/lit/ - Literature

>>20655696

>>19049500
Why would you do that. the only way to undo it is trips+

It's over.

>>16595000
What are some books / videos ways of quitting porn. I'm tired of this vicious cycle of spending hours finding the right videos with 40+ tabs, digusting fetishes, hentai, doujins, it's so time consuming with no reward and I just edge, edge and edge and get into my degenerate shit... I edged for 5 hours one night instead of doing an easy assessment for hardware class.

I'm fucking tired and I hate this about my self.
I'm fucking at my wits end /lit/

Is op's post a good start?

>>15810334
This montage is short but hurts.

>It's real
...bros, hold me

hi all, i’m very tired, but i need to pump out a 6-10 page short story. i can’t come up with anything to write about and i was hoping you guys could pitch some concepts, ty in advance lads.

Any other twenty-twos?

Is finding people boring to talk to more and more a sign of intellectual development?

Last night was torture. I dreamt of someone I barely remembered, dressed in a white suit. Like completely white except for their tie which was gold.
And they sat there in front of me like some sort of prophet, and I could feel a darkness radiating off me seeping into every crevice and battling their light.
I felt like a villain. And I’ve thought villainous things.
Because they’ve told the crowds of people I didn’t know, like a flock of sheep in front of a pastor, that they got divine inspiration and will pursue their life writing the world’s first, last and only true masterpiece. And I wish I was happy for them, but I felt like a locust that was about to get crushed. Like I was the only sheep with dark, ugly, oppressive wool.
Like a parasite that was leeching off of something that shouldn’t be interfered with. Like I should just “accept my destiny”, as if my destiny was to be a subject in a lesser world, but inevitably couldn’t, for I represented the evil that would, by someone else’s words, “try to stop this good from coming into fruition”. Like the choice was made for me.
The only thing I felt on my own was the crushing sadness that whatever I write before or after that, it won’t have any more or anywhere near value to The Masterpiece. But every other word felt like it was shoved into my mouth like venom for me to spew.

When I woke up, I started questioning my life. Was this really what I should be doing? Do I have desires that will crush my dreams and leave nothing but dust?
Another thing to be afraid of, anons. Questioning something that I grew to love as an objective, ineradicable part of life.
And seeing something that I already loved so dearly as just an endeavour to write something that tops every single fate and person, and not something that gives me inner peace and the only true way to correctly articulate my true feelings.

I remember I was supposed to read Siddhartha when I was 14 on literature class.
It seems our school was liberal or something, because we never had to read actual Spanish literature (I'm from Spain btw).

Honestly, it's a shitty book, and even shittier for a 14 year old kid. My grandma read it and thought "who the fuck as a teacher would make a 14 year old read this shit"

do you live in a mansion

how much free space do you have exactly

no. buy books you're interested in, or topics you're interested in. having a fuckhuge pile of heavy books that are mostly about things you don't care about but have because they are "important" is dumb.

fpbp and /thread

>>12503368
>all those years I wasted wagecucking
why didn't anyone stop me?

Solar flares are BUILT-IN TELEOLOGICAL FAILSAFES for RUNAWAY TECHNOLOGICAL AUTOMATIZATION

In other words, REALITY IS SELF-CORRECTING, JUST LIKE OBESITY, ADDICTION, HATRED, DEPRAVITY, EVIL ARE ALWAYS SELF-CORRECTING

EVEN BLACK HOLES DISINTEGRATE

ZUMMI WAS RIGHT ABOUT EVERYTHING: we haven't gotten off this rock because we haven't made the necessary spiritual advancements necessary for the governance of an interstellar civilization

THE VULGAR LOGOS, AND THE CLAUSTROPHOBIA OF THE SAME, IS SELF-INFLICED


NO PESSIMIST HAS EVER REFUTED BIRDSONG

EVERYTHING IS GOING TO BE OKAY

I LOVE YOU ALL

The Parmenidean founding gesture echoes the Buddhist mantra of "this is not me, this is not my Self": thought as the self-saying of thought marks/defines the boundary of what is not encapsulated in this saying, just as my disidentification with "what is not my Self" must /performatively/ identify that which is not reducible to this movement: as with Descartes, the cogito can negate the entire universe, except for its power to negate. Only the negative is self-grounded.

This is the biggest blackpill in all of Buddhism: suffering is always a by-product of the repression of death, or more precisely, of the death that is the destiny of all impermanent things.

Pain is impossible to avoid, but suffering - as the narrativization/subjectivization of pain - is not. That means you /can/ liberate yourself from the less-than-ideal conditions that rule your life, but only if you have the strength to liberate yourself from the latter, or rather, what they say about the latter, and the hope of what you can still do with it.

Hegelian Spirit, in other words, has to evolve beyond even its status as the perpetual dialectical evolution of such a thing as Spirit: Spirit is just what our ontological successor looks like from the shore, the way the Europeans' sails must have keened in the sun. Parmenides, by exorcising non-being to found Western philosophy, builds the foundation of the Logos on the power of saying: in other words, thought can't think unthought because the unthought is always-already abolished by its enunciation: thought - saying, language, cognition - is being. To say is to create: modernity becomes the exploration of erogenous zones of time, unable to surpass the External limit of Change that does not itself change, we've resigned ourselves to self-swallowing ourobouric miserabilism: we've seen what we are, we just can't take that post-human step. Every creature is the egg of the next in time, Nietzsche knew our biggest conceit was believing our cells absolved us from their own destiny. I see it now bros. The universe is a holy suicide. Everything is the self-justification of circles. Death and love are the non-time of the now. I see it now. The world is an atom in one of your own cells, and plasma is proof of angels.

>tfw you realize there will never be a Great American Novel in your lifetime

>control-F "want to die" looking for "I want to die" poster who typically appears in these threads
>find 4 posts with that phrase

This place really is a sensitive /r9k/ lads