/lit/ - Literature

This isn't anything. I'm sitting here on a Thursday night (which isn't much of a night at all, really) and thinking aimlessly about the troubling cliches that my new psychologist seems prone to using. Thursday is not much of a day either, really, which makes it perfect for seeing a shrink. “Looking through a glass darkly” is his personal favorite, it seems. I read a book today that used the word bromide to describe a statement like that. The author of this book is a personal favorite of mine but he was also prolix and in denial about it. I actually read his stuff because he had depression, as well, and was one of the few authors who decided to take a direct approach to the condition in his writing, opting against the grain of clever artifice and device that the classics employed, of which I'm sure he (i.e. the author) hoped to join the ilk of. Ironically, he speaks in this book I'm reading about how our modern age is all about the organization and classification of the accomplishments of the past, as there is no new ground to break, but he also claims to be a postmodernist. Ironically also, he hung himself from the eaves of his roof. Given that I respect the man, this makes it confusing for me to decide where I stand on both issues. With the latter, I suppose that I believe the reason the classics decided not to talk too candidly about depression is because, well, it makes you fucking depressed. Distraction (which is, incidentally, the thesis of another of this unnamed author's works) is good for us whether we respect it or not. Please remember, this isn't anything. I suppose I'm trying to experience new things, do some soul-searching.. That all sounds cliché, I know, but sometimes there are societal tropes you just can't avoid, eye-rolling platitudes that unfortunately happen to shape us as human beings. So this is one of them. I've always played around with the idea of writing but for obvious reasons it was always hard to begin. Inspired obliquely by romantic advice from my psychologist, I've decided to come clean instead, with no conceit, and just write whatever's in my head. Be myself, so to speak. I've just winced. One of the hardest parts of self-improvement is realizing you were always the stupid, ignorant ass that you identified in others to make yourself feel better. But the hardest part, by far, is the indescribable pain in your chest. I was recently dumped, and strangely enough, the pain I feel from that emerges from the stomach. Or rather, it is felt in the stomach, because it is similar to having a gaping, sucking wound there that is constantly chaffed by the wind. The way to a man's heart is through his stomach? Huh.

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oh, it's this thread again

you will love the way he thinks and love his maturity, you will fall for his charisma and it will make you feel above your classmates, by liking an older man and not someone your age you will feel that you yourself are becoming a mature person, then time will pass, you will either end up taking the first step, fucking him and and either he will break up with you because he needs to be with someone who is actually mature and independent, a WOMAN not a female on /lit/ not a girl, either you will break up with him and find a cute guy your age who can offer a stable relationship OR you will forget about this pathetic and oh so old crush story. will move on, have kids and forget about it and call yourself a naive idiot and maybe write a fanfic or erotic story based on this. Then you'll die, but that's another story.