i dare you to post an entry from your diary. unedited.
you first, voyeuristic cunt. this isn't a one way thing
>i dare you to anonymously do something with zero repercussions!
>>23543531Going out drinking w/ qt coworker again tomorrow. A few weeks ago I got blackout drunk and smashed my face into the pavement in front of her apartment. My face is mostly healed up now. There will be a scar on my nose. I had to get stiches. She was worried I died, at the time. I'm glad I didn't knock my teeth out. I got blood on the stairs to her room and I got blood on her couch. She has a bf. We are going to dinner and drinks tomorrow with some of her friends. Her bf won't be there. She is driving me. She said she wants me to get drunk. She said it's fun when I'm drunk. Her friends were there when I got blackout drunk a few weeks ago. They must think I am a stupid fuck. I am going to have to face them tomorrow with my scarred face. What am I getting myself into? Why did she come to my apartment to smoke weed and watch a movie? Surely, she didn't expect me to make a move. She has a bf of like 3 years. We are just friendly coworkers, surely. My dick barely works anyway. Man, what the fuck am I getting myself into. She said her friend K-- is coming tomorrow. She was at the party where I got blackout. I don't remember her. I reckon she is trying to set me up with K--, which is something I expected to happened eventually, and one of the reasons I don't mind just being qt-coworkers friend. She has lots of friends--I don't. She can hook me up. I have a bad habit of over-indulgence. I haven't learned my lesson yet, and don't reckon I ever will. I love getting fucked up. I feel happy. I am a happy, sentimental, laughing drunk. I need to fix my dick. I had a dream last night where qt-coworker was in my bed masturbating, she started to masturbate me too, but I couldn't get hard.
>>23543531Random paragraph towards beginning of diary I wrote age 19. Prepare for an overdose of cringe:>The pain of a prison would be more bearable to this - then, I would not have the moral uncertainty that I have now. Here, I have a confusing tangle of pains and pleasure pulling me in different directions: I have, first, an insuperable feeling of alienation from everyone else; the old props of my self-esteem, which functioned well in relative isolation, have been swept away into a strange, subverted world; I have the moral uncertainty of the choices that I need to make to determine the character of my study here (is the lonely, pure, Wittgensteinian/Weiningerian, self-motivated genius truly that lonely, so unloved in his lifetime? -- is it possible, or a fantasy?). But all of this is perhaps enwrapped in a fog of lack of information and misinformation. How far are the people who spend their nights clubbing, drinking and drug-taking academically successful in the college? What is the chance that I will be academically successful in any meaningful sense at all, should I pursue it? Nietzsche has his answers; Stoicism has its answers; Christianity and Kierkegaard have their answers, but as much as I’m inclined to listen to all of them, they have not quite dealt with the same context as I am in. It should be noted that the situation is not one of temptation. Although I have something of an aversion to the perceived sterility, monotony and boredom that a purely academic stay here would require, I also know that the hedonistic, aesthetic alternative would only be just as painful, if not ultimately more so. The temptation/resistance dynamic does not work here, but two others might, and this is the real question: life/death; fear/courage, pusillanimity/magnanimity. Stated like that, I know my answer. God, please give me the strength to overcome this suffering and give me the courage to die well.
>>23543567todays:>"finally dreamed about a girl other than the one i've been thinking of. she wasn't any real girl but it was nice. i had some difficulty exchanging numbers with her for reasons relating to dream logic. woke at 1100. thought i was supposed to be at grandmas at 1300 but was actually already late when i woke up. mom was at the pride parade. picked up sandwiches and delivered lunch with my inhertied friends. they are liberal elites and perfect specimens of the kind of people i'd least expect to get along with but even so i'm terribly fond of them. they're just about the only people who recognize the titles i mention now that grandpas dead and grandmas losing it. they agreed with me that pierre wasn't worth reading. they are reading madam bovary in the original french. after we had a lot of sandwiches left over so i found some homeless people to give them to. they were all very appriciative. tried some bookstores looking for twain's "hellfire hotchkiss" and a collection of anna seward's poems. found neither but was interested to hear the man selling books laid out on the sidewalk boasting to a friend of having a 300 pound deadlift. when i got home i worked out just exactly how it is i should have lived my life. i should have dated that girl, even if only for her to break up with me, i should have focused even less on my schoolwork but instead on my own self teaching as that is how i learn best, never even considered going into college and instead worked to be a park ranger or, even better, gone into search and rescue. that would have been a job i could be proud of and would have given me time and material for writing. it would have made use of my love of outdoorsmanship and not interfered with my loves for reading and weightlifting. it would sated my quiet and persistant desperation for some kind of glory. these days i often think of there being another life but can't make myself even vaguely believe in it. i wish that when we died we'd be born again into a second world nearly the same as this one with maybe a changed geographical layout and made to live all over again in the same body or one near enough to it and for us all to have to keep at it again and again in life after life and world after world until we worked out the right way to treat ourselves and eachother. still solid in my conviction that death is the final and absolute end of experience and thought. the chicken is still lethargic and sickly but looked a little better when the evening cooled things down."
>>23543575this rebuke would be a little more biting if you had posted an entry.
>dear diary, today OP was a faggot
>>23543531I wrote it in codeI’m slow at reading it and I’m too lazy to read a bunch and translate So no, I don’t think I will
>>23544105Was just stating the obvious. Over the years I have told /lit/ most everything about myself, especially back when we had decent write threads and it is one of the few reasons I still come back here; /lit/ knows me better than any single person even if no one on /lit/ knows me. No, I do not post in /wwoym/, I did back in its early days when it was a write thread.
>>23544160>still hasn't posted an entryNO BALLS
>>23543531I haven’t kept a diary since I was in high school The whole thing read like Elliot Rodger before Elliot Rodger and was littered with quotes from bands like Black Flag and Slayer
>>23543531i deleted it for legal reasons a few months ago and haven't started an new one since.
>>23543531
>>23543582>>23543645I feel like you're deeply convinced of this already, so I should probably keep my silence: but nevertheless, you seem like an interesting, aesthetically pleasing, soul. I almost want to write in your tone, immediately qualifying the word soul with—'which, though warm to describe, does not seem to exist'.
Alright but I don’t expect any of you hylics to get it. >May 5>Eva-Sophia>Man must reject the false, earthly Eve that the demiurge created in imitation of the true Eve. He must journey down to the underworld (the imminent/haecettic) world like Orpheus. Only then does the True Heaven open up before him. The greek poets, who knew the muses, came very close to this truth.. that there is a hidden feminine which is our actual counterpart.>See Dee’s Daughter of Fortitude Speech
>>23544779thanks, though you are replying to two people.
>>23544991oh shit hahahaa
