/lit/ - Literature

>>11677586
You don't. You're on the way to becoming that member of the family who everyone dreads speaking with at get-togethers because he invariable devolves all dissenting opinions into heady drivel that nobody in the room truly understands, you included, or cares about besides you.
You know who I'm talking about: we all have one--that sad middle aged uncle who brings all conversations back to his crazy ideas of how the government just wants you to think that grandma's pumpkin pie was so much better last year, or that cousin who smells like cat piss and body odor and always comes around with more feminist theory than anybody can palate in an evening of light celebration.
Best advice is to just keep the opinions shelved and talk about some bullshit you don't care about such as the local sports team losing for the 9th game in a row or something

>our protagonist was dining on spaghetti so fine it spilled all over the rough draft and I had to rewrite this allusion

After a failed suicide attempt I came to the conclusion that the only thing that makes me happy is an autistic devotion to self-improvement in every form. I feel like shit unless I go to bed at night knowing that I made myself better that day. It's probably not healthy, mentally, but it gets me to run about 5 miles a day, eat healthily, and read maybe 50 pages a day. It lead me to pick the most difficult major I could find at the most difficult school I could get into to prove to myself that I could do it, because I do like it but if I went for another, simpler interest, I'd feel like a little bitch.
I apologize for the blogpost but the point is that running is great, endorphins fight depression, and the confidence boost from seeing yourself get better and physically become more attractive is the shit.

I have an essay and I'm really stuck for ideas, I want to make it entertaining to read aswell but all i can think about is the boring stuff like having a family etc