Woe Is Me - Part 2

Future

Repetition seems to be a recurring event on this diary of mine, I say the same thing over and over again, always the same problems, always the same person, I feel right now that I have become static as an individual. Unable to evolve past of this shallow problems, in a cycle of mediocrity were I stumble back at this cesspool of despair seconds before of being able to achieve a breakthrough, so close, and yet so far to learning how to do it the right way. I think I am doing things wrong, or not doing the right things at all, I wish for a better understanding of myself, but as I try to reach deeper into the full person that I am, I shy away, Like being burned by hot coals, I just want to live in pure mediocrity, working on the superficial stuff without regards to agency

What am I doing? I will never be a writer if I continue to let those problems of mine drag me down, I should write just like I walk my bike, To force an impulse and to continue to writing until the end of my days as I drop masterpiece after masterpiece, that is what I want, but I feel like I am running after success and titles, I feel like this desire of being a writer is not where it should be in my heart, to write out of passion, to write not because you want money but because you want to write. But I don't know how to do it though, I never had anything that was ever passionate about, even drawing didn't elicit any big response out of me, and isn't that just sad? How little I have in my life that truly matters? Nothing to move me forward, nothing to strive, to fight for, I feel so numb over everything that the only reason I latched into writing was because I wanted to escape having to do school work without that heavy feeling of guilt, like, I know that I want an work that will not kill me on the inside, but I feel that with my current attitude, I will end up not being happy as a writer as well, and I don't want that.

So, I like really to read, if anything ever came closer to being a passion for me, that thing was reading, books, web novels and webcomics, I love reading, but I also have a huge superiority complex and I am a perfectionist (people should stopping putting perfectionist on their resumes, it is a flaw worse than being rude to your coworkers)

So, I think because I have read a lot of books in this tiny life of mine I am able to do better than any author thanks to my teenage hubris, and just like Icarus flying too close to the sun, I smack face down into the concrete every time I try to write any piece of fiction, but you see, this is actually could, I should smack my face down as much possible, cause for each failed attempt, I will flow higher the next time, but since I am so fucking afraid of pain, I don't even try, and, Isn't that just the saddest? Like taking a cold bath, is just one minute agony for a whole bath of energy, okay, my metaphors are getting not good, so

I don't know, I will research how to write with more passion, One thing that I should work is also is learning how to get invested into things, I SHOULD SLOW DOWN THE RATE OF MY WORDS and think about things for a longer period of time, digest and re digest, the true path of a writer is to masticate plot like a cow does to grass.

Okay, so, write same thing but just by memory

Harnessing sexual energy to accomplish my goals

So, sexual energy, as of now, I am in a long ass bus ride, and I was fazing in and out of consciousness, letting myself be, tried reading a books, was not in the mind, also, I barely slept last night, so I had not the brain for that.

but, when I tell you that I found in my docs, a piece of fiction from a reddit community, and just started reading it, I knew it was porn. Remember when I clicked and a pretentious thought in my head at the time was "why do they write erotic fiction with all this fafafa, stop using big words, stop the complicating plots, I want to bust a nut,you will not make me get feelings for this character, so, show me him having his brains fucked, or go home, fucking loser" of course, I didn't read said piece of fiction, because I was much too horny to be reading and wanted something more involved. and by golly gosh, I eat my words today, it was hot as fuck, had a raging boner the whole time

and here is the thing, I am in a crowded bus, with lots of people, so... I can't just wip out my cock and stroke myself into oblivion, that would be too much for like.... everyone, they would kick me out of the bus.

so, could not do that, but I also didn't want to stop reading, I was getting the tingling in my chest, it felt so, exciting

I know there is a community of women out there of women who read smut, and like, I had read a lot of smut before, but I did it so I could pop one off, but this experience today... it felt like I was edging my mind

How does one writes my way into success

List of things I hate:

Hate for immigrants

Ignorant people in a high place of power

Actions taken with preconceptions as the cause

Hate against black and muslin people

Erasure of Asian people emotional side

Overwork culture

Rejection

Feeling pain, seeing those I love in pain

Giving out your hands before the deed is done and get taken advantage once that happened, but I don't know if this things really makes me furious, I feel nothing at all

Above all else, I hate me the most

I hate that you are a lazy piece of shit who has high dreams and no drive you strive to be a writer with your butt plopped on the couch with the TV on? The thing I hate the most are boastful idiots who talk sweet nothings about their dreams of grandeur, but by god, by golly god, how could this happen, how something so horrible such as this has become part of me? Today I realized a lot of my own flaws, I am beyond tired of having this numb feelings, I want strong emotions, I want the strongest, when I am sad I want to be sad enough to wail and ugly cry until even the next door neighbor can hear it, I am just so tired of all this feeling so very very childish, I know that adults don't truly grown, the effect of their experiences influences their works to the extreme, but I have an extreme bouts of jealousy of this very esteemed gentlemen, I know it is quite the suffocating proposition, but why don't you try to be like them, piece by piece, copy their styles, grown with their hardworking experience, I want to drain all the life of their works and let it brew heavily in my head, I need to stop being a child and I need to grown, I need maturity for the sake of my goals, I need a modicum of seriousness to live by.

How to be more cheerful, look at the sun, become blind

I had quite the falling out with a friend of mine, I might have qualms about it, but for what I can consider, it was totally their fault, I refuse any other explanation, the last time I did a project, no I refuse to make a prophecy like this, I swear to god,

I like quick transmigration novels, don't like the way it info dumps so often, but it is a fun premise, I don't think I want to write it anyway, it is kinda of cheap.

I want more than anything to become a writer, I want to find that inner peace, self assurance doesn't feel like enough some days, not like I do it often enough to matter, but I want to be praised more than anything. I want to be loved for my work, I don't know what to say, what to do

I must stop being whiny and start being a writer, I should write more than complain, that is for sure

A room can be quite safe, Allison room's should be of this condition, it had a soft bed, celebrities posters, a salt lamp, it could have been the coziest of room, if it wasn't for the dead body laying on the ground.

For that alone the room wasn't safe at all.

I am a writer

I am a writer

I am a writer

I am a writer

Eu sou um escritor

Eu sou um escritor

Eu sou um autor

Eu sou um autor

I am a writer, I am a writer

Eu sou um escritor, eu sou um escritor, eu sou um escritor, eu sou um escritor, eu sou um escritor, eu sou um escritor, eu sou um escritor, eu sou um escritor, eu sou um escritor, eu sou um escritor, eu sou um escritor, eu sou um escritor, eu sou um escritor, eu sou um escritor.


wow, wonder if all that did anything, I guess it had me throwing it all out in the universe, hoping the law of attraction would do the rest.

I am feeling like I am not writing enough

You know, I see that I have a lot to pick the slack from, but hear me out on this matter, you will not be able to write the things that are way overdue, no matter the scope of this project or anything, you just need to write and have faith that this is the way to go, I can't say you should never doubt yourself, because I know that distrust is part of human nature, and if you ever start distrusting that you really are a writer, then just remember about all the ideas you had that made you extremely excited, all those worlds you have in the back drawer of your mind but has no skill to properly bring them to reality, remember, that the way of craftsmanship like this, to write is to forge realities, to create is to get closer to the divine, for every word in the paper is a piece of you, and to build exciting worlds, great experiences and just over all goodness all around, I can only say that I have enjoyed myself during this quarantine, through half chopped dialogues and a lot of bubbling ideas, because I want to be a writer, I have all this great world building ideas but lack by a lot on the character craftsmanship

I want to write real people, I want to write characters that make me excited to where their journey will lead them, but all this time in this resort of my life has been in quarantine, I fear if I don't show quick results, I will be reprimanded more than I can handle, I want to be a writer, I have given everything up for this dream, so I will work to make it true, I will work on the best of my efforts to make each and every word meaningful and worth the time, I want to be a wordsmith, so

Lets work on that

I want to write interesting characters

And let that be the beginning of my writing journey


I have something to mull over


I am mulling over something, and in fact, I am mulling over it so hard that I think my brain is being grind into paste from all this mulling that I am doing, let me tell you what thoughts are occupying all the space on my mind

I am worried about school, TCC gives me major anxiety, let me tell you, the anxiety that I feel is so bad that I have a thousand and one ways to procrastinate doing the one thing that should be done, like, goodness gracious, I am looking for a way to stop worrying so much, but I can, I fear my tcc is going to be considered garbage, and everything else just fucking sucks.

okay, so, last year, when I decided to give up on school, I really wanted to do something productive out of my quarantine, and like, since I saw those hecking big numbers on all those patreon authors, I came to the realization that in fact, happiness would surely come if I became a writer.

tangent, let me tell you about my horoscope, I don't believe there is something mystical about them, no, but I believe there is things from it that you can use it to guide your life, and one things that I read, is " you have a lot of small knowledge in a lot of areas and strong opinions about topics you know little about, of you ever were to come across a professional in the area, you would be unable to maintain a conversation with them, because even though you jave a need to be the smartest person in the room, doesn't mean that you are, you are sweet, but rather stupid child" and I've come to the realization that yes, I am a rather sweet, but so very stupid child, I really want to be the smartest without putting in the effort, like a loser, a little loser from my part if I do say so myself.

let me tell you something rather scary, I am dumb, yes, it might not be scary for you, but when I realized that I was so fucking dumb, my world came crashing down.

I am a rather sweet, but stupid child...

I guess I am, I am not the smartest person in the room, I am too prideful and arrogant, and because of it, I get time and time again let down by myself when I fail to reach the high expectations I set for myself, with such lofty goals of 5k words a day, and that I would be making a thousand dollars by the end of the month. all very good goals for someone to have, of which I hardly work to accomplish them.

I have so many plates that I am juggling, you know, there is something unpleasant about my stories, I seem to be unable to keep them lighthearted, like, have you seem the ending you wrote for GBFS? like, bitch, it ends with the protagonist a fucking wreck, unable to see the person he ever loved in his life, the person who made him want to change, and like, ain't that like, the sweetest? If I am a father, I am a cruel and abusive dad for all this poor creatures I call my children, Straggler, Desistant, The gay dude. Biatch, I wonder how I plan to make it be in the spirit of all things I hold sacred in a work of art when my mind warps that shit in just pure unfiltered pain, the only spirit that I am raising are ghouls and all of the sorts of things.

I want to give up on this and go do something else, I really think that writing is a struggle, and whenever I feel like I am making a breakthrough, I always get pegged by this sense of disarray.


I have to get back into the habit of writing here

I am not a very productive guy, I live for the next pleasure, I live for the sake of doing my best, and the thing that I give my hardest on is being a thorn on everyone that I love, here is the thing, I am a depressing fellow, I don't think they thought of me as depressed before the pandemic, but I am pretty sure now that they see me as this nuisance that can't stop oversharing and just keeps bringing the whole mood down for everybody, like, my soul is shaking so hard, and I think ot is just going to break at this point, like, it is so hard to overlook those small mistakes, like, I know I shouldn't interrupt the flow of stream of consciousness, but can I help it, I am just so not used to doing this anymore

I wonder at which point did I began writing stuff here, like, actual stories, because I think I would just make me write an arbitrary number of words and give it as done for the day, like, I remember reading this short story, where the prompt was longing for a place you can't go back to, and was about a old man in a retirement home, but also wasn't, it was a facility that made old people small, weak, and dreaming for most of the time, they where only taken out of their stupor for visitations, ad even then, they already lost too much of themselves, the size enough to stack on top of another, overcrowded in silent capsules, dreaming of a yellow house, being on the porch with someone who was no longer there, in a place that was no longer there, the son sold the old man house to pay for his stay, to pay for the dehumanization of his own dad. but... I understand someone who would leave their parents at a house, I think

... I would do the same?

how does Iara feels? working for someone younger then her, how did rita felt, she was younger, so maybe the feeling of inadequacy wasn't strong, maybe they would look at the place that we live and take pleasure at the disarray that we set ourselves to live in,

I am coming to a realization that I am not too sure if it is right or wrong, but... if I have problems with something, I should just

... give it to someone better at doing the thing for me... is this a healthy way of thinking, I want to draw, I want to write, so I do those things, but I don't want to study, to do the works, I don't want fill my brain with ways to code when I abhorred the career in technology, I just, I am not suited to do a thing, I just need to ask for... help, I just need to do that? I struggling, ask for help... feels so simple, like something a child would learn early in their life from their parents, my mom keeps saying she couldn't give what she didn't receive, my mom was a needy child that never grown up and never quite learned to do things on her own, quite like me, she struggled very hard, but she never asked for help, she doesn't know how to do that, she has no idea, so she never taught me how to ask for help....

I am grateful for Lucas, I used to never look in his direction, now he is my light in this dark tunnel, guiding me to the exit, I have red grades on chemistry and physics? I can just... ask for help, Helena is literally on college for pharmacy, I should focus on my goals, and ask for help when it comes to things that I don't want to deal with... it feels, warped somehow, but I feel myself slipping through ropes, entangling my body, I am going to end up hanging by my neck, a bloody, gory show, people would look at my face and see things horrible so, because it would probably have rotted off after I killed myself for having to do this year one more time, like, bitch, I will end up killing myself, because I can't do it, I can't do it a second time, I am just going to cry and scream and chuck myself out of a cliff, because I feel so unprepared for everything, I feel like I am loosing footing in my head as the sleepiness consumes me over and over again, I don't wanna sleep, I wanna be productive, but J don't wanna be productive in schools direction, I want to write, I want to read, I want to draw, I want to do the things that I wanna do, and be productive on the things that bring me the most pleasure, is this a lesson as well? I think that yes, my passions are the things that make me wanna stay in this world, last year, I lacked the most important piece, that was being able to ask for help when you feel like you are going to fail, ask for help when you need help, and someone will be able to help you. it is so important.

crime wave is one of my most productive song, I listened to it a lot while writing, I think that it really massages my brain, they sag to not use music with lyrics on them, because it will distract you, and that is true, but if it is a song that I have heard a unhealthy amount of times, I kind of, just go fast, like Sonic one would say, do you remember, Sonic's asshole that Karina did on Drawfee, I have no idea what to do what to write the reason words keep creeping on the screen from my fingers is because I am looking to get myself exhausted enough to sleep, like, bitch I have an appointment at like 14:30, like motherfucking hell, I wanna sleep so bad, but also can't.

i remember thinking how I would pass my throat ache or whatever to that guy when I kissed him, now the bacteria have been proliferating in my mouth, the one from his, and now I get to taste what his mouth tastes in the morning, and it's rank as hell, bitch, I am going to scream, and it will hurt, I wanna my old taste back, but at the same time, I wanna kiss that bitch more than ever, I don't understand my feelings, I think that once I get over writing my feelings, I will be able to write something worthwhile

the story of a guy who lived in a trailer on the woods, and his daily life.

I need a little of foreplay before writing

 Well, this brain of mine is rather dull in certain aspects, as much as I wish to write, it feels as it only happens as means of last resort, my brain turns to not sleep mode as a way to avoid giving in to the blissful cosplay of being dead.

I wish I was dead, but not like a corpse sort of way, I wish I was a ghost.

Able to roam freely in the world, to not get attached to nowhere, I would be a wandering ghost. It might sound doubtful, but I will maintain my well wishes from now on, I have no other place to look but forward, I wonder what I will be doing with my life, that is quite a fair question, I don't feel strongly as I had about Nicolas success, I am happy for him now, I don't know if I am happy happy, but I can feel none of those ugly feelings of June as of right now, I wonder if giving in to despair was my first mistake, I wonder, nay, I question, it surely was, without a shadow of a doubt, but I should really focus on the future, right?

I want to be a writer, and for that, I need to write, to be writing, I need to do the things that need to be done, I don't want to wish

I want to do.

So, I wonder how should I proceed? What ideas? None? Well, short stories it is.

I must have lost my touch

I am in a constant state of horniness and sleep deprived, the one and truly reason that I am that way is because of my debilitating cocaine addiction, man, I am horny, and ready to write something.I don't have a cocaine addiction, that was the lack of sleep talking.

His muscles glistened from the sweat and grease from the motor, his manly musk seemed to take over my mind, his entrancing smell and his tight muscles, he was a god amongst men, his brown tanned skin enticed me, white men are so boring, and I hate how they have that same smell, like, even after showering, their groins smell so fucking weird and nauseating, I have an smell fetish, but remembering some of the guys I had hook ups makes me want to throw up. Just kidding, maybe I just have a latino fetish, but I am from Brazil, so like, people of my country fetish? I am not quite sure and I am besides worried.

 I wish my speed was quite faster, I wish your mother was stronger, I wish they teach you love is war, I wish you came with me, I wish I had more tnt, oh oh, west burgh, tell me what that's sound, oh oh west burg, he will send you straight  to hell. that was from the heathers musical, Dead Girl Walking (Reprise).

But let me tell you an story, my evil deed are a worry, they amount since the dawn of my carrier, even the crazy murders seems to haunt future prospects, I wonder how did it become like this, i think I will be writing Until I am not writing anymore, maybe I should write until the battery is fully charged, who knows, I surely do not, I am so suppressed that I can barely express my sexuality from all this internalized homophobia,, like damn dog, who would thunk that the person to stand between you and good representation for the fantasy gay nerds out there that really need it, like, for fuck it sake, I need to be better, for all the scared lonely and lost Pedros out there, I wish I had a bigger dick, or a more juicy ass, well I guess an ass any more juicier for me would be too dangerous, I already have a bubble but, if I had more, wars would break out for my sake, I would be the modern age Helen of Troy, that would be nice.

But well, in the dreams that I summoned with my powers to invocate erotic dreams? That every time I tried to get in the action, something always seemed to get in the way, when It came to the orgy in the middle of the faculty facility, I stoppled to observe for just a moment and  they simply disbanded, a professor appears for a course of sucking cock 101, when it comes my turn, my hair is disgusting and shitty, while I try to make it look better for sucking that cock, when I get to do it, it simply goes awry and wrong and I don't get the opportunity to joy on in the fun, like, I  am already have an obese body  that seems to numb any hardons I might appear to get, but when I woke up from that dream, I had a raging hardon, you know what I did? A filmed myself masturbating then proceed to masturbate to it, like, I might not like my  body, but it seems I am able to get hard from it, so maybe someone else could also be able to, but dang it, was that too much narcissism of my part? I think it might have been, but who knows, As soon as this cellphone gets to the max in battery I think I will sleep, but not today, I will jerk oof for now, well, I've come to the realization that I stopped pushing myself to my limits, I made a promise to myself, that I would write until the battery was filled, but soon after I jork off, I just thought about going to sleep soon after, you see, that is a problem.

 I set an small goal, I didn't even demanded professional prose or even a good narrative, I just need to keep writing, do you really want to be surpassed by your 53 years old mom? Like, she is bettering herself in this quarantine, besides the 9 pages in one night of gibberish, do you  really think you can continue in this fantasy that you can substitute academic efforts by bettering yourself at writing if you don't really write? Like, I don't want to live a fantasy, I want my dreams to come true, and that is just not going to work if you don't put the effort, it might be hard, you might even be tired, but you shouldn't stop writing, you will thrive, I believe and cherish in you, my your determination be greater than those before

Might I say, I really regret telling Rafael that Undertale is overrated, like that was so unnecessary, so extra and annoying, the guy was having fun and being happy, and even then I fucking went and broke it down with my bare hand#s, but sometimes, I wonder, If I put in the effort, would I been a better friend to Rafael if I knew better, I guess I would, but it is impossible to really know things for the future, I  can only strive to be better to him if possible in the future, also in the heart of the cards, I would have this valuable lessons for my good friends in the future.

 I wish I could do better, and so I will, I will fucking do better, not even if I have to take it from the corpses of my enemies while their entrails lay sprawled in the snowy grounds, now the murky dirt snow stained a deep crimson by the blood pf the fallen, hope is naught but a memory, victory is an impossible, unrealistic and inaccessible than ever, like dude, if I told that a rain of hell fire would be hundred of times better than whatever the fuckery that happened in this sacred grounds ever was, the sense is an slipping phase, as the insanity defaults in the minds of those that survived the slaughter, that saw the grim reaper shadows in the dropping bombs, his grim blossomed just as the clouds of smoke shaped as a mushroom, if it burned to the ground, if the power was even scarier, it might have been to the better, as the burnt out corpses sprawled long dead on the street, as if melted just like chocolate in a sizzling pan, the mash of horrendous corpses littering the city was a hellish sight for sure, but can anyone blame the big country? They were just doing the justice that pearl harbor managed to get, but the pioneer of hell site seemed to be the destructive accessories of any fledgling demon who wishes to thrive should have.

 Since I was a deviling, Father taught me the importance of tradition, rituals hold immense power, the wishes and desires we hold for ourselves and our culture as such family and communion are the true strength one would ever need for the sake of war, but holy dang it dang, it has passed fucking minutes but the charge is just passing out of 35%, who would've thunk that pushing through ones limits would be such an arduous and thankless maneuver, I sure as hell didn't think as much, but if I don't wish to get even more sleepier than I already am, I think I really need to get excited, like when I am a fucking mess of a wreck after passing a long time awake, I am dead tired, but a good story seems to wash the exhaustion way just in the right way, like, I have some words to describe the feeling, but like, the carnal desire of finishing such an captivating work.

 I truly believe that anyone could do better as long as a preferred masterpiece of the working drone is presented to him, but I cannot write while I read, So the only way to keep myself awake is to write something that would excite me, something that would blown my non existent socks right out of my non existent fourth and third foot, but what do I know, I am just A face in the crowd, waiting patiently for my turn to come, but the desperate wails of the souls of the damned are deafening, so I would give that to you, as the king of the unusual and horrid monster that I aspire to stop being, I must really work out some solitaire plan for the branding of the mark, I am dead tired, but one thing that would keep me out pf the floor would be discussing, discussing the best way to get I what I want. 

What I need and what I aspire to win, who knows, who cares, my deepest and truest wishes is for the happiness of all LGBT plus people, how to say it, straight pride parade is such a trash concept, I know nor care about their pride, If they didn't suffer for who they are, then they not deserve it, fuck the straight cis default considered people, I am so tired, I wish the speed of the charger would be just as faster as the speed that I give things up, as far as supernatural powers go, I think the ability to snare people is quite great, not gonna lie, be it through an hypnotic stare or even other means, the ability to make the common folk do your binding, to be able to trap any soul in an illusion of your own making, Hipnos sure as hell is quite badass, like him better than his brother, Thanatos, but who would've thunk, I as sure hell did not, but dang it for everything and all more, but be it know that I have no desire for aproachbility.

I wish for nothing more than the truest fears of the dead to become disillusioned thoughtless dreams, frivolous fantasies that are able to be dismissed as fucking gibberish from the common folk with average wealth and an even more average status quo that helps nobody  else more than those who were already in power, It seems that the time is going to drag itself as I look at how long more this will take, but dang it, okay, ideas from my dear and beloved project from last minute that I would love to end before the end of the month, but I seem to not be in the cards.