/lit/ - Literature

>>14207488
I never liked anything that I ever took up as a hobby during my childhood. Sure, I did it, and got super good and focused into it but I only enjoyed the notion of getting better at something and rising above others until I hit a brick wall and was faced with the task of actually putting in my all. Now, I come to the realization that I will never, ever put an impact onto the world, maybe affect individuals as everyone in this world does but never a group or huge selection or leave some type of temporary legacy. I'll just do what I can, read what I like, write what I want, and write it just to have it being written because I want to. There is no reason for me to live in delusions of possible grandeur, we all know are place and yea, sure, all hope can't be lost so early but their was truly no hope to begin with. Everyone deep down knows what their made to be and I was simply made to be, and do nothing of significance. Yes, this is another blog post, yes I will probably write poems and books that will be nothing other than 'my diary desu' variants. So what, who the fuck cares. If I was so emotionally inclined I'd just devote my life to philosophy but because I am how I am I remain stuck with a infinite loop of loving and hating, two things that are pointless and time consuming. So be it, so I am, I'll live doing what I want even though what I want is only a singular thing that I mildly lean towards, that I just simply gravitate towards.

ty for reading my attempt at a (fake) deep blog post. Love you all.

>>12768872
(1/2)
Hi, its funny how this is totally unexpected but expected. I've had terrible issues sleeping,dealing with demons, and mimicking a mental illness that I think in actuality my thirst for attention and a subliminal level has caught up with me and I simply could not take it anymore. My legs are all scared up if you'd take a look, I was very very alone and tired of everything I took too much sincerely and it affected me. The way I had to live covering up all emotional baggage and carrying mounds of something that was up to my throat, I had to feel something I had to find a way to strain the rag so I picked up the razors in the kitchen wardrobe and tested my self, I assume someone tempted with suicide has to drown out the pain some how and I've had too much debating on whether or not im fake depressed, im faking my insomnia, im faking my night terrors and I don't believe I deserve an ounce of pity for being a terrible person. I'm still unsure whether or not im who I really say I am, anyways it was inevitable. Sometimes strolling down the streets as you walk by among society you can take in certain young faces,my peers, and see their ambitions, insecurities but most of all their future how would they look 10yr,20yr on their death bed, but form me I could not see my self in such a case I could not look ahead it just seemed to be, not there. And although I had a stonecold personality and was a terrible person; I could still recognize the beauty of every which person and the organic fragile serenity of life, everyone of you is beautiful and out of the small group of things I'm proud of, its noticing that that really makes me smile. I felt totally isolated as if every conversation I had was disconnected, disfigured, I'm a great listener so I guess thats how I made it around: a sin and a blessing I can stare into someone's eyes reach deep into their motives,personality, and draped up soul and truly communicate without words, many took notice of this and just

>>12682592
The sun goes down
the sky goes up
the streets dry up by noon
beaming skies;they sweat me up
dawn with the papermache sun
as if I ever looked enough to know
the constant sound of the busy streets
pass me a malboro
the constant sound of the dreaded life
never ever

Post your book ideas and how far you've gotten
I'll go first

I have a semi biography about myself(In search of lost time inspired) 5k words in
And a
Sci-fi noir novel about a socialist U.S. monitoring every movement and a wave a Journalist come through to rake up the muck.
(Boring I know) 10 k words in