No.302257
Isolation has carved me in its image and likeness. The presence of another person- of any person whatsoever - instantly slows down my thinking, and while for a normal man contact with others is a stimulus to spoken expression and wit, for me it is a counterstimulus, if this compound word be linguistically permissible. When all by myself, I can think of all kinds of clever remarks, quick comebacks to what no one said, and flashes of witty sociability with nobody. But all of this vanishes when I face someone in the flesh: I lose my intelligence, I can no longer speak, and after half an hour I just feel tired. Yes, talking to people makes me feel like sleeping. Only my ghostly and imaginary friends, only the conversations I have in my dreams, are genuinely real and substantial, and in them intelligence gleams like an image in a mirror.
The mere thought of having to enter into contact with someone else makes me nervous. A simple invitation to have dinner with a friend produces an anguish in me that's hard to define. The idea of any social obligation whatsoever attending a funeral, dealing with someone about an office matter, going to the station to wait for someone I know or don't know - the very idea disturbs my thoughts for an entire day, and sometimes I even start worrying the night before, so that I sleep badly. When it takes place, the dreaded encounter is utterly insignific ant, justifying none of my anxiety, but the next time is no different: I never learn to learn.
'My habits are of solitude, not of men.' I don't know if it was Rousseau or Senancour who said this. But it was some mind of my species, it being perhaps too much to say of my race.”
Text 49, The Book of Disquiet by Fernando Pessoa
No.302261
>>302257Same. When I look at humans, I see such spiteful, filthy, degenerate creatures who I cannot even acknowledge as my equal. It's as if they are hardwired with a primordial hatred against all things pure, innocent, beautiful, and are determined to betray them and exploit them as violently as possible. I am an extrovert, but I find the company of worms and ants more energizing than the blabbering fool called a 'person'.
No.302264
>>302262After reading this
>>302257 i cant stop listening to
No.302286
>>302261>It's as if they are hardwired with a primordial hatred against all things pure, innocent, beautiful, and are determined to betray them and exploit them as violently as possible. There's some truth to this, it's because we're living in the age of irony where sincerity has vanished. I would like to go back to a stage where I was scared to even look at the front screen of a porn website, where I immediately, consciously knew and felt that whatever was shown there is just 'wrong' and I would click it away not daring to take a closer peak. That's the form of being naive I would deem as dignity these days. Not in the sense that oh it's bad because succubi are objectified, not in the sense that porn is bad for your health or your brain, but simply a common sense knowledge that whatever is illustrated in porn is bad as it's ot natural. But this kind of naiviety is impossible to even think of these days, what has been unleashed can't be undone. I myself can't go back to it, it's been ver 18 years.