/lit/ - Literature

Am I ruining my life by not going to college?

I'm 22 and when seeing these threads I feel as if my life is already over.

>>6621224

>>6618608
>>everything becomes a chore

>tfw running out of time
>soon humanity will be forced to choose between Caesarism and revolution

Will we choose right this time, /lit/?

>spend an hour and a half writing
>it's pure shit
>realize that you will never have the talent to create anything of worth.

how do you cope with this /lit/?

Anyone have a "comfort book" that provides them comfort in difficult times?

For me, Jane Eyre.

>'You think Anna Karenina is sad?'
>'Well yeah, Levin's brother and Anna's fall from grace.'
>'It's shit anon.'
>'Have you read it.'
>'Saw the film.'

Why /lit/, why do people do this

>tfw you are an impostor
>tfw you are not worthy to the muse of philosophy, because of your inferior nature
>tfw you are able to see the beauty of philosophy only because she is devoid of her deserved heirs
>tfw the best natures truly fitted to philosophy are currently being CEOs, engineers and, sometimes, even NEETs.
>tfw i'll be making things even worse if I insist on this pursuit.
>tfw i have to become a shoemaker if i want to be just.

I am so sorry, Socrates.

Read more than four books.

How do I appreciate poetry, /lit/?

I've read through Wilde, a little bit of Keats and Yeats, as well as several others, but there's generally nothing in it that has held me.
It seems, to me, that a lot of poetry is just limiting yourself to arbitrary restrictions and guidelines.

Here's a poem that I did enjoy.

-----------

The arrest of Oscar Wilde at the Cadogan Hotel (1937)
John Betjeman

He sipped at a weak hock and seltzer
As he gazed at the London skies
Through the Nottingham lace of the curtains
Or was it his bees-winged eyes?

To the right and before him Pont Street
Did tower in her new built red,
As hard as the morning gaslight
That shone on his unmade bed,

“I want some more hock in my seltzer,
And Robbie, please give me your hand —
Is this the end or beginning?
How can I understand?

“So you’ve brought me the latest Yellow Book:
And Buchan has got in it now:
Approval of what is approved of
Is as false as a well-kept vow.

“More hock, Robbie — where is the seltzer?
Dear boy, pull again at the bell!
They are all little better than cretins,
Though this is the Cadogan Hotel.

“One astrakhan coat is at Willis’s —
Another one’s at the Savoy:
Do fetch my morocco portmanteau,
And bring them on later, dear boy.”

A thump, and a murmur of voices —
(”Oh why must they make such a din?”)
As the door of the bedroom swung open
And TWO PLAIN CLOTHES POLICEMEN came in:

“Mr. Woilde, we ‘ave come for tew take yew
Where felons and criminals dwell:
We must ask yew tew leave with us quoietly
For this is the Cadogan Hotel.”

He rose, and he put down The Yellow Book.
He staggered — and, terrible-eyed,
He brushed past the plants on the staircase
And was helped to a hansom outside.

>tfw the pretentious ivory tower art critics don't consider shitposting to be a valid artform
I'm being robbed my rightful title of Rothko incarnated

my poetry didn't get in ;_;

You will never be an post-modern white millennial metrosexual sophisticate like the rest of int ;_;

>Lowest IQ in this thread

Why should I continue living when I am forever destined for mediocrity, blinded by biology and circumstance?

If I were 20 points lower I would find complacency in my inability, but being just above that precipice, being able to see both those above and below, and being incompatible with either, I can't help but feel contempt for my impotence, and thus myself.

>You will never be a postmodern white millennial metrosexual sophisticate like the rest of /lit/