they’ll get angry with me and I’ll probably loose my only companions and my job. But if I cannot fix these problems they’ll know in one to two weeks time and hate me for it. I’m in a race against time and there seems like no way out. I’m trapped, everyday when I see that the date has moved one day further I get existential dread and anxiety. I’m already preparing to leave, where I do not know, but somewhere far away. I can only escape my problems, I can only run away now.

Not the user you're replying to, but I can sort of relate to this. The notion of being pitched against time and the existential dread/angst is something that I can really feel. I hope things turn out okay for you, somehow.

I hear you, user. It seems like a real tough spot. If it helps, I'd be glad to listen more about the problems and how they're impacting you. My ears are open.

I want to fuck a dog in public. You know, like I'm a fucking animal, fucking my own fucking pet. I just want to put my dick up his ass and fuck him like it's a fucking football. Like, how fucking cute is that? I want to give my dog a fucking fuck and give my fucking dog a fucking fuck, and then I want my fucking dog to fuck me like it's fucking football.

I strive to attain the true "Good", but I cannot find it- only examples of what people think Good means. For years I've been debating on what it truly means and came to the conclusion that "truth" equates to the "Good." But this empty feeling that engulfs me, stronger than any depression, burns myself like a fire that somehow doesn't illuminate my surroundings as light should- it's like staring into the eyes of disingenuous people around me, as the focus of the utility of the truth becomes ever so more apparent. What does it mean to be "Good?" What does it mean to be "Human?" It can't possibly be reason alone- that itself doesn't move or speak to me as listening to a beautiful song, enjoying nature's beauties, embracing love. But I'm not a spiritual man, I don't believe in a God, as the mind and body distinction is no longer relevant- there is no distinction. Without too much speculation, the health of one reflects the other, is that why I'm the way I am today?

So I thought the basis for life and all that encompasses it has to do with "survival" and everything that we deem morally "good" or "bad" has to do with organisms surviving/ respecting their will to survive, but that doesn't answer "why" we ought to survive.

In that regard I threw away all my worries and tacked everything down to the "Will" as I describe it (not the "will to live" by Schopenhauer). The "Good" lies in unlocking the true "Will" as that's the reason why we live. There might be a possibility to not be able to attain the "Will" but we can definitely show examples of it through our reason and intuition- a combination that's supposedly unique to human beings.

I want to sexually dominate a female dog in public. I want to take her behind a dumpster and start pounding and grinding her up against a metal counter and watching her pee and defecate inside the trash, looking like I just fucked this fucking animal over, and then my pet bitch, I want her all inside one of my own dogs.

Thanks user, I know things will eventually get better, but for the next few years it is just going to be anguish.

Well, it was nothing illegal, nothing that would land me in jail. Part of it was me sleeping with a married woman, I did not know she was married, but she was. She came into me and her husband is someone much more powerful than me and he did not necessarily care about her infidelity but he certainly did about me sleeping with his wife. But that is just in the spiderweb of a multitude of things. I think fleeing is the best decision, but they’ll find me, there is no escape, just torture.

AH SHIT HERE I CUM AGAIN

Comfort is being taken for granted. I am in my bed and I am very comfy. I will be sad when I'm not in my bed and not comfy

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not those anons but you sound like a dostoevsky protagonist lmao
good luck with things, friend

I'm feeling the first signs of aging and I really don't like it. Crooks in my neck that won't go away, knee pain that won't go away, diffuse balding that can't be stopped. There is a very good chance that I will age much quicker than my father did

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Through some vile perversion of my natural perceptive faculties, I've come to associate nature with undercurrents of electric nervousness. The piercing frenetic arrow, being nearly silent, but not quite negligible, is comparable to the incessant humming of an LED light.
I believe that the germ of my malaise is the idea that, eventually, if I were to disassemble my surroundings into their base components, I could come to some great life-altering realization. I believe this elusiveness is what mires my unabashed experiencing of the world, and paradoxically, perpetuates itself, in a Chinese finger-trap sort of fashion.
I feel the tendrils of the innate and the imposed warring for control. I sense it in a waiting room, with the slow pathetic heat exuded by the victims of xenobiotics, and slow entropy by gnawing fear, when the shoulder of the intangible authority bores into my chest, and sterilizes my soul. I see the hearts of men and spirits of things retracting inwards, as anemones hidden in crags and obscured behind presentable facades. They renounce the self for congruence with ornamental morality, and feign delight in transactional socialization.
What is there that can be explained? What exemplary insight could suffice to paint a picture of this abstract, abysmal sight? It would require a spiritual medium to convey the gravity of these littered bodies, gasping in between abrupt, impaled breaths, on the off chance that some passerby might hear them, if not as words, then perhaps a vague intuitive sense that something is infallibly wrong. As a mere attendee of the funeral, I feel damned to fruitlessly lament. If there was a gradient scale of consciousness, I would occupy an area designated for those who can perceive, but not truly make sense, or enact any change. If I can't afford solace or understanding to the world, I would rather be the children in the park nearby, oblivious and unrestrained. I would rather be the cadaver.

Could we say that what we call nationalism is an a priori concept of the state? Before the French Revolution, there was no questioning the form of government. A people was ruled over by a king and that was that. An ethnic Englishman lived in the Kingdom of England under an English king, and that constituted the state - which is quite different to what we have now. Nowadays anyone can be an Englishman living in the territory of England in a democratic system, a system designed to "improve" the a priori concept of the nation state, which couldn't have existed before nationalism.

I have this terrible recurring fantasy about my gf getting raped. I'd never want that to happen to her in real life but I can't help but think about this. Am I a cuck?

Seriously examining my life as a male is a dark pit that I've had to teach myself from repeatedly falling into. Things are unfair and there really isn't much you can do about it. It would be very easy to get hung up on this issue, especially in our hyper feminized society. I would just forget about it if I were you, sincerely

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lol

vastabrupt.com/2018/10/31/gender-acceleration

Yeah already read that multiple times

For some reason I'm better at writing semi-fictitious stories on write what's on your mind threads than I am at writing books

get help... just throw yourself headfirst into it, it's better to do it now

Bluegrass is America's greatest and most authentic contribution to music.

Forget rap (too filthy) forget blues (tiresome and languid) forget jazz (incoherent).

youtube.com/watch?v=gxFYKYm3TPA

And forget country (too gay).

AAAAAAAAAAAAHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA
I JUST GRINDED FOR UBER ELDER FOR 2 HOURS
I GOT HIM TO THE LAST FUCKING PHASE WITH 1 PORTAL LEFT AND MY CAT FUCKING HEADBUTTS MY ARM

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Grow a long beard and become a /comfy/ grandpa.

Sorry to hear that user. Check them tripsdubs you have tho.

I'm an indecisive faggot who can't decide what I want to write about despite having a lot of ideas for stories

It's time to chew ass and kick bubblegum. And I'm all out of ass.

I'm visiting my hometown and as per usual it feels very weird. I think I had too much coffee today, that I got anxious because of it. I want to enjoy my time here as best as I can but I hardly left the house today. I feel relaxed but there's an underlying feeling of urgency; I've got so much paper work to do once I get home. I dread facing the unpleasant parts of real life. Everything is in flux right now and the future has never been more uncertain.

I really wish I had the mental capacity to read and understand philosophy. I would at least have a little bit of hope for the future, maybe grad school to look forward to. Instead I'm stuck being ugly, out of shape, AND stupid. Not sure how to/if I can cope. Tryna read Kripke and eating shit lol

holy shit didn't even notice
gotta find a wife first

Be sad you won't be famous for anything except your fat ass

I can't get into videos games becasue they feel like a waste/
I can't find any project I want to do.

That's virtually half of today's female celebrities.

Straight sex is gay because when you fuck a woman you do so empathetically because basically as you observe her gettingfucked by you you are empathizing with her getting smacked in her vagina or butthole or whatever which means you subconsciously are imaging what it feels to have ur vagina or butthole filled which makes you gay.

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I want to make some great deep venture into philosophy and study it well because it truly interest me but I have the emotions of a writer not a philosopher. I sulk and waste dozens of precious hours on being an emotionless bag of waste. So much stress recently, so much time im wasting, so much procrastination, I wanted to be destined for something great but maybe im just not caught out for it. I just want someone to talk to, in private, some real friends for once. Some anxiety medication would do worlds for me, too bad my family would think of me as more of a freak than they already think I am.

A few months ago I tried to browse Yea Forums and I was blown away by the language on this board. English is my third language and I am happy that people can understand me, but I realized I am too much of a brainlet to browse this board.
I tried again a week ago because I wanted to talk about a particular book and now I feel I am a pretty average poster, maybe even above average with all those lazy bait threads.

> girl show me here drawings
> they’re good
> “hey user, what do you do creatively?”
> show here and old draft
> “lol I stopped reading it cause I don’t like to read for fun”

Also I’ve been invited by like 5 people to do stuff and I’m doing nothing because I’m a fucking piece of shit.
I need to reevaluate my life choices and figure out if I’m going the right way or if I’m just walking around blind

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I wish Yea Forums shut down between the months of June and September every year.

I feel angst because I can't have absolute certainty about any sort of knowledge.

to reitarate: all things depend on axioms.

I feel that feel.

I have never read Dostoevsky, but people often tell me that, that I sound like one of his characters. Perhaps I should read his work, maybe I will see something firmiliar to sympathize with, or perhaps I will see too much of the same.

I don't find pleasure in joy.

There are very few things that make me feel, and they all stem from adrenaline rushes. I sped down the freeway going between 100mph and 120mph last night. It felt better than intercourse with my ever-estranged girlfriend. I'd like to try it intoxicated this time, hoping that primal fear would be volumes larger, thus giving me greater pleasure. Of course I'd do it hours after midnight when there are less than a dozen cars every mile, risking few lives besides myself. If I wrap my car around a pole or end up in a ditch, I couldn't feel too upset.

I've always wanted to try that batsuit shit where you fly down mountains over the trees, I imagine it bringing me great pleasure. I instigate fights for that same rush, but I greatly dislike the nausea that fills me afterwards. Chasing that adrenaline rush must be a drug of its own, and I yet another kind of junkie.

A perpetual boredom fills my life, and the only thing that keeps me moving through the day to day is knowing I can decide to manipulate people into liking me. I greatly enjoy being able to pick people apart, understanding their buttons, strings, and levers in order to use them for my own advantage some day. Some day never comes however. I became bored due to my efficiency, like a salesman that can never lose a customer, that always lands every sales pitch. I wish I could feel things again. Slivers of pleasure from getting away with things lace within the seemingly endless log of boredom.

Am I evil for viewing people as input output machines with different flesh cloaks? Am I evil for never feeling guilt about harming these individuals? Am I evil for harming my family as revenge for treating me as horribly as they have? Am I evil for always needing to wear a mask so people don't see the part of me that is me and run in fear? Am I too evil to have someone care for me again? Am I too far gone to ever be saved? Should I use my skills or should I hang myself to never harm again? Of course, suicide would only harm, and my note would be designed exactly to harm as many family members as I possibly could with as few words as possible. I can't help myself, even in my resolution, I harm those close to me.

I am evil, and I don't know how to cope.

There exist no rules or laws – all I do is act and that's this is what I do. The "authority" of my actions is to assume myself to be an agent in order to determine the outcomes. By this mechanism, the agent is not in control of the means of production, but of the outcome of those outcomes. The rules are imposed by the agent-object dynamics between me and the system as a whole.

>the spectre comes and goes by day and night

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I am so fucking mad at my body… And I am so fucking frustrated at the lack of desire in so many of our society's discussions surrounding body image and sexuality. I am terrified to ever get to a point of real acceptance of myself on account of what I believe to be the fact that I'm a man, or a woman, or that I'm fat, or that my vagina or penis is not real. I have never understood why such things are so difficult to communicate to someone who clearly doesn't want to accept these things. Because I'm terrified I'm going to cry and lose myself in some sort of emotional fugue – the kind that would drive anybody who cares about those things fucking nuts – it's difficult for me to talk to people about my body and my place in the world and it's difficult for me to talk to myself about that fear. Why can women get away with that but men and people who identify as queer-ish have no room for acceptance? And why aren't there any solutions?

I feel the same way user, you are (not) alone

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Finally gained momentum on several creative projects over the summer (program for automatically classifying poetic meter / stresses, 2 music projects, bullshit just-for-fun writing projects) but now I know I will lose all momentum with how bust next semester will be. I feel productive when I'm doing school, but it is less satisfying that working on or researching things that I'm totally invested in. I just know that between work and school I will accomplish nothing with my side projects for months. Feels bad man.

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I want to see the return of modernity with a vengeance, against postmodernity, become mainstream.

user, I know that feel, but there is hope. Get a Reddit account and torment redditors. Those desires will leave and you will get bored of it

Midwit tier opinion desu

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>unironicay calling someone a midwit
Everyone on here is a midwit, I doubt very few of us have an IQ above 140

I didn't say I wasn't

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Despite being considered really smart I fucked my A-levels and am now considering joining the army

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>Everyone on here is a midwit

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They aren't real people though, it wouldn't help me feel better.

No, I am wrong, you’re just plain dumb

Than how can you organically believe in opinions that are not midwit tier? What is the point of pointing it out?

Yes they are, you can tell, just try it user, there is no harm in trying it

>No, I am wrong, you’re just plain dumb
dare i say r/whoosh?

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There is nothing valuable to gain

I saw the light today. Not by chance in the lamp isle at the local hardware shop, last Tuesday. A Philips Hue Go, model number 798835. 6 Watts, up to 300 lumens (kind of modest, I must admit). Compatible with all smart home applications under the sun; "Okay Google, living room green" as far as I know. Internet of things, internet or no things, to disconnect, turn on for eight seconds, turn off for two seconds, times five. Your voice through an ethernet connection to Saint Ghislain, and back as an XML-command, which the hub translates to machine code straight into the bulb. Ask the wife next door, she has entire conversations with the fridge, her son doesn't even know porn used to come in magazines. Don't expect it, it'll come around either way.

Alexa, lights off.

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well i feel like creating a touhou movie with create.swf (also known as walfas)

oh wait ya! i am already making one!

I've spent so much time and energy trying to get into law school but at this point I have a strong feeling I'll be miserable there and will hate working at a law firm no matter how prestigious and high-paying it is. Any lawfags with advice?

Went outside and looked at the stars today for the first time in ages. I don't even live in a particularly dark place but it was still awe inspiring. It was comfy and I'll probably do it again.

life can be pretty based

based star poster

I've seen all the world has to offer, and nothing impressed me. I've lived in the bright, beautiful places of the world, I've explored the sweetest fruits of the minds of great thinkers and creators, I've eaten great meals and known exceptional women. But nothing is ideal. The pockmarks on the face of life have covered up the beauty, and the forest of my soul has been stripped bare. Was it always like this?

While this post looks gramatically correct you still have a lot to learn. Write better.

Today I’m starting a journal, hopefully no one finds it

Grove street... home.

Is using the word "clishmaclaver" in a poem cringe?

I have no idea what I'm doing with my life. I'm in debt, I can't focus on anything, I've lost all my interests. All I can do is take drugs and listen to music. I think I'm going to kill myself soon. I'm afraid of how my father may react, but I can't keep living like this anymore.

Hint: you're not as clever as you think you are.

extremely based

Looking at the stars and moon and taking them in for a moment and trying to realize that they actually exist, puts my life into perspective and I feel much better about whatever small problems I have.

The more I'm forced into the real world, the more I realise how lazy, slow and inefficient I am. I think intuitively, but my intuition is always wrong, so I need time to make countless mini self-corrections. Others seem able to churn out work in one sitting that not only flows logically but includes information I'd need time to really reflect and experiment with to reach. How can they know so quickly? I'm a fraud who is barely keeping up.

do you have autism

Thanks. I feel the same way.

Why?

Cut up my legs a while back when I secluded myself from most of my friends, still haven't told anyone, I have to wear long socks or pants everyday, still not sure how I feel about it....

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Which country?

It seems like typical autism traits you described.

Bongistan

Mmmmmmmmgh

I've been reading Moby Dick and I am enthralled. At the moment, there is nothing I want more than to board a ship with nothing but the clothes on my back and begin an adventure while whale hunting. The thrill, the risk, the adventure! But whale hunting is illegal because whales are endangered.
So I really want to desperately save the whales and bring their population up. Not because I am a whale loving hippie, but because I want to kill whales and it is difficult to kill whales when there are no whales to kill.
There are no good charities for this specific cause.

I was standing by the street the other day smoking and an old lady castigated me for it. "What are we going to do with you? Quit before you have a stroke!"

I told her to suck a big black dick. It was the most liberated moment of my life.

infinity is but an eye cyclopic
and it's looking at you

My sleep pattern is fucked after night shift, I sleep my days away. It's so depressing, doing nothing on my days off because I sleep till 2 and stay up all night. I'm angry at myself

You know that feeling of uneasiness you have when you're tired and just want to go home and rest?

Well I have that now, except that I'm already at home.

So I'll probably just kill myself soon.

My wife had one of her high school friends over tonight. Her friend kept talking about how her daughter wanted to be an author, she's only 14 but has already written a full novel and is working on the second. Her mom got her into a special writing program and she's going to do so well, she's already met with other young professional female YA writers and feels like she's going to fit right in.

I was horrified to hear this, what the fuck does a 14 year old have to say? I'm much older and don't feel like I've experienced enough to have any real perspective. Also the idea that you would want to be a writer rather than needing to be one also disturbed me. I hope the girl fails before the status of being a writer goes to her head

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Has she been published?
>I hope the girl fails
Jesus man. I appreciate the honesty though

My blade aunkndeepninto the ass of existance 14 years old and I woke up screaming for myom talking about the pain in mynjaw, my cheeksz spread open like a oven. Out in in out the breath of my ass freq was over 140 hz and was far away from the average middle schoolers dick 10 inches or so late my man Chris walked into a 7 11 and held up a kid at gunpoint. I heard he needed money for heroin. I used to be straight edge but I took some Molly at a basshunter cover show in winnapeg. Tiem to fuck ! I screamed high as fuck pissing black shit into the toilet. When I walk into a doctor's office all I get is "wow you really are a mystery" and a bill for over a thousand dollars i feel like a fuck head for not raping osama pre 911 fuck that oil money bitch for trying America like that cuck ass nip

I told the world, one day I would pay it back
Say it on tape, and lay it, record it, so that one day I could play it back
But I don’t even know if I believe it when I’m saying that
Doubts starting to creep in, every day it's just so gray and black

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Everyone is younger, smarter, funnier, and more accomplished than me and I hate it. I spend most of my time atrophying in front of my computer and half-reading books on lofty philosophical topics that I'll never be able to grasp.

At what point does gambling become a problem? My dad doesn't have any other hobbies besides going to the local casino. He's there almost every weekend. It kinda pisses me off that it's literally the only thing he does on his down time. Doesn't want to go camping, doesn't want to go fishing, or any of that other boomer dad stuff. I mean I get that it's his life and it's his money, but fuck, it's such a sad way to spend your life. Most recently my mom convinced him to go on a vacation with her, she books the hotel and then my dad bitches at her because he realized too late that the date they both agreed on was the same day as a car raffle at a casino and he wanted her to change the hotel booking date so he could go and try to win a car on that day instead.

i wounder which novel of Hemingway should i read first

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