/lit/ - Literature

The last two chapters of The Great Ordeal were a fucking fever dream.
Is TUC even weirder?

Guys I think I just had an epiphany. I've always been lacking in colour and variety in my speaking and I'm socially autistic so I have no idea what to even say most of the time.
For example, a person complemented my bag today and I just said "thanks" and walked away and holy fuck even remembering it is making me cringe but I had no idea what else to say and I still don't.
HOWEVER, I figured out what the problem is which is my lack of things to say, sort of like not knowing the name for a certain object.
THEREFORE, all I need to do is basically read and watch everyday dialogue and learn what people say. I know normal people just "get it with practice" but I'm likely well into the spectrum so I can't exactly just do it with feeling.

Essentially, what I want is literature that is filled with real/realistic everyday dialogue.

Books that talk about this specific topic is fine too but I've found that "how to win friends" type of books are literally the epitome of "just do it lol" mentality which really doesn't help. I don't need motivation I need literal words and phrases.

I can see how I die. I'm alone. All of my ghosts are there, haunting me.

I am without anything that I love, or have loved. The things that I love are only distant memories, or have never existed.

My ghosts paralyze me with fear. They attack me at my core, and no matter how much I struggle, I cannot stop them.

They torture me endlessly. They poison me, so that I feel sick when I eat, and I feel sick when I don't. They grossly disfigure my body with wicked proportions. They give me cavities, facial scars, and grotesque pimples, so that no one will smile at me, or find me attractive. They sear my flesh with scars of shame and indignity.

They take all that I love and care about, and they smash it in to pieces in front of me. Nothing is sacred. Nothing is off limits. There is nothing I can do to make them stop.

They fill my head with visions. They show me that justice does not exist. They show me every mistake that I have ever made, and I am made to relive each one, over, and over again. They make it explicitly clear; I will never escape my mistakes, and I will never be forgiven for them.

The ghosts show me how beautiful life can be. How fair and prosperous is should be. I'm shown what it is like to be whole, happy, and proud. Then they show me what my life is, has been, and always will be; broken, filled to the brim with sadness, depression, and guilt.

They show me the future, what life will be like after I'm gone. They show me that all of my struggling will be in vain. That everything I ever did was pointless and futile. How stupid I am for believing that I could have made a difference to anything. They show me everything, again and again, and no matter how much I shake and recoil in true, deep, disparity, their assault never ceases.

They tie my sins into a noose around my neck. They hang each one of my regrets on my neck like a medal, to weigh me down. I'm told this is the end, and I know it. I scream, writhe, and cry. Then I am hung. Life fades away.

>>7497314
Add General and Fiction under genres. Why did the cover art come out so desaturated?