I am a sick NEET... I am a horrible one.
No I do not know what makes me so ill, nor do I care to reason about it here.
I know perfectly well there's nothing achieved with these words, and there's no one to listen to them.
Well, let them be written anyway!
You see, I've come to a terrible crossroads...
a crossroads that has thirty splits and forty minutes to twenty dimensions, each with a carousel at least.
A carousel of all things!
But you see.... the first step is waiting.
Which way from here?
No, no, I know there's nothing you could reasonably reply with here.
That's fine.
No one can answer.
No one has for awhile. No one at all!
"If you do what you did, you get what you got."
Have you gotten what you came here for?
Have you?
To leer over the edge; a sailboat against the suds of opportunity!
Surely you know it?
Surely your ancestors kn[o|e]w it?
Surely we once knew it...
What do you know?
In either case... it seems I can no longer manage a mask here, there.
Anywhere else for that matter.
I'm tired of hiding.
What's the use?
You may fancy yourself a renegade, a Parisian of one; the offcast isle farmer wrangling some shrimp in.
Yet you're here, you're here. Why?
With this I renounce all my threads.
There is nothing more to say.
Time to shut the doors.
As I once did.
As I once did...
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=8aPzZEA1jFo
>>9746
shut up
>>9732
there is no way to be truly alone. those who are often become truly dead, mentally and spiritually. you must keep bonds, otherwise you shall float into the void between nonexistence and existence. i hope you shall come to grace these doors once more, but perhaps you never shall. that is fine. goodbye, friend. i did not know you, but i think i understand,
Hello again my neets.
it is the same schizophrenic here to report.
A month and some change came along and now I'm writing schizophrenic ramblings on some random neocities site to pass the time.
I'm not sure what is next again, but I am casting this bottle of a reply out to the only board that felt like home for a bit.
I like the shitters and the lack of moderation that bares open the real complexion of most internet users.
I like how I'm not hiding from anything here, most of all myself.
And I like when people write me down and out with contrived short replies too.
To be an opportunity for them to enjoy the thin sliver of time when shitposting was fun.
A gentle reminder of how confusing it is to want to interact when all the outputs leave you gutted.
I know it's likely everyone left. It's hard to say what the userbase here is anymore, or that I ever "belonged" to it in any capacity. Let's not delude ourselves, we don't belong anywhere here.
It's all dead out there. Here.
And all the media is dead too. It doesn't work like it used to.
I am at the Pascal summit: to sit alone quiet in a room.
But here I am, writing along this cliff side.
Feet dangling.
It was hard to understand those older NEETs, those who talked about it changing darker as the months drove by.
So I'm here.
Wish I could've paid more attention to what they had to say, but I know there is no advice that'll prepare.
There aren't even people here either.
This isn't a whimper though.
Let the soul roar!
Love,
Marlowe
Nah bro, you're probably just a healthy person in a sick world. A common problem, to be sure.
>>11881
Belgianfag here, I remember Maggie De Blob all too well. it caused a massive shitstorm when she became health minister!
>but muh genetics!
Yeah well just because you can't control your obesity doesn't mean you can blame me for having no control over my love for hamburgers fries and mayonnaise, potverdekke!
Hell even someone as impish as De Wever would have been better suited than Morbidly obese Maggie, at least he can brag that people can't call him a lardass anymore (but they can still call him a cunt, or an asshole!)
Hello again my neets.
It's been a bit, or maybe the days feel like weeks into eons of something spectacular if you only knew the phrase.
Of Marlowe I've little influence but everyday is a rebirth maybe.
I spent the last weeks writing on my neocities site.
Waffling whether or not to post it here, as a way to "shut it down".
I'm not sure.
Instead of saying what is dead, let's talk about the living.
You're living, the one reading this.
And instead of dramatizing the event, let's reframe it as a passage to worlds waiting.
So it begins...
Marlowe