/lit/ - Literature

>When the two of us got back to James’s house, I was still seething with rage. I didn’t understand why James wasn’t angry like me. The sight that we just witnessed was horrible to watch. To see another male be successful with females is torture for males like us who have no success with females. I was so angry that I told James of all of the acts of revenge I wanted to exact on those popular boys. I told him my desire to flay them alive, to strip the skins off their flesh and make them scream in agony as punishment for living a better life than me. James became deeply disturbed by my anger. I wished that he wasn’t disturbed. I wished he could be a friend that felt the same way about the world that I did. But he wasn’t that kind of person. He was a weakling.
>Once I had calmed down, the two of us had a long conversation in his room, and I ended up crying
in front of him as I explained how hopeless I felt about life.

in this thread: bawling children who are future supreme gentlemen