/lit/ - Literature

>>18900424
I asked the green critter
what must I for Salvation
sake, to justify life's long heartbreak?
He answered thusly:
Poo Poo, Pee Pee.

A cool raindrop slid down
his soft, moss skin and I grasped
his black collar and tore him close.
And he whispered again:
Poo Poo, Pee Pee.

I swelled and twisted and leaked
and I shivered, having lost my way,
and he said, knowingly:
"Pity you should have,
to come to this log,
not known it true,
to seek not the truth of the Frog."

An old man watched from a gate,
his beard long and his coat grey,
jotted down quickly in a book and walked quicker away. Followed him, I, up the road once tread, and found myself arrived at a a battered, brown shed.

It was foolish of me to tread onto the bog,
a slick path becomes slicker onwards.
Spent there, I, the night in that shed, on a damp, red quilt and two wooden chairs.
I too jotted a note, to mark those words of that Frog, to never step foot again down the path of the bog.

>>18900424
I asked the green critter
what must I for Salvation
sake, to justify life's long heartbreak?
He answered thusly:
Poo Poo, Pee Pee.

A cool raindrop slid down
his soft, moss skin and I grasped
his collar and tore him close.
And he whispered again:
Poo Poo, Pee Pee.

I swelled and twisted and leaked
and I shivered, having lost my way,
and he said, knowingly:
"Pity you should have to come to this log, not known it true,
to not search of
and not speak to,
for the truth of the Frog."

An old man watched from a gate,
his beard long and his coat grey,
jotted down quickly in a book and walked quicker away. Followed him, I, up the road once tread, and found myself arrived at a a cave of a shed.

It was foolish of me to tread onto the bog,
a slick path becomes slicker onwards.
Spent there, I, the night in that shed, on
damp, red quilt and two wooden chairs.
I too jotted a note, to mark those words
of that Frog, to never step foot again
down the path of that bog.

What do you read during rainy days?

>I don't hate women, nor do I feel entitled to their attention or affection. I am neither an incel nor a virgin.
>I don't think that I'm better than everybody else, just different.
>I'm not angry or vengeful at all, just a little confused.
I'm gradually coming to the realization that I'm probably going to be alone forever. I will probably never find "love". I will probably never have close friends. There is something fundamentally "wrong" with me that causes me to be repellent to other human beings (I'm not ugly, I'm not disfigured, I'm not a manlet, I don't have bad hygiene, I'm not a leeching bum, I don't say insane things in public)- there's just something about me that people dislike. This has been demonstrated to me all throughout my life. I'm always the person to be excluded, I'm always the person to bear the brunt of jokes, I'm always the fall guy. It's been like this since I was a child. Boohoo, poor me. I don't really care anymore and I'm long past losing sleep over this. I'm not depressed or about to lay down and rot, I just want to make a plan for the next couple decades of my life.

What I want to eventually come to know is: now what? The most common reason for people to live is because of their relationships with other people (wife, kids, family, friends). What does a life without any of these look like? Do I lean in to trying to find (a) God even though I'm thoroughly atheist? Do I go to the other side of the world and hope things are better there? Does anybody know any books that might equip me to navigate this world alone?