/lit/ - Literature

>“A special form of misery had begun to oppress him of late. There was nothing poignant, nothing acute about it; but there was a feeling of permanence, of eternity about it; it brought a foretaste of hopeless years of this cold leaden misery, a foretaste of an eternity "on a square yard of space.”

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=eF92-uSiVZQ

>>19778571
welcome, enjoy your stay

>>19178439
>come home to my beautiful wife while she's reading Augustine (a recent habit of hers)
>she greets me with: "Hi brother!"

>>17135293
What makes you think there will be an afterwards?

>spent my twenties living a cowardly, solitary, pathetic existence

Any books for this feel?

>lost faith in society
>lost faith in the future
>lost faith in myself

Any novels focusing on this issue?

I am as atheistic now as I have ever been. I don't believe there is anything beyond the material. I believe our own souls are nothing more than an illusion. I believe everything is determined by matter.

And I fucking hate it. I'm empty and I can't feel anything. I yearn for spiritual fulfillment.
Please give me the G*D-pill.

Yup. I don't know what to think or believe about anything anymore. Everything is corrupted to the core. It's all about identity politics, both left and right. I don't even use Twitter. Here where I live, everyone is literally like this. I can't have an honest conversation with them without experiencing some sort of drama about race, class and/or gender issues. My all time crush told me the other day that it you aren't sexually attracted to trans people, you're transphobic. Save me from this nightmare, bros...

At the store I work at I like to go to our meagre book section if I can find a minute to slack off. It’s mostly garbage, supermarket novels and children’s books, but I still like to flip through one of them if it seems a bit interesting. Today, after we had closed and I was going through the store to tidy up where I could, I came upon our book section and picked up a colourful children’s book called ‘The Planets.’ It was a colouring book with stickers included that gave facts about our Solar system. I only leafed through it, and so can only paraphrase a part of the section on Earth that simply fascinated me. It talked about the future of humanity, it imagined that Humans might one day explore far into space, might combine with robots to create a new species of Cyberhumans. The book encouraged the child reading to imagine what the descendants of these Cyberhumans might do, what they might look like, and gave them a picture to colour in and a sticker of colourful spacemen to help them. I’m still wondering why reading this has touched me so profoundly, when did I lose the ability to imagine a Cyberhuman world, when did I become more interested in reading books about the lives of sad people then reading a story about the Cyberhumans? What happened to me?

Actress studying fashion, grew up in a wealthy house and went to really good schools and was loved by my parents who paid my way through school/life. Books about why life is full of suffering?

recommendations of decently written novels that deal with the experiences of virgin men in their 20s who deal with erectile dysfunction and the shame of it all?

I have come to a singular, unprovable, but unshakeable conviction about existence:
Our material reality is the immaterial potentiality of what would appear to us to be an immaterial actuality.

I lived for years as an atheist, I didn't knew it, but the hedonistic lifestyle along with the immoral mindset made me a nihilist. I am weak. I suffer everyday and things go from bad to worst. I think I need God. The problem is that I am too influenced from the Nietzscheian perspective. What do /lit/? Please help me, I'm in the edge.